by SL Naeole
"Morning, Grace," he replied gruffly. "I'm going to call the hospital and see if we can get your arm x-rayed early, so I suggest you get dressed and ready to leave by eight."
"But I-"
He held up his hand, "No buts, Grace. I'm going to get your arm back in that cast. I saw those x-rays, and there's no way that your arm would have healed this fast. Now go and get dressed."
"Dad, I'm already dressed," I pointed out.
Blinking a few times to clear his foggy vision, he finally noticed my jeans and t-shirt. Unfortunately, he also noticed that my jean clad right leg was conspicuously cast free. "Where's your cast?" he asked, his voice calm but hinting at the anger that was threatening just beneath the surface.
"My leg is fine Dad--there's no need for the cast-"
It was as if I had learned nothing from the night before. The puce shade was back, but when combined with his helter-skelter hair, and his glassy eyes, he looked terrifying. I backed away, fearful of him for the first time.
"Grace, I want you to get in your room, I want you to call Robert, and I want you to tell him to meet us here in thirty minutes. Is that clear?"
I nodded, and inched my way around him, quickly opening my bedroom door and shutting it, bracing myself against it. As soon as the sound of the latch could be heard, Robert had me in his arms, my face pressed against his shoulder, his hands at the small of my back and the back of my head, warm and comforting.
"Oh, I've made a mess of things," I groaned. "I've never seen him that angry before. What is he going to do?"
Robert's movements were a blur of speed as I was sitting in his lap on the bed before I had even gotten to the word "angry". He stroked my hair, his hands reassuring. He'll yell at me, accuse me of not caring for your welfare after all the trust he's put in me, threaten me with bodily harm if I ever set foot near you again...the usual things a father says when he loves his daughter.
The groaning didn't seem to cease. "He's completely overacting. I'm so sorry about all of this."
A finger beneath my chin forced my face to look up, and a soft smile urged me to relax. You have nothing to be sorry about. If you had to spend all night in those things, you'd have had a much worse night than it was. I'll deal with this. Don't worry, Grace. It'll work out.
I shook my head. How was this going to work out? How was he going to convince my father that it was perfectly sane and safe for him to have removed my casts without telling him how or why? And even if he did, what were the odds that Dad would believe him? It wasn't looking to good on this end.
A knock on my door jolted us apart, and when my door opened before I had a chance to answer whoever it was on the other side, Robert had disappeared and Janice was walking in. "I just wanted to see that you were okay. See if I can't try and get James to see it a bit from your side."
She sat down next to me, oblivious to the remnant of gray mist creeping out of my window, and placed her hands on mine, squeezing them and sighing, "How was your date? Did you have fun?"
"Yes, for the most part," I replied, once again unable to do anything but be honest.
Janice's face was full of happiness, and I knew that she would be understanding about the casts. "Will you really talk to Dad about my casts? He doesn't want to see that I really am fine without them."
She lifted her hands from mine and reached for my arm. She examined the length, looked at my elbow, watched my face as she bent and straightened my arm. She made me flex my fingers, flex my arm, make a fist. She was school nurse Janice and I was patient Grace, being given the once over to see if I could go back outside and play.
"I think your arm is perfectly fine, Grace. I don't know how. From what your father told me, it was a clean break, and that should take at least six weeks to heal, never mind the dislocated shoulder. And then we have your leg. I saw you walk to the bathroom this morning, and there's no way that you should be able to walk if your leg were truly as bad as it was made out to be. I don't know how or why, and right now, I don't want to. I'll tell your dad what I think, and after that, it's in the doctor's hands. I can only hope that Robert can somehow convince your father not to kill him."
I burst out into hysterical giggles as I thought about how my hand had looked after my playful jab at Lark. I didn't want to imagine what Dad would look like if he intentionally hit Robert. Janice's face was reproachful at my fit of laughter, and I attempted to stem it, not wanting to lose her confidence in my side. I quickly tucked my lips between my teeth and pressed down hard, the pain and the resulting tears doing much to sober me up to the gravity of the situation.
When Janice stood up and left, I looked at the clock and saw that there was exactly ten minutes left before Robert would be standing on the doorstep, ringing that bell. He hadn't told me he'd be there in thirty minutes, but I knew that he'd heard Dad's orders and wouldn't do anything to cause me to get into any more trouble. I looked at the sunlight shining through my window, and saw the glint of amber reflected against the wall; I followed the reflection to its source. It was one of the crystals from the dress; it had apparently fallen off after I had removed the dress and dropped it in Robert's lap. I bent down to retrieve it and held it up into the light.
The colors that sparkled from within it reminded me of fire and gold all at once, bouncing out onto the walls, sending shards of light and flash into every corner. I twisted my hand, causing the crystal's ocher rainbow to move along the white walls, as though splashing it with the colors of the sunrise and sunset that you couldn't see without staring directly at the sun.
My gaze was drawn to the center of the crystal; my vision entranced by the sweet hum of the soft colors that swayed and bent in the light. Their hypnotic dance lulled me into such a state of repose; I could see flames leaping and dancing around a familiar woman holding tightly to a child. I could see the woman's tears, and I could see the abject fear on her face as the flames grew higher and hungrier, their tongues reaching towards them, smelling the sweetness of apprehension.
She turned to me and she reached her hand out, her dark eyes filled with hope, as though I were her salvation. I felt my arm rise, felt it reach out towards her, but she was too far away. I saw the way her eyes glossed over with unshed tears as the fire surrounded her, cutting off all means of escape, and I watched as the flames consumed her. I could not close my eyes until hers blinked in the recognition of death, and the darkness that was there was replaced by amber gold.
It was then that I opened my eyes, not realizing that I had closed them, and noticed that the crystal seemed to have lost some of its sparkle. Yesterday's sun was definitely a fluke, I decided as I looked out of my window and saw that the clouds were rolling through, settling in for another rainy October morning. The sunlight that had warmed up the room and had helped the pretty bauble decorate my life with a bit of color was fading behind a gloomy Sunday morning. Sighing, I placed the crystal on the nightstand next to my bed and headed downstairs. My daydreaming had burned a few more minutes away, leaving me absolutely no time to be left alone with Dad while he plotted the dozens of ways he'd kill Robert.
As soon as my foot hit the bottom step, the doorbell rang. Dad, having forgone his usual routine of sitting at the kitchen table to read his paper and eat his breakfast, had instead placed a cup of coffee and a plate of toast on the coffee table. Alongside them was an unopened paper and a book on first aid. He sat in the recliner, waiting, a contemplative look on his face. I was tempted to ask if the book was for him or Robert, but kept my mouth shut. It just wouldn't do for me to start running off at the mouth.
Seeing that he wasn't going to get up and get the door, I went to answer it. I took a deep breath as I turned the handle on the knob. He was standing there in the same black jacket he had worn the first day that I had seen him. His hair was disheveled, but everything else about him was perfect. His smile was reassuring, and his eyes were full of promise and reassurance. Maybe there wouldn't be a need for the first aid book after all.
He looked a
t me, puzzled, and his eyes softened with humor. Your father has a first aid book out? I could feel him, feel him in my thoughts as he searched my memory for the image, and when he saw it, he smiled. He truly does love you. You are very blessed, Grace.
I gaped at him. My father was about to give him the third degree and here Robert was, praising the man. Too perfect.
He grinned and held his arm out to the side of me. "Ladies first."
I sighed. Even though it had been only a few minutes since I last heard him speak, hearing the words come out of his mouth reminded much I loved his voice. "You should do that more often," I prodded, "Just so I don't ever forget what it sounds like."
"I'll remember to from now on." His smile was playful, teasing despite the reason his presence was required.
Entering the living room, I reached for his hand. If Dad was going to give him the third degree, he'd do it while facing me, too. Robert intertwined his fingers with mine. It was the only thing either of us could do before the onslaught of Dad's anger was upon us.
He stood in front of the two of us, his arms folded across his chest tightly, as if he were holding them back, and his voice boomed out at Robert in an angry bark. "I want to know why you thought it would be a good idea to remove Grace's casts."
Robert answered the only way he knew how. Honestly. "Because she didn't need them anymore."
Of course Dad wasn't going to accept that answer, not from some kid, no matter what they did in order to save my life. "That's absolute crap and you know it. Do you know what kind of damage you could have caused because of your stupidity?"
I flinched at the insult, and started to speak when the crushing grip of Robert's hand, and a flurry of thoughts silenced me. "Mr. Shelley, I was wrong to have removed Grace's casts without your permission, or that of her doctor. I should have left them on until it was advisable by her physician to have them removed. If any harm has come to Grace as a result of my impetuousness, I will never forgive myself."
Dad opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it. He paced around for a bit, nodding to himself, then started to say something else, but changed his mind again. He did this twice more, looking like a confused goldfish, before finally speaking again.
"Robert, I'm taking Grace to the hospital to have her arm and leg re-x-rayed. If she's suffered any more damage to her breaks because of your foolishness, I will hold you personally and financially responsible. Until I know for sure that she'll be fine, I think it's best that the two of you don't see each other anymore."
"Dad!" I protested, "You can't do that! It was my choice! He wouldn't have removed the casts if I hadn't said I wanted him to!"
Robert again squeezed my hand. "It's okay, Grace. Your father is right. What's paramount here is your health and safety. Everything else can wait."
Traitor! I looked in Robert's eyes and simply could not understand when it was that he had decided to aid in Dad's complicity. I'm fine. You know I'm fine. How can you do this?
"Let's go, Grace. Get in the car," Dad ordered. I took one last look at Robert, his face sad, but his eyes still smiling, and then did as I was told.
***
"See, James. I told you she was okay. You should have listened to me and we could have avoided this entire fiasco."
Janice was doing her best to reassure Dad that the doctors had been correct when one by one, they all concurred that my bones were not broken, and that I had healed in a remarkably fast amount of time, although that could have been contributed to my young age, as one doctor had put it. "She's going to be fine, James."
Dad shook his head for the four hundredth time that day--no exaggeration. It was nearly four in the afternoon and we'd seen four different doctors from two different shifts who all gave the same diagnosis regarding my breaks--or lack thereof. Sitting in Dad's car had taken an act of deception on Janice's part--a slight fib about being dizzy and nauseated by the hospital smell--but it was a step closer to getting away from the hospital. Without another doctor nearby to accost, Dad was finally coming to grips with the fact that my leg and arm weren't broken, and that Robert hadn't placed me in any type of danger.
Okay, so maybe not that last part. But Janice was wearing him down; I could see it on his face. "James, I don't see how many more times you have to be told that she's okay before you finally accept that she is okay."
Dad's hands were gripping the top of the steering wheel, his head resting on them. "You don't understand, Janice. You don't understand what this is like."
Janice's hand reached out to comfort him; she stroked his hair, and patted his shoulder. "Tell me then. Tell me so that I can understand, because I really want to. I'm sure Grace would, too." She turned her head to look at me in the backseat, and I nodded mutely, knowing that saying anything right now would simply set Dad off again, and I didn't know about Janice but I knew that I personally was quite done with being "that girl with the crazed father".
I'd be lucky if I were given an aspirin in this hospital again, much less treated for anything after what Dad had put the staff through today.
Dad lifted his head and I could see his reflection in the rearview mirror. His eyes rested on purple half-moons, the exhaustion written quite plainly in them. But there was also something else hidden behind them. Was it fear? I watched as he turned his head towards Janice, and spoke, not necessarily to her.
"You don't know what it's like. After Abby's accident, everyone kept wondering how anyone could have survived without a scratch or burn on them. The explosion took out a telephone pole that was twenty feet away; twenty feet away! And everyone kept looking at this little girl like she was either some kind of miracle or oddity.
"But people--people are fickle when it comes to what they like to talk about, what keeps them interested. The miracle of a child surviving a car accident just doesn't sound as exciting as a child causing the accident and surviving it when her mother didn't. Grace didn't remember anything, so the explanations were all based on speculations and assumptions.
"It doesn't matter if there's any truth to the story or not. What matters is what sounds more interesting. This has followed Grace her entire life, and she's suffered for it. I probably should have moved, rather than subject her to the constant scrutiny she's had to go through by some of the kids here, but I couldn't leave; Abby's buried here, and I simply couldn't leave because people were gossiping.
"And now this--don't you see what people will say? What they'll think? She's going to be ridiculed again, because for whatever reason, she's not healing like a normal person. Normal people get burned in fires. Normal people get hurt when they're thrown from vehicles. Normal people's bones don't heal in two weeks after being run over by a car."
Normal people don't date angels.
"James, you're being ridiculous. I'm sure that-"
Dad's anger silenced everything, even my breathing, as he raged. "I'm not being ridiculous! I'm the one who's raised her, seen the way she's been left out of everything. I'm the one who's had to comfort her when the birthday party invitations went to every girl in her class but her, when the kids would tease her because of how she looks; I was the one who watched her grow up with only one friend, and I was the one who watched when that friend left her, too. Don't tell me that what I've seen and what I know will happen is me being ridiculous, Janice!"
I sat stunned. The memories of my childhood had long since dulled to a mild irritation, but I never knew that they had affected Dad so profoundly. He had never indicated that he'd been distressed by it; I had always thought that he'd simply viewed it as a part of life. And to know that he was aware as to why, that brought our current situation into perspective. More than his fear that I would be hurting myself if my leg and arm were still broken, he was worried about how people would treat me. He was worried about my emotional wellbeing. I rubbed my fingers against my eyes, my tears acting as lubrication.
"Dad, it's okay. I don't care about what they say anymore." I looked at his face. The pain there added years
to his age, and I needed to rid him of that. Rid him of the fear of my own pain and rejection. "I'm going to be fine, Dad. Really."
He shifted in the seat to face me, his mouth wore a small frown, and his hair--it was still a mess, but he was Dad. I could see myself in his face, see the parts of him that were shared with me, and I could see the parts that had been my mom's to keep. And now, those belonged to Janice... "Dad, my life has never been better. I have friends--real friends who don't care about the accident, or what other people are saying behind my back, or any of that. They care about me--Robert cares about me. I'm not alone in this anymore, Dad. And neither are you. Janice is here with you, too."
He looked at Janice, and I could see as his face softened that he knew it, too. If I had had any doubts about Janice remaining, they were gone in that instant. There was definite love there between the two of them. I could see it. And after a moment, I could hear it as they pressed their heads together, whispering the words to each other. It was a scene that was familiar to me in most ways except for one, but I couldn't afford to be melancholy, not when I already had so much.
When the car started and we left the hospital parking lot, I stared out of the window. The ride home was a familiar one, and I easily slipped into a moment much like this one, where Dad and I were headed home from the hospital after being told that I was fine, just in shock. Dad hadn't yelled then, but then again, he didn't do much of anything. He had simply buckled me in and then drove home. At least this time, he had someone with him other than me.
As we pulled into the driveway, I could see a Stacy's Neon and Robert's motorcycle parked at the curb. Both were leaning against her car, talking and waiting. Stacy's face was anxious, while Robert's seemed pleased. I smiled at the thoughts he chose to share with me. Stacy had been caught wind of our date and wanted all of the details. Like a typical girlfriend would. It felt good.
As we all exited the vehicle, I could see the tenseness that had slightly retreated in Dad suddenly return. And it had brought some friends. "Robert, I would like to have a word with you and Grace inside. Stacy, please excuse us, but this has to be done in private."