Carrying Hope

by Tate, Sennah

  I couldn’t concentrate on anything, so I eventually gave up for the night. I wanted to be as well-rested as possible for my day with Marcie and her grandmother.

  The next morning, a knock on my door woke me from my lust-filled sleep. I grunted, looking at the clock: 8 AM. It was too early.

  “Bryce?” Marcie’s soft voice called from the other side of the door and my brain was suddenly away.

  That wasn’t the only part of me brought to attention by Marcie’s presence.

  I climbed out of bed and poked my head out the door.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?” She looked great in her new clothes: form-fitting jeans and a black sweater that accentuated all of her curves.

  “That’s okay,” I mumbled over a yawn.

  “I’m just so excited, I couldn’t hardly sleep,” she said, practically bouncing in place.

  “Okay,” I grinned, “let me get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  She retreated and I lingered at the door for a moment to admire the curve of her ass as she walked away. I thought she was beautiful in her old baggy clothes that hid her body; now she was a total knock-out.

  I got dressed in record time and flew down the stairs, just as eager for the day as Marcie was, albeit for different reasons. I hoped that Marcie’s grandmother would like me. She was the only family that Marcie had, so I assumed her opinion would be important. I didn’t know what to expect from the old woman, but I was nervous, regardless.

  “So, is this your maternal grandmother, or paternal?” I asked as we climbed into my car. I opted to drive today for no particular reason.

  “She’s my dad’s mom,” she answered matter-of-factly.

  “I see. So on a day when you could go anywhere in the world and do anything you want to do, why do you want to go upstate to see her?”

  I saw the corners of her mouth twitch upwards.

  “Because, my Nana is one of my all-time favorite people. She helped me when I was in trouble and she was always there for me until she got sick.”

  I hesitated to ask, but I was dying to know.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  Marcie didn’t look at me when she answered.

  “Alzheimers.”

  The sadness in her voice was like a punch to the gut. I wanted to make her pain go away, but there was nothing my money could do for this.

  “I’m sorry, Marcie.”

  “Don’t be. I’m just happy I get to visit her again. It’s been way too long and who knows if I’ll ever have another chance.”

  “I understand.” I could vividly remember how terrifying and devastating it was to watch my mother slowly slip away. I couldn’t imagine seeing it happen dragged out over years.

  We spent the two-hour car ride chit-chatting about this and that, but not really talking about anything important or emotionally charged. I accepted that I wasn’t the only one with a lot going on in my mind. We both needed a distraction from our troubles and thankfully, we were able to distract one another.

  “Suffice to say, I’m not allowed in Russia anymore,” I finished my story with Marcie laughing uncontrollably.

  “That’s awesome. Talk about a misunderstanding,” she giggled, wiping tears from her eyes.

  I laughed with her, my heart light and unburdened at the moment, thanks to her.

  “Yeah. Unfortunately, the police over there don’t really believe in ‘misunderstandings’. Fortunately, they’re very susceptible to bribes.”

  “You had to bribe a police officer?” Her eyes were wide with disbelief and I smirked and gave her a nonchalant shrug.

  “It was either that or spend twenty years doing hard labor in Siberia.”

  She gasped, covering her mouth, and looked at me like she wasn’t sure who I was.

  “Oh my gosh. That sounds so scary.”

  I shrugged again. At the time I’d been scared shitless, but I wasn’t going to let her know that.

  “I’ve managed to get myself out of worse situations.”

  She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me one bit.

  “Okay, maybe not worse, but equally bad situations.”

  She raised her eyebrows, still not buying it.

  “All right. You got me. That was the worst. But I got out of it.”

  She laughed again, nudging my shoulder.

  “Well, I’m glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

  The car’s navigation system told us that we’d arrived at our destination as I pulled in to the nursing home.

  “We’re here!” Marcie exclaimed, clapping her hands.

  “We are,” I said less enthusiastically. My first impressions of the facility were not positive.

  It was a state-run nursing home, so it already had one strike against it. The facade of the building was crumbling and there were bars over the windows. The entire set-up looked bleak and depressing and I felt a rush of guilt that Marcie’s grandmother was locked up in this place.

  We walked in through the front doors and a surly looking nurse greeted us with a ‘I’ll get to you in a minute’ and a sour look on her face.

  The inside of the building wasn’t any more promising than the outside; ancient wallpaper hung from the walls in peeling strips, the ceiling tiles were covered in water stains and the entire place smelled like the nurses neglected to clean the bed pans. I had half a mind to complain to the governor, but I didn’t want to make any more waves until I figured out the whole thing with my father.

  The nurse finally turned her attention to us.

  “What do you want?”

  Marcie looked at me like she was afraid of speaking to the nurse, but she finally piped up.

  “We’re here to see Agnes Gallagher,” she answered, her voice trembling slightly.

  The nurse rolled her eyes and gave us each a visitor’s badge and the room number.

  I kept my hand on the small of Marcie’s back as we walked down the hallway. I could feel her tension and though I didn’t quite know the cause of it, I knew enough to want to reassure her.

  “This place has changed a lot since I was here last,” she said sadly.

  “It was never the Ritz or anything, but it was at least clean.”

  I frowned, wishing I had something helpful to say.

  “I’m sorry, Marcie.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she answered, brightness working its way back into her voice. “I’m here and that’s all that matters.”

  We arrived at room 1128 and Marcie walked in first.

  A small elderly woman sat in an armchair by the window. The sill was covered in potted plants in varying stages of dehydration. The room was tidy, but disorganized. There was a pair of socks draped over a lamp shade, a toothbrush on top of the television and a pair of reading glasses in a coffee mug.

  Marcie approached the older woman and knelt in front of her while I hung back in the doorway.

  “Hi Nana,” Marcie said quietly.

  The old woman turned her gaze from the window to Marcie and a huge smile split her wrinkled face.

  “Marcia, you came to visit me!”

  “Of course I did, Nana. I brought a friend too,” she waved me over and I obeyed, “This is Bryce, Bryce, this is my Nana, Agnes.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Oh, let me give you a hug. Both of you!” Agnes cried, standing from her chair and giving both Marcie and me a tight squeeze. There was a lot of strength in those frail-looking bones.

  As she stepped away from me, I could see tears shining in her eyes. Marcie must have gotten her eyes from her grandmother because they had identical warm, loving gazes. Though her short hair was completely gray and her skin was wrinkled, her eyes shone with an energetic youth that her granddaughter inherited.

  “How have you been?” Marcie asked, pulling up another chair.

  Agnes waved a hand dismissively.

  “Who cares about how an old woman is? Tell me about this handsome fella of
yours,” she said with a wink in my direction.

  “I hope you’re taking good care of my granddaughter, young man.”

  I chuckled and nodded.

  “I’m trying my best,” I answered.

  “I’m sure she doesn’t make it easy.”

  “Nana!” Marcie exclaimed, hiding her face in embarrassment.

  “What?” She asked innocently, “He’d have to be as dumb as a box of rocks to not realize that you’re as stubborn as a mule.”

  “It’s not like that, Nana. We’re just friends,” Marcie corrected. I felt my heart sink a little, but I tried not to show it on my face.

  “Oh, I see. They must have changed the definition of that word since my day,” she teased.

  Marcie turned even redder and I fought to hold in my laughter.

  “Well, if you don’t want him, I’ll take two.”

  It was my turn to blush. I’d never been hit on by a elderly woman and I didn’t quite know how to react. Marcie thought my unease was hilarious.

  “Marcia, will you be a dear and get me some tea from the cafeteria? I can’t quite get rid of this chill in my bones,” Agnes asked.

  Marcie jumped up from her chair and gave her grandmother a pat on the shoulder.

  “Sure, I’ll be right back.”

  I started to follow her, but Agnes called to me.

  “Young man, I’d like for you to stay here, please,” she said sternly.

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat and walked back to her seat by the window as Marcie disappeared down the hallway.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I asked hesitantly.

  “I’ll say!” She exclaimed, her raspy voice full of matriarchal authority.

  “When are you going to tell my granddaughter how you feel about her?”

  It took every ounce of my will power to not show my surprise on my face.

  “I’m sorry? I don’t understand,” I lied.

  “Don’t play games with me, boy. You’re no more difficult to read than the daily paper.”

  I sighed.

  “It’s complicated,” I admitted.

  “I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” she said, gesturing me closer.

  I sat in the chair that Marcie occupied only moments earlier and braced myself for something I undoubtedly didn’t want to hear.

  “Everything is complicated. If you’re going to let a little thing like that get in the way of your happiness, then you don’t deserve it. Anything worth having is going to be a bitch and a half to get… and keep.”

  I glanced back towards the door, making sure Marcie wasn’t coming in as I spoke.

  “I don’t want to take advantage of her…”

  The old woman laughed and slapped my knee.

  “You’re dumber than you look; she’s crazy about you.”

  I shook my head. No… Marcie may think she was interested in me, but every time we got close, one of us pulled away. Surely it shouldn’t be that difficult.

  “I don’t think so. She has a lot going on right now.” It wasn’t my place to tell Marcie’s grandmother about her break-up or the baby or anything really.

  “Who does?”

  My gaze flicked back to Agnes and I saw something different in her eyes. They were no longer the same as Marcie’s; her face was plastered with a look of confusion.

  “Who are you?” She asked angrily.

  “I’m Bryce… your granddaughter’s friend?”

  “You’re a liar!” She shouted at me, standing up and shoving me.

  I stood up and started to back away from her.

  “No, remember? I’m Marcie’s friend.”

  “Marcia’s just a baby. You’re a liar. Get out!” She screamed.

  A nurse came rushing in, hearing the commotion.

  “What happened?” He asked, trying to calm Agnes down.

  “Nothing!” I claimed. Marcie’s grandmother was still shouting and trying to swing at me.

  Of course, Marcie chose that moment to walk back in with a steaming cup of tea.

  “What’s happening?” She asked, hurt and confusion shimmering in her eyes.

  “I… I don’t know,” I faltered, wishing I had answers for her.

  The nurse eventually sedated the old woman.

  “I think she’s had enough visitors today,” he said, obviously dismissing us.

  “But we only just got here!” Marcie cried, tears threatening to spill down her face.

  “Well, what did you expect?” The nurse spat. I wanted to punch him.

  Marcie approached her grandmother and held the old woman’s frail hand. Her pupils were dilated from the drugs and whatever she was trying to say came out in a slur.

  “I’m sorry, Nana. I’ll come back to see you again soon, I promise.” She bent to give her a kiss on the forehead and I saw a tear trickle down Marcie’s cheek. I wanted so badly to make all of this better for her. I wanted to take all of her pain and anguish away. But this was one problem that my money and power could never remedy. I felt helpless.

  Chapter 19

  It had been a month since “the Nana incident”. Obviously, with my Nana’s illness, those kind of outbursts weren’t uncommon, but I still hated that it happened to Bryce. I hadn’t spoken to him since we got home. I actually didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t bother with the garden. I just stayed in my room and avoided the world. I didn’t understand how she could go from perfectly fine one minute, to having a breakdown in the next. It worried me. I knew she didn’t have much longer left. There were so many things that I wanted to learn from her still. So many things that I wanted to tell her. I couldn’t stand the idea of losing my Nana, but it was something I was trying to come to terms with.

  Bryce tried and tried to get me to talk to him. He knocked on my door, he talked to me through the wall, he slipped notes under my door, but I was too depressed to face him. I didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes. I didn’t want to watch him struggle to come up with something comforting to say when nothing could comfort me.

  I felt guilty for ignoring him. I knew I shouldn’t. I knew I would have to eventually face my problems. I couldn’t hide from them forever.

  My belly was only just starting to show a tiny bit. On my larger frame it was hardly noticeable; that didn’t stop me from looking at myself in the mirror constantly. I couldn’t believe that I had this tiny thing growing inside of me. Even more, I couldn’t believe how much I already loved it. I couldn’t wait to meet my tiny bean and hold them close and never let go.

  Though I’d never really thought about motherhood much, the more I thought about it the more excited I got. I needed something positive to look forward to. Raising a child on my own was going to be a struggle, but I knew I could do it. I had to. I wouldn’t abandon my child like my mother did. I couldn’t give her up for adoption. Or him.

  Every time I thought about my baby, I thought about it as a girl. I didn’t really think that I had a preference, but I always slipped into thinking of my baby as a little girl. I wondered if that was my so-called “Mother’s intuition” that told me the sex of my baby. I didn’t want to be disappointed if it was a boy, though, so I kept reminding myself of that possibility.

  I’d started to think of names. I had a notebook full of name possibilities, but nothing sounded quite right.

  My stomach growled and I looked at the clock on the wall. It was only 8 PM. For the past month or so, while I was avoiding everyone, I only went down to the kitchen to get food after everyone had gone to bed. After the first few days, Clara began to leave me already-prepared meals in the refrigerator that I could just heat up. It was too early for me to be hungry. People were bound to still be milling about.

  I could stand to run into Clara or Francis. I’m sure they knew all about our visit to my Nana. I didn’t really want anyone’s pity, but I missed their friendship dearly. I just didn’t want to run into Bryce. I hated that I was avoiding him. I didn’t know how to handle all of my emotions right now and he on
ly made that uncertainty worse. He created so many feelings within me that I didn’t know how to deal with. I had enough of that right now without him. I knew it wasn’t fair to treat him this way when he didn’t do anything wrong. I even worried that he would think he did do something wrong.

  I cried during the entire ride back from the nursing home. Bryce didn’t say anything. He rested his hand on my leg just to let me know he was there for me, but he never tried to make me talk about my feelings. He never tried to force me to cheer up. He never gave me a meaningless ‘it’s okay’ or anything. He was perfect. He just let me have my feelings.

  Of course, once we got back to his house and the days went by, all of that changed. After a week, he was at my door every day, multiple times a day. It wasn’t locked; he could have come in anytime he wanted to. Even if it was locked, it was his house, he would be able to come in. He chose not to, I’m assuming, because he respected my need for solitude.

  So, yeah, he was still perfect. Part of me wished he hadn’t given up so easily. After two weeks of ignoring him, Bryce stopped knocking on my door. His notes made it clear that he was still at my disposal, but I just couldn’t bring myself to see him again.

  My stomach grumbled again, letting me know that it wasn’t going to keep being patient forever.

  “All right, all right,” I muttered, patting my tiny baby bump. She was a needy little girl. Or boy.

  I opened my door a crack and peered into the hallway, trying to make out the shadows and make sure no one was wandering around. The hallway looked clear, so I tip-toed out and down the stairs. I stuck my head around the corner the led to the kitchen, looking for any signs of movement. When I saw none, I sprinted to the kitchen, hoping to stay undetected. The house was dark and chilly; I wondered where everyone was so early.

  Spotting a sandwich, I reached out and started to take over-sized bites, stuffing my face.

  “Mmm,” I moaned, my stomach thanking me for the offering.

  Half of the sandwich was gone before I reached the stairs. The other half was gone by the time I reached the second floor. I paused at the top of the stairs, listening for footsteps or voices.

  I took two steps toward my room when I heard a loud crash like glass breaking followed by angry shouting coming from down the hall. I looked toward my room and then back toward the yelling and cursed myself for what I was about to do. I should just go back to my room and stay put. I didn’t need to get involved with whatever was going on. But what if Bryce was fighting with someone? What if someone was breaking in? I couldn’t just ignore it.