Call Me Ana: A Novel

by Bonnet,Scarlet

  Chapter 18

  A lot of time had passed. I remembered flashes of other times I’d barely come to. Unfamiliar faces blinked in and out of my vision, most of them had tense or disgusted looks on their faces. Some tried to be soothing, but I just wanted them to stop whatever they were doing and leave me alone. When I saw faces or heard voices, it usually meant something was about to hurt. At one point Grant’s voice whispered in my ear. I couldn’t remember why that wouldn’t make sense, but I didn’t care. I let it wash over me. It was the only thing that helped.

  I tried to open my eyes, but the room was far too bright for that. My head hurt, my face hurt, my throat hurt, my arms hurt. But the worst was my stomach. It felt horribly tight and sore, and I reached to claw at it, my arm feeling heavy.

  “Rachel?” It was unmistakably Grant’s voice.

  Is he calling me Rachel? I couldn’t remember why he was calling me Rachel and not my name. I tried to open my eyes again, but even in trying to shield them, I still couldn’t get them open; it was so bright.

  “Grant?” My voice sounded barely audible to me. I wondered if he could even hear me.

  The room got darker and then I felt one of Grant’s hands around mine and the other resting lightly on my cheek. Feeling skin against my face made every muscle in my throat tighten and I jerked away, causing an explosion of pain in stomach.

  “Rachel! I’m sorry! It’s ok,” he said, panicking. His hands were gone from me in an instant.

  “I’m ok,” I said, wanting him to calm down. I’d never heard him panic like that. I didn’t like it.

  I was breathing hard and still felt terror in my chest at being touched on my face. I waited until I was calmer and hoped he couldn’t see that I was trembling. That moment had brought with it clarity and I remembered. My fake name. Rayburn. Its inhabitants. Roy. I tried to open my eyes, and this time I managed to squint. Grant was staring at me, his eyes full of fear and sadness. He had a good amount of stubble on his face and bags under his eyes. He looked like hell.

  I opened my eyes wider as they adjusted and saw the white walls and the small, rolling table next to me. There was a tube in my left arm and something strapped to my finger. Normally I hated needles or tubes or anything to do with that, but I just felt nothing. I was in the hospital. Grant watched me, his whole body rigid.

  He swallowed and looked at me, completely unsure as to what he should do.

  “Hey,” he whispered, his eyes darting over mine. He eased closer but didn’t touch me. He still looked coiled up so tight I thought he was going to explode.

  More fog lifting from my head, I remembered the last time I saw him, when I told him we couldn’t see each other anymore. I struggled to form the words. “What…” my voice squawked from lack of use and I had to clear my throat. Everything I did sounded pathetically weak. It annoyed me. ”Why…you’re here…” I started. I was confused that he was here, but as more images clarified in my mind, the relief began to sweep over me.

  He was ok. Roy was… gone.

  He seemed to sense what I was feeling. “I came back to see you. I-” he paused, his emotions welling up.

  I wished I could do something to make him feel better.

  “I missed you and…”

  He stared back at me, his eyes sweeping over my face.

  “I should’ve never left…” he whispered.

  He held out his hand to smooth my hair and I winced as the panicked feeling came over me, my eyes slamming shut. Flashes of Roy’s glazed eyes filled my mind. The touch never came and I opened my eyes again after the feeling died down, seeing Grant stare at me with a miserable expression on his face.

  I wanted to tell him that there wasn’t anything he could’ve done, that I was glad he’d left because Roy would’ve killed him if he’d stayed, but that was too much for me to get out. I was weak and drained. I noticed his hand sitting close to mine and I inched my hand over to his just enough to make our fingers touch. He looked down and then back at me.

  I tried to smile.

  He swiped a hand over his face, tears welling up in his sad, gray eyes when he smiled back.

  * * * *

  At first, Grant couldn’t stay all the time. But they eventually moved me to a different place in the hospital. He never left me after that. He slept next to me on the floor. He didn’t try to touch me anymore, except to hold my hand, but I’d see him looking at my face and hair, his eyes pools of sadness. It made me sad too. I didn’t know how to explain it to him, that feeling that made me have to escape touch, even his. It was worse, so much worse than it had been with Chad. It made it hard when they sent someone in to do physical therapy with me so that I could get stronger and get out of bed. In the end, I was so uncooperative that they had Grant help, but he could still only touch my hands. It hadn’t hit me yet, the feeling of loss at not having physical contact that I knew would come when my emotions returned. But I did feel sad that Grant was sad.

  Grant kept things light. He read to me a lot. He read the Black Stallion, and then the entire series. We watched movies on his laptop. I noticed they were all happy, nonthreatening movies. It seemed to take forever for them to let me go, but I’d been out even longer than I remembered. Turns out they’d done surgery. I had two enormous incisions: one that was like a giant bite mark from under my breast, around my ribs and to my back, the other ran from the bottom of my breasts to the middle of my tummy. I knew the feelings about that would come too, but for now, it was just there, causing me pain and discomfort.

  The day I was getting ready to discharge, Grant had an uneasy look in his eyes, like he wanted to talk about something.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked him.

  He jumped a little. I didn’t talk a whole lot. There were lots of things I wanted to say to him, but I couldn’t get them out and I knew they’d fall flat if I told him now anyway. I couldn’t feel anything except for twinges of basic emotions.

  “I was wondering if it would be ok for me to stay at your place for a while. So I could… help you out a little bit.”

  “Sure.”

  His posture straightened and the muscles in his back eased up. He smiled at me, but his eyes were still sad.

  Eventually a nurse came with a wheelchair. I took one look at it and told her I wasn’t getting in it. She told me it was policy that everyone leave in a wheel chair, and after a few more grumbles, I stiffly moved myself into the chair. Grant edged the nurse out of the way and took over pushing me. I liked that.

  * * * *

  It was awkward when we got to his truck, because I did need help getting in. My stomach was tight and my legs were weak. I never would have told her, but I was a little glad that nurse had insisted on the wheelchair. Grant stood next to me and offered the arm furthest from me. I grabbed hold of it and for a second, I was afraid he was going to put his other hand on my back but he didn’t. He held it over me, shadowing me in case I fell, but didn’t touch me. I relaxed then, and stepped up into a truck. It was different than the one he’d had before.

  The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. I wasn’t thinking of home yet, just feeling a touch of happiness that I was getting out of the hospital. I hated hospitals.

  “Your truck is going to be jealous again,” I said when he got in the driver’s side.

  He looked at me with wide eyes and then his whole face lit up in a smile. I was surprised when something stirred in my chest, some feeling through that dull blanket that smothered me. He looked back over the hood of the truck and I realized he had tears in his eyes.

  “He’ll get over it,” he said in a low voice, as he pulled the truck away from the curb.

  He got on the highway and we drove in silence again.

  I wondered how things would have been different if Grant hadn’t come back.

  I wondered if anyone would have sat by me in the hospital. The uncomfortable thought popped into my head and registered. I wondered who had found me. I brushed it away.

  The landscape flew p
ast the windows as I took it in, I slowly slid my hand across the seat and snaked it under his arm. He sat extremely still, and then turned to look at me, cautiously. I met his eyes.

  “Thank you.”

  His eyebrows went up for a minute and he looked back at the road, squinting. “You’re welcome,” he said in an even voice. He carefully pulled at the tips of my fingers until he moved my hand under his, and then slowly let his cover mine. I folded my hand around his and watched out the window some more.

  * * * *

  As we got back into town, an uncomfortable feeling began to slide into my chest. I imagined what people were going to say. And I’d have to look them in the eye, seeing Roy flash in front of my face every time I did. This whole town felt like Roy’s town now. And Roy had died. No, he’d killed himself. Because of what he had done to me. Would they blame me for that? What did Katie think? What about Kathy? I couldn’t stand the thought of going back to work at the diner and facing them all.

  “You ok?” Grant whispered.

  I realized I had a death grip on his hand and immediately loosened it, but left my hand where it was under his.

  “Yeah,” I said, still looking out the window.

  I hoped I wouldn’t see anyone.

  We drove all the way through town and made it back to my apartment. Grant pulled into the familiar gravel driveway, and I took in my place with terror building within me and I panicked.

  “I can’t go in there,” I said before I could stop the words. I started trembling and I took my hand from Grant’s so that he wouldn’t feel it. I hugged my arms around my stomach, trying to get my hands to stop shaking. That hurt my stomach so I shoved them under my thighs.

  “Hey,” he said.

  I didn’t look at him, but stared ahead at the apartment, as if Roy was going to come tearing around the corner at me.

  “Rachel, you don’t have to go in there. I’ll go in and get some stuff for you and we’ll stay somewhere else for a while, okay?”

  I calmed down at his suggestion, but I still felt like my throat was closing off and my lungs were filling with something hot and wet. Was I imagining it?

  “Did you hear me?” he asked.

  I nodded. I reminded myself to just keep breathing. All I had to do was wait.

  “Okay, I’m going to go get some of your stuff.” He went to get out of the truck.

  “Grant?”

  He paused and turned around. “Yes?”

  I looked at him, trying to find the words. “I don’t want to ever go back in there.”

  He stared at me for a second and then lowered his eyes to the ground. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  He walked around the corner and vanished, and I closed my eyes. This place didn’t feel like home anymore. I wanted to leave and never come back. But where would I go? I wasn’t in any condition to start over again right now. I could stay with someone from town, but then I’d have to face them. Sam was out of the question because I’d have to hitch all the way to New York, and then what? I’d have to find him. If he was still there. I opened my eyes again, hoping a view of the fields would calm me down, but it didn’t. I started panicking, thinking about running from the truck. But the truck was the only safe place. It was Grant. Everything else around me was Roy.

  Grant appeared from around the corner again, carrying my quilt from my bed slung over his shoulder and my guitar in his hand. He walked to the truck, his head down. As he got closer, I could see that he also had my patchwork bag.

  He opened the door, pulling open the small door that led into the tiny back area behind our seats. He placed my things in the back. I noticed a bunch of my clothes balled up in the quilt.

  He went to close the door so he could make another trip. My heart rate accelerated, making a pain shoot through the middle of my chest.

  “Grant?”

  “Yeah?” He looked up, his expression apprehensive. His face changed when he saw mine. He climbed up into the truck next to me.

  “I don’t need anything else. Just get me out of here,” I mumbled, without looking at him.

  “Okay,” he answered, and slammed his door shut. He started the truck and we were gone.

  * * * *

  He drove for an hour, my hand wrapped in his again. Not even halfway into the trip, things began to look unfamiliar. Eventually we pulled into a hotel that looked way nicer than any place I’d ever stayed at in my life.

  “I’m going to get us a room, alright? Do you want to wait here?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back.” He gave my hand a little squeeze.

  He walked into the hotel and disappeared from my view. I peered in the back at my stuff. I eased my bag from the back, opening it. I spotted my gun right away. It made me feel safer. I shifted through some of the contents and pulled out the picture of me and Grant kissing. Our lips were against each other, but our whole faces were smiling. I wondered if I would ever feel that way again as I rubbed my thumb across the picture. I was starting to feel it now. That sense of loss. I’d recovered from Chad… but… would I from… this?

  The door opened next to me and I jumped hard, then winced at the tightness in my stomach. It felt like my insides were raw and the sensation made me sick. It’d gotten better, but it was still there.

  “Sorry,” Grant said. His eyes fell to the picture in my hand. He swallowed and looked up at me, his eyes full of sorrow. I really wished I could make him not be sad, but I couldn’t think of anything to say or do. He carefully took the picture out of my hand and put it back in my bag. “Ready?” he asked in a whisper.

  I got out of the truck and he reached in the back and grabbed my things. I followed him, not making eye contact with anyone as we walked in the hotel. It felt like everyone who walked by was staring at me. The lobby smelled of cleaner and the AC was cranked up so high I got goosebumps. The entrance was enormous, with huge marble pillars and marble floors. We stepped onto the carpet and I could feel it squish under my feet. I started wondering about Grant, how he could afford this.

  We got to an elevator and stepped in. I was immediately surrounded in mirrors, to my horror. I had been avoiding mirrors the entire time in the hospital and I startled when I caught my reflection. Even after the time I’d been in the hospital, half of my face was still badly bruised, starting with a huge blotch on my forehead where I must have hit the door and morphing into splashes of purples, blues and greens around my eye and down my cheek. There was a pink line across my cheek, right under my eye, where my skin had been stitched up at the hospital. They’d removed my stitches before I left. My neck looked dirty, but then I realized it was faint, yellow bruises from where Roy had choked me. There were a few lines running down my neck… from me. That’s where I’d clawed at Roy’s hands. The expression in my eyes was beyond sad. I looked soulless, empty.

  Now I knew why Grant was so delicate with me, and why he looked so sad when he looked at me. I wished I’d had it in me to hate Roy, but I couldn’t even feel that.

  Grant shifted his weight and I watched the lights that lit up above the door. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I followed him as we walked down the hall, our footsteps silent on the plush carpet. He shifted the quilt on his back and set down my guitar so he could open the door. He stepped in and held the door open for me. I walked into the room, a little awestruck. There were two big beds, adorned with oversized, white comforters. A rich red blanket accented the bottom of each bed. The carpet was thick. The bathroom was coated in marble and there was a whirlpool tub. I wondered what the sleek, black thing on the wall was… and then realized… it was the TV. A large desk sat next to a massive, cheerful window. A microwave sat on top of a small fridge by the desk.

  “Go ahead,” Grant said behind me gently, and I realized I was blocking his way.

  I walked into the room, almost tripping over my feet as I moved around in circles staring at everything.

  “Do you want something to ea
t?”

  “Sure,” I answered automatically.

  I chewed on my cheek and then tasted blood. I swallowed and stopped chewing on my cheek.

  Grant flicked on the TV and picked up a piece of paper. He handed it to me. “Here’s the menu,” he said.

  “I’ll have what you’re having,” I said, looking away. I stood in the middle of the room, not sure where to go.

  Grant took my hand gently and pulled me over to him. I tensed up, worried he was going to pull me in for a hug, but he guided me to sit on the edge of the bed. It was like sitting on a cloud. He held onto my hand. I was a little overwhelmed and wasn’t sure if I’d made the right decision. But then I remembered how it’d felt to be in town and I had to remind myself I was far away so I didn’t panic again.

  “Rachel.”

  I looked over at him, staring at his leg until I could make my eyes meet his.

  “I think you should come home with me for a while.”

  My brow furrowed. “What?”

  “You aren’t ready to go back to your place yet-”

  “Ever.” I corrected him as I looked away.

  He took a deep breath. “So I think you should come to my place. There’s more than enough room and you can stay as long as you want. Unless…”

  I swallowed as I watched his eyes that never seemed to quite meet mine.

  “Is there someone you want me to call?”

  Someone had asked me that very same question at the hospital. I’d said no. Now I wondered what to do. I couldn’t go back to Rayburne. The only person I briefly considered calling was Becky, and even that thought was terrifying. It would be awkward… I knew she would talk… and I knew I would have to leave her as soon as I could.