* * *
The pub was busy, but not as crowded and noisy as it would be later in the evening. The Queen’s Corset had been around as long as I could remember. It was clean and well kept, worn enough to be comfortable and small enough to be cozy. The menu was standard pub fare—hearty, stick-to-your-ribs type food.
I arrived early enough to get a booth and was sipping a margarita when Tracey sauntered into the pub fifteen minutes late with an excited smile on her face. The smile widened when she saw me and she practically skipped over to the booth, peeling her faded black leather jacket off as she went. The leopard print dress she wore hugged her body, showing off every curve. Long legs were encased in silky, black tights and huge gold hoop earrings brushed her shoulders with each step. She slid into the seat across from me and rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “Oh, man, do I need a beer. I’ve been so looking forward to this all day.”
The waitress came over and I waited until Tracey had ordered her beer before I said, “Okay, tell me what happened today.”
Tracey looked at me blankly for a second. “Oh, right. Dammit, I didn’t wanna talk about work tonight.”
“Then you should have waited for me after work instead of taking off so fast.”
“Hey, it takes a while to get myself looking this good. I needed every spare minute.”
I doubted it. She was just as gorgeous without all the makeup and sexy clothes. “So, what happened?”
“I sent Mrs. Martin in for her bath today and when I picked her up, she told me Sheila slapped her.”
My mouth fell open. “Seriously? Did you find any marks?”
Tracey’s face darkened. “No. When I asked her where, she pointed to the top of her head.”
“Well, apparently Sheila’s smarter than I gave her credit for. It’s the only place you can hit someone and not leave a mark. Did you record it?”
The waitress came over with a tray full of drinks and placed a mug of frosty beer in front of Tracey. “Of course,” Tracey said when she was gone. “Okay, enough about work. Let’s talk about something else, something happy.”
“I got accepted.”
“Accepted for what?”
“I got a letter today. From the university.”
Her eyes widened as my words finally sank in. “You—oh, my God!” She squealed in excitement. “I’m so happy for you. Dinner’s on me tonight.”
We chatted over crispy, beer-battered fish and chips, purposely talking about everything except Tranquility. We sat back as the waitress cleared away our dishes, holding our stomachs and laughing when she offered dessert.
“Another bite and I’ll probably explode,” Tracey groaned, “but I’ll have another Guinness.”
The waitress looked at me.
“Just water, please.” I watched Tracey finish off the last of the dark beer in her glass. “I don’t know how you drink that stuff on a full stomach.”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and belched. “S’cuse me,” she said, giggling. “I make room for it.”
I shook my head at her and laughed. She was incorrigible. Her bubbly, open personality attracted attention and made her approachable. Her wavy red hair, ivory skin and curvy figure made her sexy. Men had been shooting looks in her direction since we’d come in. She seemed oblivious to it, which only added to her charm.
“Oh, shit,” she said.
So much for charm, I mused. “What’s wrong?” I followed her gaze to the door.
Jay stood there, looking around the crowded room, but hadn’t yet spotted us at our booth in the corner.
I leaned across the table. “What is he doing here?”
“I uh…might have invited him.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Pardon? When did this happen?”
My reaction was clearly not what she’d hoped for. She managed to look slightly remorseful. “This afternoon. I saw him when I was leaving work. We talked and…it just kind of happened. You know me, I always say too much. Before I knew it, I invited him.”
“How did you know who he was? Have you ever even seen him before?”
“Duh. How could I not know? Look at him.”
I glanced at Jay. He unbuttoned his coat as he scanned the room. She had a point.
“Anyway,” she continued, “remember last Sunday when you were off? He came in with Lloyd when he brought Georgia back and I met them outside her room.”
I tore my eyes away from him and leaned across the table. “Well, you could have at least told me.”
“Sorry. I meant to. I kind of forgot. Besides, we said we had to do something, remember?”
He’d spotted us and was walking toward the booth. “No, we didn’t. You did,” I said quickly.
Tracey looked up and smiled innocently at Jay as he drew near. He avoided eye contact and played nervously with the keys in his hand. It was the first time I’d ever seen him look uneasy. I’d found his confidence attractive, but this nervous, awkward side of him was endearing.
He approached the table hesitantly.
Tracey smiled brightly. “Hey, Jay. You’re just in time. Sarah got accepted to nursing school. You can help us celebrate. Have a seat.” She gestured toward the length of empty bench beside me.
I gave her a look, but moved over to make room. When Jay didn’t sit, I looked up at him questioningly.
He gave me a meaningful look and said quietly, “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”
He looked so serious and sounded genuinely concerned. I felt a strange pressure in my chest. I’d practically eaten him up with my eyes the first time we’d met. He’d felt the attraction and acted on it, only to be met with cold rejection. The fact that he was there, trying again, said a lot.
I smiled and patted the seat beside me. “I’m sure.”
Chapter 15 - When Disaster Strikes
I WENT TO WORK THE NEXT morning feeling tired, but happy. I’d stayed out later than planned. A band had come on shortly after Jay joined us and the noise level had gone up a few notches. They played upbeat, toe-tapping, pub-appropriate music from bands like The Fables and Great Big Sea. One of Tracey’s many admirers had finally found the nerve to ask her to dance.
Jay and I left her tearing up the small dance floor and went to a quiet café down the street where we talked over coffee until the waiter began putting chairs up on the tables around us.
I could still feel the warmth of his lips where they’d brushed my cheek before I got in my car to go home, and was distracted all morning thinking about that kiss. I forgot to unlock Edie’s wardrobe and she had to come out into the hall in her nightgown to find me. I put Mrs. Sellers’ sweater on backwards and had to dress the poor woman’s top half twice. The whole morning was filled with one little blunder after another.
I blamed it on lack of sleep, but Edie wasn’t fooled. “What’s the young man’s name?” she asked as we went into the dining room for lunch.
“I have no time for men, Edie.”
She snorted in disbelief and went to take her seat.
Tracey was worse off than I was. She said she’d taken a cab home at midnight, but the three or four beers she’d consumed had left her a little groggy. For once I was glad I was working on a Saturday. At least the workload was a little lighter with a few of the residents out with their families.
Despite feeling tired and a little out of sorts, I was happier than I’d been in a long time. It wasn’t only because of Jay. Being out with Tracey had also made me realize how right my mom was. I needed to get out more. And I needed a friend like Tracey to remind me that I was still young.
Life was good. I had a friend for the first time in a long time. The prospect of a romantic relationship was on the horizon. All my plans for school and the future were falling into place.
* * *
I was helping people with toileting and mouth care shortly after lunch. I sent Albert into the bathroom and stood outside reminding him of what to do. “Rinse your mouth, Albert. That’s good
. You can put your toothbrush away now…in the toothbrush holder on the counter in front of you. Now, do you need to use the toilet? No, Albert, I don’t need to see it. Turn around, please.”
Emily, the nurse on duty that day, poked her head around the corner. “Sarah, your mom called. She said it was important and to call her back on her cell as soon as you can.”
I instructed Albert to wash his hands and hurried to the nurse’s station. I tried not to think of what could be wrong.
The last time my mom had called me at work was a year ago, when Kayla had fallen and split her lip open. She must be out, I thought, otherwise she would have had me call the home phone. I picked up the phone and punched in the number.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” I asked as soon as she answered.
“Sarah,” she sobbed. “I’m at the hospital. Gran’s had another stroke—a bad one.”
“Oh, my God. Where’s Kayla?”
“I left her next door with Mrs. Curtis. Is that okay?”
“It’s fine, Mom. I just have to let the nurse know I’m leaving. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I found Emily in the supply room stocking her cart, quickly explained what had happened, then hurried to the change room to get my things. I saw Tracey on my way there and told her as well.
Her face fell. “Shit. I hope she’s okay. Call me if you need anything.”
I waved my thanks and continued into the change room. The lock slipped through my fingers and clattered loudly to the floor when I opened my locker and I realized my hands were shaking. Resting my head against my locker, I took a deep breath. Gran’s okay. Mom needs you. Calm down. I took another deep, steadying breath, grabbed what I needed, and left the room.
Edie was in the main hall, sitting in a quiet corner reading, when I rushed through with my coat and purse. She glanced at her watch then back at me in surprise. I gave her a quick wave. I could tell by the look on her face that she knew something was wrong, but I didn’t stop. I knew Tracey would fill her in for me.
I nearly ran to the car, slipping and sliding on the snow-covered pavement. Panic set in again as I imagined all the things that might have happened. My fingers fumbled to insert the key in the ignition and I swore under my breath in frustration. Finally, I started the car and drove too quickly out of the parking lot, fishtailing as the old tires spun on ice.
Somehow, after a close call with a red light, I made it to the hospital and found Mom sitting in the ER waiting area. It was packed, but Gran would have been rushed through right away. Mom started crying when she saw me. I sat down on the hard plastic chair beside her, put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
I looked around the room. It was as cold and impersonal as the nurse who sat at the triage desk assessing people with brisk efficiency. The walls were the same dingy white as the dirty snow banks that lined the streets. One of the fluorescent ceiling lights buzzed and flickered annoyingly overhead.
Beside us, a young couple fussed over their baby. She was wrapped in a pink blanket and cradled in her father’s arms. I could hear the wheeze of her tiny lungs as she struggled to breathe.
The man sitting across from us had a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his right index finger. His hand rested carefully on his lap atop a bloody towel. His weathered face was lined with dirt. Bits of sawdust stuck to his hair and his plaid, flannel shirt.
I’d been here with Gran after her last stroke. The people were different, but the faces always had the same look of weary resignation.
Mom sat up and fished a tissue from her purse. She wiped the tears from her blotchy face and blew her nose. I slouched in my chair and rested my head on her shoulder.
I was startled awake by loud voices and a sudden gust of cold air. I lifted my head and rubbed the stiffness from my neck as I watched paramedics rush by with a man on a gurney. They wheeled him straight past triage, through the sliding doors, into the ER.
The man with the bloody finger sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Judging from the glum look on his face, he knew he’d been bumped further down the waiting list. The couple with the baby was gone. I assumed they’d been called in while I was dozing.
The doors opened. “Brenda Scott?”
Mom stood, gathered her purse and coat with trembling hands, and we followed the nurse as she led us through a maze of corridors and sliding doors and left us in a small waiting room. I sat in a big, comfortable armchair facing the TV and looked around the room. We were the only ones there. Mom sat across from me on a loveseat. She played nervously with her wedding ring, turning it round and round on her finger.
Dr. Chang, the neurologist, came in a few minutes later to talk to us about Gran’s condition. She’d suffered a massive stroke caused by a blood clot in the brain. They’d done a CT scan, an EKG and administered a clot-dissolving medication. Gran was breathing on her own, but had not woken since having the stroke.
Mom sat unmoving while Dr. Chang spoke, her back rigid, hands clasped tightly in her lap, but the moment he walked out the door, her face crumpled and she collapsed into herself, sobbing. I sat beside her, put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Tears eluded me. A ball of painful emotion burned in my chest, it pushed into my throat, choking me, but there was no release. I’d spent the past ten years holding back tears, pushing emotions deep inside so I could be the strong one. Now, more than ever, Mom needed me to be strong.
We were taken to her room in ICU an hour later. Mom went straight to Gran’s side, took her hand and began sobbing softly. I stood behind her. There was nothing I could say that would console her, so I rubbed her back gently.
Gran looked weak and helpless and so much older. After the last stroke, she’d been awake by the time we saw her, and had even managed a lopsided smile. Within days, she’d been up walking with assistance and talking, though her speech had been slurred. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me this time was different.
I gave Mom’s shoulder a squeeze and walked around to the other side of the bed. I pushed a stray wisp of hair back from Gran’s forehead. “When did it happen?”
Mom grabbed a tissue from a box on the table beside the bed. She wiped her eyes and took a long, shuddering breath. “I don’t know. You know she likes to sleep late sometimes, so I didn’t think anything of it when she didn’t come down for breakfast. I tried to wake her about an hour later, but she—Oh, God, Sarah, I should have known something was wrong. I should have checked on her sooner.” She pressed her hand to her mouth and began to cry again.
I reached across Gran and took Mom’s hand. “You couldn’t have known. She’s strong. She got through it last time, she can again.” I wished I felt as confident as I sounded.
I left a few minutes later to go home. Mrs. Curtis, a sweet lady who’d lived across the street since I was a little girl, had been watching Kayla for hours and I was sure her ears needed a break. She loved Kayla and said she enjoyed the company, but there’s only so much constant chatter a person can take.
I filled Mrs. Curtis in on Gran’s condition and thanked her for helping out. Kayla and I crossed the street hand in hand. I was trying to find a way to tell her about Gran when she asked, “Did you see Gran, Mommy?”
“I did.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“No, munchkin. She was sleeping. She needs to rest so her body can heal.”
“Nana was crying when she took me to Mrs. Curtis’s house. It scared me,” Kayla said as I unlocked the door and we went inside.
I picked her up. She wrapped her tiny arms around my neck and buried her face against me. “It scared me too,” I said, giving her a big squeeze before I put her down. “Nana’s upset, but she’ll be fine, and the doctors and nurses are taking good care of Gran.”
I left Kayla in the living room watching TV, and went upstairs to have a quick shower. When I came back down, she was kneeling at the coffee table, coloring, with a look of intense concentration on her face.
I walked over and cro
uched down beside her to look at the picture. The top half of the paper was blue with a bright yellow happy face sun and one white cloud. The bottom half was green with a white sidewalk through the middle where two people walked hand in hand. I pointed at the smaller figure with short, dark hair. “Is this you?”
She nodded and bit her lip as she continued to color the grass green with slow, deliberate strokes.
I pointed to the taller figure with dark hair and bright red lips and fingernails. “And this must be Gran.”
Kayla finished coloring, put the crayon down and studied the picture in silence.
“It’s a nice picture. Is it for Gran?”
She nodded again.
“Are you worried about her?”
She looked up at me. Her eyes shone with tears and her bottom lip trembled when she spoke. “I heard Mrs. Curtis talking on the phone. She said it wasn’t good that Gran had two strokes and she might not sur-sur-”
“Survive?”
“She might not survive another one. That’s what she said. What did she mean, Mommy?”
I moved to the couch, sat down and patted the seat beside me. Kayla climbed up, wiggled her bum back into the seat and looked at me expectantly.
“She means it’s going to be harder for Gran to get better this time because her body’s still weak from the last stroke.” I placed a finger under her chin and smiled. “You know what Gran would tell us right now if she were here?”
“To keep our chins up?”
“Right. And not to worry, because worrying won’t change a thing.” I smiled reassuringly and pulled Kayla in for a hug. “The doctors and nurses are doing everything they can to help Gran get better, so I don’t want you worrying, okay?” It was too bad I couldn’t take my own advice.
I called into work and told them I wouldn’t be in for the next couple of days. Mom and I took turns staying with Gran at the hospital and being home with Kayla.
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