“Don’t you have your own car?”
“I do, but it’s currently sitting in my cousin’s garage, waiting for a paint job. Some idiot crashed into my side.”
“Were you injured?”
He shakes his head. “Fortunately, no.”
We’re sitting facing each other, until I tilt my head back to look at the stars.
He scoots over to sit closer to me. “It’s nice to know someone who’s able to appreciate the small things,” he whispers.
I look at him again. “Are you talking about me?”
He nods. “ You look up at the stars as if they’re the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.”
“They are most definitely not small things.”
“True, but I’d wager that there aren’t many people left who look up at them in such a dreamy way as you just did.” He smiles, leans over, and kisses my forehead.
“I like that the view is always the same. The stars aren’t changeable like people … like the people around me.” I take a sip from my Coke.
“True, but—” He breaks off when his phone starts to ring. “I should get that,” he says. “At this time of day, it’s probably important.”
“Okay,” I say as he gets up and rushes inside. My eyes follow him, and I can see him talking to someone as he stands at the kitchen counter. He has his back to me, so I catch myself straining my ears, trying to listen in on the conversation. It’s an awful habit, but right now, I can’t rein in my curiosity.
“Yes, Pearl … not today … no … you … I will, yes … bye … you, too,” I hear him say. Then he lowers his voice even further, and I can’t discern anything else.
The scales fall from my eyes.
They’re still on speaking terms. What if they’re just taking a break from each other, or what if he just cheated on her with me today? I feel queasy. I can sense my usual insecurity and a new feeling of guilt growing and festering inside me. Still, I think I should pretend I wasn’t eavesdropping. Tomorrow he’ll send me home anyway and probably won’t want to see me again after that. The feeling is mutual … at least, it was … before tonight.
***
Of course it had to happen. In the middle of the night, I woke up wrapped in Avery’s arms and legs, and the panic hit me. I don’t know where this panic attack came from, but I suddenly felt suffocated and couldn’t just lie there. With him.
He’s nice, considerate, and he didn’t judge me for my background, but his other friends or somebody in his life surely would. They would make fun of me, or worse, look down on me. It was bound to happen. So I get up and get dressed. Then I go into the kitchen and delete the call I made to Grandpa, so Avery won’t have my number anymore. And then I stealthily leave the house without leaving a message, because I don’t want to see him again.
Wait. Who am I trying to fool? Of course I want to see him again, and of course I want to have more of this breathtakingly great sex, which we had half the night. But it’s better for both of us if it doesn’t happen again.
When I get home, I lie on my couch and stare at the ceiling. I decide that today I’m going to tell Grandpa that I lost my job with the senior care agency and explain that I’m looking for another job to enable me to earn some money for my college fund. Even though, by now, I’m doubting whether that’s really going to happen.
When morning rolls around and Grandpa wakes up, he says, “Good morning, Dale,” good-naturedly, though there’s something in his voice I can’t quite place.
“Morning,” I reply, sitting up. I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes, because I was far too tired to change. But I never actually fell asleep.
“Why are you home already? Didn’t you stay with your friends?”
“Um … I couldn’t sleep, so I came home,” I answer before I can think of a better reply.
“You came back in the middle of the night? Are you out of your mind?” he suddenly rants. His voice is so loud I flinch.
“I … I was careful, and I really hurried, Grandpa. But I-I didn’t feel comfortable over there. Otherwise I w-wouldn’t have come back,” I stammer.
He sighs. “Don’t ever do that again. You friends could have brought you home, couldn’t they? Why didn’t you ask them?”
“They were all asleep.”
“So you just left without telling anyone?”
I nod sheepishly.
He sighs again. “I’ll give you a dollar to call them. You don’t want them to worry about you.”
“Thanks, Grandpa.”
“And why aren’t you at work yet?” he asks next.
Now it’s my turn to sigh and take a deep breath. “I lost my job,” I say softly. “The day I came home with a migraine, the agency went to check on me. Neither Trudy nor I were at home, so they fired me.”
Grandpa sits down heavily in his armchair. “What are you going to do now? Without this job you can’t save for college.”
“I know, and I’m already looking for another job,” I promise him. “Maybe I can find something in a fast food chain. There’s got to be some kind of job there that I can do.”
“I’m sure there is, Dale,” he says, standing again. “Come on. Let’s go out for breakfast. I had a lucky streak at poker last night.”
“I should take a shower and change first.” I get up as well. “I’ll be quick.”
“All right, I’ll wait here.”
Smiling, I turn away from him and run into the hallway, where the little, kid-size closet holding my clothes is tucked into a corner. Then I take a quick shower so he doesn’t have to wait too long. I don’t like the idea of Grandpa playing poker to supplement our income—that’s already gone wrong a few times and the result was us living on bread and jam for days on end. Maybe I should just write off college as something for the financially fortunate and just focus on putting food on the table for me and Grandpa. Go to work, and that’s it.
But I know that most jobs I can find will be barely enough to keep body and soul together, especially without a college degree or a learned trade. After I’ve shampooed in record time, I step out of the shower and towel myself dry before getting dressed.
“We can leave, I’m ready!” I call from the hallway as I put on my shoes.
Grandpa doesn’t answer, nor do I hear him move.
“Grandpa?” I ask and poke my head into the living room.
My breath leaves my chest.
“GRANDPA!” The scream has just left me as I run over to him, lying on the floor, completely still. I shake him gingerly, but he doesn’t react. “Grandpa! Grandpa, please wake up!”
Nothing happens. Panicking, I try to find his pulse, but by now I’m so anxious that I can’t find anything.
“Please,” I cry, “please, don’t die! I’m going to get help!” Then I turn away, bolt for the door, and rush over to the neighbors’. I hammer against their door. “Mr. Wilkers, please open the door! Mr. Wilkers, please!” I yell hysterically. “It’s me, Dahlia Walker! My grandfather fell and he isn’t moving!”
Finally the door opens to reveal Mr. Wilkers standing there, looking alarmed. “What’s wrong, Dale?”
“He fell! He’s lying on the floor! We need an ambulance! I don’t think he’s breathing!” I scream in the grip of my fear.
Mr. Wilkers springs into action. “I’ll call the ambulance, you go back and look after him!”
I don’t move a muscle. I don’t know why, but I can’t.
“GO!” Mr. Wilkers yells at me, and only then do my paralyzed limbs start to work again. I rush back over to our house, drop to my knees next to Grandpa, and try to find a pulse at his wrist. But again, I can’t.
“They’re on their way,” Mr. Wilkers says as he appears at my side and drops to his knees. His hands are much steadier than mine as he feels for a pulse now, too. Finally, he says, “I think he’s alive.”
I take a shaky breath, trying to feel relieved. “What’s wrong with him?” I cry.
“I don’t know,” Mr. Wilkers says gen
tly, “but we can’t forget that your grandfather is an old man.”
“But h-he was fine. We … we were about to go out for breakfast, because he said he won at poker last night, and now … he c-can’t die,” I stutter.
Only moments later, I hear the sirens. I get up and open the door. There’s no number on the front of our house, so I wave frantically at the paramedics. The ambulance stops, and they jump out and run toward me.
“He’s lying on the floor of the living room,” I tell them.
One of them dashes into the house, and I follow him closely. “What happened?” he asks.
“I … I don’t know. I was in the shower, and when I came out, he was lying on the floor not moving,” I explain.
Another paramedic comes in with a stretcher. He drops to his knees and feels for Grandpa’s pulse. “He’s still there. We have to take him to the hospital as quickly as possible.”
“Can I come?” I ask as they cautiously lift him onto the stretcher.
“Of course,” one of them answers as he place a respiratory mask over Grandpa’s face.
It all feels like a nightmare that I hope to wake from any moment, but when Mr. Wilkers gently prods me in the back to hurry and follow the paramedics carrying my grandpa away, I know it is real.
No.
“He’s going to be fine, Dale,” Mr. Wilkers whispers to me.
I can’t bring myself to speak as I hurry outside and into the ambulance.
Chapter 5
For four hours, Grandpa is examined and nearly turned inside out. But nobody comes out to the hallway to tell me what exactly is wrong with him. He’s always been healthy. I’ve never seen him weak or sickly. As I’m sitting in the hallway of Jackson Memorial Hospital, I stare into space. Whenever a doctor walks by, I jump up and ask them for information, but none of them can tell me anything about Grandpa yet. Of course I’m aware of his age and the possibility of losing him, but it’s too soon. There’s still so much I need him around for. So much I need to tell him, to thank him for, and now I don’t even know whether I’ll get the chance to do that.
“Miss Walker?” someone addresses me suddenly.
I snap out of my reverie and raise my eyes before scrambling to stand. “Yes? What’s wrong with my grandfather?”
A doctor is standing before me. “I’m very sorry, your grandfather has suffered a heart attack. He needs to go into surgery for another bypass. Otherwise his heart won’t be adequately supplied with blood.”
“Another bypass?” I ask, a new dread creeping up on me.
The doctor nods and squints at me, studying me closely. “ Mr. Walker has had three bypasses within the last five years. Due to his illness.”
My breath hitches. “What illness?” I nearly whisper. Why didn’t Grandpa tell me he’s ill? He never told me! “What’s wrong with him?”
“Miss Walker, please don’t fret,” the doctor says gently. “This is a routine operation, and your grandfather is next in line for the OR. If you want to, you can see him before he’s taken there.”
“Okay,” I stammer and let the doctor show me the way.
As I step into the hospital room, my chest feels constricted. I slowly approach Grandpa’s bed and look down at him. He’s awake now, but just barely.
“Dale,” he whispers.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask in a whisper as I sit down on the corner of the bed.
He looks at me, tired and weak. “I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want you to suffer any more than absolutely necessary after your mother passed away.” His voice is so low I have to focus really hard to understand him.
For a moment, I close my eyes and let my tears fall. “I’m so scared, Grandpa.”
He shakes his head weakly. “It’s just a quick surgery. I’ll be back in this bed in the blink of an eye, and then we’ll be talking as if nothing ever happened, Dale.”
“What if you don’t make it?” I whisper. “I can’t be on my own.”
“I will make it, and you’ll see that, afterwards, I’ll be the same old idiot I always was.” He tries to grin, but it looks strained.
“I … I have really never said thank you, Grandpa. Never. But I am so very thankful. You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“No, Dale, don’t talk as if this is the last time we’ll see each other,” he says. “In a few hours we can continue this conversation. I promise.”
The door opens, and two nurses come in. “Mr. Walker, we’re here to get you to the OR.”
“All right, I’m ready.” He presses my hand. “I’m so proud of you, Dale, and I’m sure that you will find happiness in this life.” He gives me a weak smile.
I walk beside the gurney until we reach a door and the nurse tells me I’m not allowed to follow anymore. “I love you, Grandpa,” I say, and then I realize it’s an elevator we’ve reached.
“I love you too, Dale.” He lets go of my hand, and I plant a kiss on his stubbly cheek. I stare after him long after the automatic doors of the elevator have closed.
***
After restlessly pacing the hallway for more than an hour, I sit in a chair facing the elevator door and will my thoughts to stop chasing each other. But fear and worry have me in their grip.
“Dahlia?” a woman’s voice finally interrupts my thoughts.
I raise my eyes and find Trudy looking down at me. “Oh … hi,” I say quietly.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, sitting in the chair next to me.
“My grandfather had a heart attack,” I say, and I feel it all rushing out of my mouth. “He’s in surgery. They’re giving him another bypass because he’s been ill for a long time and he … he never told me about it. He never told me that he’s had three bypasses in the last five years.” Tears start to well in my eyes.
Trudy puts an arm around me, and I gratefully lay my head on her shoulder. “They’re going to help him,” she tells me. “I’ve been coming here for years, and I’m happy with the doctors.”
I struggle not to cry and simply nod silently.
“Don’t fight it, Dahlia.”
I sniff, and the first teardrops find their way down my cheeks. “This is so unfair. He’s the only one I have.” I sniffle. “He can’t die on me now.”
“He’s not going to die, child,” she soothes.
“But what if he does?” I cry.
“You mustn’t think like that.” She rubs my arm. “Let’s talk about something else, something nicer, to get your mind off things … Why did you stop coming to see me?”
Sniffling, I confess, “I was fired for going home with that migraine and forgetting to call the agency.”
“Oh, dear.” She puts a hand to my cheek. “Well then you must simply start coming over again. We’ll figure out payment privately. You’re the first caretaker I actually liked having over, and I would be really glad if you came back,” she says in her warm voice.
I sit up straight. “Really?”
She nods, smiling at me. “Yes. I would like to be your employer, Dahlia.”
I’m touched that she’s offering me a job. No one else would waste another thought on me after I’ve been fired, but she seems to care. “Thank you, Trudy.”
“Give me a phone number so I can call you.”
“Okay, but I-I can’t call you back. We, uh, we have some problems with our provider at the moment,” I stammer. It’s not exactly a lie, but it’s not the whole truth.
She hands me a pen and a scrap of paper, and I write down our number. “Thank you,” she says as I hand both back to her.
“Don’t you have to go?” I ask.
“Nonsense,” she says. “Avery can wait for me, though I don’t believe he’s downstairs already anyway. Besides, once he gets bored, he’ll come up here looking for me. Then he’ll keep glaring at all the doctors.” She smirks. “You and Avery, you two would get along swell.”
This time I’m the one who nods. “Maybe.”
We sit together in silence,
which isn’t awkward at all, but whenever a doctor emerges from the elevator, I jump up and ask after Grandpa. But nobody can tell me anything.
It feels like walking through hell.
I’m standing with my back to Trudy, staring at the elevator doors once again, when I hear, “Granny, why didn’t you come down?”
The sound of Avery’s voice sends strange sensations coursing through me.
“Because I wanted to stay with Dahlia,” Trudy says.
I slowly turn and look at him. My swollen eyes must have startled him, because he asks, “What the hell happened?”
I can’t produce the words to tell him as he steps closer and looks at me with a worried face.
“What happened, Dale?” he repeats, pulling me into his embrace.
“My grandfather, h-he had … had … ”
“Her grandfather had a heart attack,” Trudy helps out. “He’s currently in surgery.”
I bury my face against Avery’s chest, and he strokes the back of my head.
“You stay with her, Avery,” Trudy says softly. “I’m going to take a taxi home.”
“Okay,” he agrees.
“Miss Walker?” someone says.
I immediately pull away from Avery and face the doctor. The pity in his expression is clear. “No,” I gasp, shaking my head wildly. “No! You’re not telling me he’s—”
“Listen to him first,” Avery whispers.
“Miss Walker, I’m so sorry, but your grandfather had another heart attack while he was in surgery. We tried to reanimate him after the cardiac arrest, but we couldn’t help him anymore,” the doctor explains. “My sincere condolences.”
I stare at him. “No, he is not … He is not dead. He is not dead,” I repeat like a mantra. I can’t see anything through my tears. “He is not dead. You’re lying!” I suddenly scream at the doctor, feeling an uncontrollable urge to hit him. But Avery wraps his arms around me and holds me back. “He can’t be dead!” I screech.
“Calm down, Dale.”
“Oh God,” Trudy breathes.
“If I can do anything for you, don’t hesitate to call,” the doctor says.
“Thanks,” Avery says, still holding me tight. Without him, I would break down and faint. “I’m going to take her home with me so she can get some sleep and calm down.” I don’t know who he’s talking to, and I don’t care.
Avery: Sensual Desire: New Adult College Romance (Coral Gables Series Book 2) Page 6