by Vi Carter
“Grace,” Craig said through the door while knocking. My hand moved to the handle as Derek handed me my bag. “Goodnight,” I said still flustered.
“Night Grace.” Derek’s words sent shivers through me as I turned the handle and closed the door behind me. When I looked at Craig, he raised his pierced eyebrow and I blushed. I didn’t say anything, but crossed the hall and opened the door.
“I hope you didn’t leave on my behalf,” Craig said. I was mad at him for disturbing me, but also grateful.
“Hardly, Craig.” My body still pulsed and burned.
“You’re very flushed looking. I hope I didn’t disturb anything,” he said with a sneer in his words.
I closed my apartment door and smiled at Craig. “No, I was already done.” That wiped the smile off his face. With some satisfaction, I marched to my bedroom and gave him another teasing smile. He stood rigidly, his jaw locked, and I closed my bedroom door. I stripped off my clothes; my skin was on fire from everywhere that Derek had touched. Tying my hair up, I took some calming breaths, but the stupid smile didn't leave my face, and I flushed just thinking about Derek. I fell back onto my bed, awake and giddy with glee. I bit my bottom lip still smiling. “Get a grip,” I told myself. I was like a school girl. It took me ages to sleep, tossing and turning; my dreams were plagued with intense blue eyes and a tall blond Viking.
DEREK
Once I closed the door behind Grace, I did something I hadn’t done since I was a child. I cried.
I moved into my bedroom, removing my shirt and faced the mirror, the small swallow on my shoulder stared back at me, my burden, my debt, my pain. Seeing Grace so damaged was killing me, the more I got to know her, the worse this was. When she had mentioned James at the table, I just threw caution to the wind and wanted to enjoy every second with her. In a perfect world, she was a girl I knew I could love. But this wasn’t a perfect world. My fist hit the mirror, smashing my image into a million pieces along with the swallow.
GRACE
The three-hour drive did my back no favors. I passed the large piers that seemed to loom towards me. The building I eventually pulled up to was drab and grey, depressing looking. It was terrible. I already wanted this to be over. I grabbed my bag from the passenger seat and made my way into the building.
When I entered, no one was at reception, which was odd. I leaned across and grabbed the register so I could sign in before going into the main room. “Grace.” Michelle moved towards me quickly and gracefully. For someone who was over twenty stone, the girl could move.
“Hi Michelle.” I smiled and pulled an apple from my bag, throwing it in the air, she caught it, her eyes lighting up. “How are you today?” I asked as she immediately started chewing on it.
“Sandy’s doing my head in. The voices are telling me to punch her in the mouth.”
I suppressed my laughter and narrowed my eyes. “Are you sure it’s the voices?” I asked. Michelle was here because the voices made her do stuff, like hurt herself or other people. She also had serious depression, but today seemed to be a good day as she grinned at me.
“Okay, it wasn’t the voices. I want to punch her in the mouth.” Honestly, I didn’t blame Michelle; Sandy was one of those people that would grate on anyone’s nerves. She was a moaner about everything and anything. She never had a good word to say. She also spoke non-stop and in a droning monotone. I always found it hard to stay in the moment with her. I would zone out, and it wouldn’t be until she got mad, saying no one listened to her, that I would zone back in. But I wouldn’t tell Michelle that.
“Why? Sandy is really nice.”
Michelle snorted and took another bite of her apple. “Yeah, when she’s asleep, that’s about it.” A small laugh escaped my lips and Michelle’s eyes lit up.
“I knew you wanted to hurt her too." She sounded delighted.
“Michelle, violence is wrong, and I would never want to hurt Sandy, or anyone for that matter." I made my voice serious, and Michelle huffed for a brief moment.
“What about someone who took your favorite t-shirt and changed the letter h to an f so it read FAT HEAD instead of HAT HEAD." That sounded like a pretty stupid saying to have on a t-shirt. “Did someone do that to you?” I questioned.
Michelle gave me a look of disgust. “Are you crazy, Grace?”
Did she really just ask me that question? “As if I would own a t-shirt that said Hat Head." She gave me a look as if she really questioned my sanity.
“Did you get me anything?” The small voice came from another resident, who I loved, but Michelle didn’t. She said goodbye to me, gave Mariel a dirty look, and left. I pulled out the crossword puzzle and handed it to Mariel.
“Of course I did. Did you finish the last one?” I asked as I began to walk slowly towards her. Mariel moved at the speed of a turtle. She’s sixty with a heart-breaking story. With her own depression, she smothered her new-born baby. She was admitted here in her early thirties. She was released a few times, but she always comes back. The world terrifies her.
“I did, Grace, but I got help from Peter.” She speaks so quietly that I have to lean in to hear her.
“That’s nice,” I said, distracted at the sight of Rose making her way towards me, but my mother wasn’t with her. I grew alarmed.
“Mariel, I am going to borrow Grace for a moment, is that okay?” Rose asked, and Mariel agreed. I squeezed her hand before she left, clutching the crossword puzzle I gave her, and then I turned to Rose.
“She had another episode just now. She isn’t good.” Rose’s head tilted to the side slightly, something I noticed she did when delivering bad news.
I swallowed. A part of me was relieved, and I felt like a terrible daughter for that. But now I don’t have to talk to her. Some days, it can be too hard. “Is she sedated?” I asked, and Rose confirmed it with sadness in her eyes.
“Do you want to see her?” I don’t. I’d love to walk away and never come back to this place.
“Of course.” I found myself saying. Rose squeezed my shoulder, just like I had squeezed Mariel’s, with pity and pretend reassurance that everything will be okay when it won’t. I followed her in silence.
My mother was sprawled on a bed, her wrists and legs secured. The room was void of everything, only containing the bed she laid on. “For her safety,” Rose said to my startled glance.
“She’s getting worse?” I asked, looking at her.
“Yes, she is.” Rose replied. “I’ll give you some space.” She exited the room, leaving me alone with a shadow of my mother. The woman who lay before me was only a faded version of the vibrant woman I remembered. We actually never saw eye-to-eye. I spent my whole childhood and adult lessons fighting with my mother, but she fought back. Now, it was hard to see her strapped to a bed, pale, her face sunken, her once-full and long hair now thin and short. She had aged twenty years. She was a stranger to me.
I stood awkwardly, looking at her and then looking away. I should say something. I cleared my throat. “Hi. I came to see you.” No reaction. I wasn’t exactly expecting one. One wall was covered by a mirror that was two-way. I looked away from it, wondering if I was being watched. I felt stupid. “I’m not sure if you can hear me, but I’m here.” I took her hand in mine and squeezed her fingers gently, but there was no reaction. Nothing. I stayed standing there for another five minutes. It could have been five hours. I finally left.
A commotion in the main room had most of the security there. It took five of them to pull Michelle off of Sandy. Rose ran past me carrying a syringe, while another lady moved to Sandy who was screaming at the top of her lungs. Blood gushed from her nose. Michelle obviously couldn’t control herself.
I watched the chaos numbly until Michelle and Sandy were both removed, and the other patients were sitting back at their tables. Rose joined me. “I’m sorry about that, Grace. Michelle is getting harder to control.” We started to walk back to the reception area.
“I don’t blame her for punching Sandy,
” I said. Rose gave me a conspiratorial smile.
“Me either.”
“So ...” No point in prolonging this. “What’s next?” I asked.
Rose hugged a clipboard to her chest. “She’s getting worse, so it has been agreed that we need to give her heavier medication to keep her calm. But your brother said no, he doesn’t want that.” My posture changed when she mentioned my brother.
“You were talking to Emmett?” I swallowed down my anger and tears.
“Grace, I know this is hard...”
I cut her off. “Just tell me what needs to be done." I felt like I was about to lose the grip on my emotions, and my face must have portrayed that as Rose stopped being a counsellor and became a nurse.
She looked at me seriously. “We need both you and Emmett here to discuss your mother’s future. We are hoping for next week?” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t just yet. Rose placed her hand on my shoulder and continued. “Grace, she is fading, she won’t eat or sleep. If she keeps this up, your mother is going to die."
I swallowed the emotion, not really accepting her words. “Okay. I’ll be here." I nodded numbly.
She nodded before hugging me briefly. “I’m here as a friend if you need me," she said and I smiled my thanks before leaving.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GRACE
I COUNT MY STEPS, that’s another one of my coping mechanisms. My emotions poked their heads out of the thick black tar of despair that bubbled up inside me. “Pine-apple,” I said out loud. I repeated this as a distraction as I unlocked my car. A few visitors gave me sideway glances and worried looks. Two people whispered together. I could only imagine what they were thinking. They looked at me as if I had escaped from the institute. I wasn’t exactly helping myself, but I was too close to breaking. I climbed into the car and slipped the keys in the ignition, but I didn’t turn it on. I couldn’t drive. I couldn’t even so much as see through the tears that were filling my eyes. “Pine-apple,” I said again, helplessly, but the force of my emotions had become too much. Nothing was helping.
“Breathe, Grace,” I told myself as I gripped the steering wheel, turning my knuckles white.
My stomach twisted, a warning that I was going to do something out of my control. I had a second to rein it back in, but that ‘in control’ part of me had given up.
When I start to cry, it has a chain reaction. It’s like the rest of my body received permission not to care anymore. My tears turned to screams of anger and hurt as I beat the steering wheel with my fists. I shook my head and stamped my feet, my knees connecting with the steering wheel. I felt no pain, only hysteria.
A while later, I rested against the steering wheel, seeing nothing but my hair through my tears. The door opened, but I didn’t respond. I wanted to say, “I’m fine, just give me five minutes,” but I’m not fine. My breathing was labored and came out in gasps.
“Grace? Sweetie?” Rose. She pushed my hair back from my face, in a kind, nurturing way. There was no judgement, only compassion, and that was what I needed, a mother.
When my eyes met hers, I started to cry. “I’m not doing so good,” I admitted and let out a humorless laugh.
Rose smiled gently back at me, but it was also humourless. Sincerity and worry creased her face. Behind the nurse’s mask, I could now see the person. “Let’s get you inside honey,” she said, and then I noticed the man behind her. I didn’t argue as Rose led me towards the building.
I glanced over my shoulder. The man retrieved my bag and locked my car. I didn’t complain. I didn't have the energy to. Rose took me to a small room, which had two chairs and a small table. A heater blasted out heat in the corner, and a whiteboard that had been used recently showed the stages of grief. How relevant. Rose sat me down as another woman entered. “Can you get us two coffees?” Rose said, and the woman left. I pulled my sleeves down over my red and swollen hands. My knees throbbed; no doubt bruises would blossom soon.
“Grace, I think you should stay with us.” Rose’s words were careful.
“Maybe I can share a room with my mother,” I responded desolately, while tugging on my sleeves. The room suddenly felt smaller, and the heat caused sweat to gather under my arms. The other woman re-entered, placed a tray on the table and left us alone.
“I think a day or two would be good, at least until you clear your head.” It really sounded tempting, but I couldn’t put one foot on the crazy train. I don’t think I would ever get off it.
Rose made my coffee, and I accepted the warm cup, but as I clung to it, my hands began to shake noticeably and I put it down, not wanting to draw further attention.
“What are you feeling?” Rose asked in that soothing tone, and I gave her my best ‘don’t-pull-this-shit-on-me’ look. But she gave me her ‘we-are-going-there’ look, and I knew I wasn’t going to get out of this one without revealing something to her.
“Tired,” I answered honestly. Tired of body and mind. I wanted to go home get into bed and let this day disappear. The reality that I was sitting in a counselling room with Rose, as the one under scrutiny, was starting to make me itchy.
A moment of silence stretched, “Do you want me to ring anyone? Emmett?” She questioned in a soothing tone that grated on my nerves.
My temper rose at her silly questions, and I repeated his name. I had no energy to battle. “Emmett?”
“He is in the area.” My stomach hollowed out at Rose’s confession. I rubbed my eyes and took a large gulp of the coffee, grateful for the distraction.
I looked back up at Rose. “I don’t want to see him unless I have to.”
Rose nodded and sipped her own coffee before speaking. “And how does that make you feel?” I narrowed my eyes at Rose. Was she really doing this?
“Fantastic, elated, on top of the world. In fact, I don’t even know what I was crying about to begin with." I said, but I knew that Rose wasn’t impressed with my sarcastic tone.
“All that anger isn’t good, Grace,” I knew that she was right, and I let out a breath, releasing some of my anger.
“I know, Rose, thanks for everything.” I pointed at the room and the coffee. “But I’m good to go now.” I stood on shaky legs. I needed my keys. Rose still sat, not making a move to get me my bag. I didn’t like the look on her face. I knew this wasn’t over.
“I had the other nurse call Emmett, so he will be here soon.” She said, watching me carefully.
Panic tore through me. “No, no, no...I...” I wanted to scream at Rose. How could she be so stupid? A knock at the door caused me to jump at the unexpected interruption.
“Grace, it’s okay,” Rose tried to reassure me as she answered the door. She spoke for a moment as my head began to spin. I tried to hear what she was saying, but the sound of my blood pumping blocked out their voices. I can’t do this. How long has it been? Two years. I don’t even know this guy.
My skin felt itchy now with sweat but, as Rose turned to me, it dried within a second, making me shake with the cold.
“Your brother’s here.”
I stood there, trembling with fear and anger, staring at her in horror. If there was another door, I would have run through it. I couldn’t do this. “Send him away,” I begged as I sat back down. I couldn’t do this. Rose spoke to whoever was still at the door and closed it before turning back to me.
“Grace, Emmett is concerned.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that? I couldn't picture him concerned. He was always so controlled, so serious. Stuck up, even. We had nothing in common. He always made me feel like I was beneath him, and that he was embarrassed by me. These weren’t emotions that I needed to deal with right now. I looked at Rose; she had a determined gleam in her eye. “He is going to drop you home, and tomorrow, I’ll drive your car back if you need me to. You are in no fit state to drive yourself. So, you either stay here, or let Emmett take you home.” The lesser of two evils. I considered staying here, but knew it would raise too many questions with Craig since he was staying at my place.
“Fine, but I need my bag,” I said, pissed at Rose.
She didn’t gloat but stood. “Emmett has your belongings, and he is waiting for you in the reception area.” I rubbed my face with both hands. I wasn’t ready for this, but then again, I never would be. I felt like a child being collected from the principal’s office, and when I looked up and saw Emmett standing in the middle of the reception area, his expression drove that feeling home for me. He was so out of place here. His business suit was pressed and perfect. He was groomed immaculately. His wealth visible, not just in his clothes, but his manicured form.
He looked at me with ice blue eyes, that quickly roamed across me from head to toe. It was then I really thought about how I must appear. When his eyes returned to mine, they didn’t portray any emotion. He was still the same dick I remembered. “Grace.”
I wanted to say “Who are you? Oh, my brother? I don’t recall you. Should I?” But instead, I mumbled his name, and he held out my battered handbag like it might give him a disease. I glared at Rose before accepting my bag from Emmett. He didn’t wait for a comment; he simply turned and left. I followed, not saying anything to Rose.
Emmett’s black Bentley looked like a spacecraft in the parking lot. Could he not tone it down? It was his driver who opened the door for me. Frank, I was pretty sure his name was, but I didn't care for pleasantries. I was surprised when Emmett got into the back with me. We sat facing each other. He sat straight, folding his hands together, while I hunkered down and tried to disappear. Emmett started to speak when the car was moving. “How are you feeling, Grace?” his question sounded awkward, and it pissed me off.
