Scotia's Grave

by T L Harty

  “The doctor said that an injury of this nature requires a powerful impact or trauma. From what you told me, no such event occurred.”

  I shook my head slowly back and forth, searching my memory for anything out of the ordinary, something that had been forgotten.

  “Can I see him?”

  “It’s not a good idea. Bruce had to be put under general anesthesia when the doctor manipulated his…er, when the doctor realigned the…when he fixed it,” she finished, uncomfortably. “He’s resting and probably won’t be conscious until later.”

  “Your baby is responsible for this injury,” Bridget told me again. “It’s a defense mechanism she employs when she’s trying to protect you. It’s completely normal.”

  “But I wasn’t in any danger!” I said, with a look of disbelief plastered all over my face.

  “Your child is not yet able to differentiate danger from pain,” Bridget explained. “She only knew that Bruce’s words upset you. She fixed it so you were no longer being hurt.”

  “So this will keep happening?”

  “No. Your child is learning,” Bridget said. “Once she felt how upset you were with Bruce’s suffering, she understands now that his pain brings you sadness and worry. She probably won’t hurt him again.”

  “Probably?”

  “Well, you know how us women can be,” Bridget stated, with a wink.

  She disappeared down the hall, most likely going to check on Bruce. Her last remark hung in the air and did little to ease my concerns. There were voices traveling through the hallways and I wasn’t in the mood for company, given the events of the morning.

  The stairway, on the other side of the kitchen, delivered me to my room without anyone noticing. I lay on my bed, wishing that Deidra and I could have a conversation about the baby sister she never wanted.

  There was a knock at the door. “Come in.” Deidra walked in the room. “I was hoping you would come by,” I said.

  “I know, Mom.”

  Patting the bed next to me was a signal of sorts for Deidra. It had always been an invitation to chat. She smiled, lying down on the bed next to me.

  “So, I’m just going to come out and tell you…” I started.

  “That you’re having a baby with Bruce and I’m going to be a big sister,” Deidra interrupted.

  “And you’ve known all along?” She nodded. “You’re not mad?” I asked.

  “I’m mad you didn’t tell me until now,” Deidra confessed. “You can’t really hide things from me. You do know that, right?”

  “Maybe I don’t,” I said. “I suppressed visions of my mom so much that I’m not sure how much you’re able to see. Is it everything I do?”

  “No,” she answered. “I have to suppress things too. A while ago, when you asked Bruce to frisk you- everything after that, I was able to block. Thank God!” She shivered, as though the mere thought was horrendous to her.

  “Wait until you get a little older. You’ll understand.”

  “Really? You’d like to see your mom seducing a man? That seems like it’d be fun for you?”

  I immediately understood her point.

  Chapter 3- The Plan

  I awoke at 6 a.m. the next day. Even with all that sleep under my belt, my head remained a little fuzzy.

  Grammy could be heard flitting around in the kitchen. It was unlikely she took extra precautions to keep quiet while I slept. Why change now? Besides, the “aspirin” she gave me could probably tranquilize a large animal.

  I sat up on the living room couch to take inventory. The bandages were still adhering to my arms. Grammy must have put fresh ice on my ankle this morning. Luckily, the swelling had gone down quite a bit from yesterday. The test would be to put a little weight on it. I scooted sideways to lower my feet to the ground and stood up. It was tender, but still usable. The walking stick that Gramps had masterfully carved, leaned on the couch, and with that; I hobbled into the kitchen quite easily.

  “Well, look at you, sleeping beauty,” Grammy said, excited to see me walking around.

  “It doesn’t hurt that bad at all,” I explained. “Although maybe the medicine you gave me is still working.”

  “Oh, no, that has worn off by now,” she informed me.

  The morning hours were uneventful. We spent our time reading, playing cards and snacking. Grammy changed the bandages on my arm. The cuts seemed to already be healing. The human body never ceases to amaze. Interesting how thoughts like that didn’t cross my mind yesterday. As far as I was concerned, today marked the start of a new life. A do-over. A second chance. I still had no idea what the years ahead would contain, but there would be gratitude amid the ignorance.

  Grammy had to go into work at 3 p.m. for a swing shift and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Gramps would let me go down to the lake tonight if I promised a quick return, but Grammy wouldn’t fathom me leaving the house…or allow it. Returning to the lake, where the injuries occurred, would be out of the question. In the eyes of the law, I should be able to make my own decisions. However, Grammy would not have been impressed with that reasoning.

  A couple of hours after she left for work, I covered the bandages on my forearms with plastic wrap, taping them into place. After a quick shower, I stepped gingerly out of the shower and onto the bath mat. The pain in my foot wasn’t too bad, but it would need to be wrapped up. Having this ankle injury would play into my plan perfectly.

  Picking an outfit for tonight would prove tricky. Gramps preferred the covered-from-head-to-toe look. However, Grant, Travis and Corey would need a little more to go on or else this scheme of mine had no chance of working. I put on a black, flared skirt and a plaid, black and red shirt. The long-sleeved, collared shirt covered up the injuries on my arms. For now, the collared shirt buttoned up all the way to the top, except for one button. My high-top Chucky-T’s were the last option for shoes. The other pair I packed for my visit was part of the suicide attempt yesterday, so they were in no condition to wear. After looking over the outfit, Gramps wouldn’t be able to object. The skirt hit right above my knees and the shirt screamed modesty. I dried my hair and put on some make-up.

  Grabbing a bite before tonight’s caper would be wise, and a sandwich sounded fairly quick and easy. Gramps would have made me one, but he remained outside, finishing up his chores for the evening. I made a sandwich for both Gramps and I, but left his on the counter. After filling up a bag of ice for my ankle, the trek to the living room was next. The evening news would be on soon, and Gramps never missed the 6 o’clock news.

  When Gramps came through the back door to the kitchen, I loudly said, “Hey, Gramps. There’s a sandwich for you on the counter if you want it. The news is going to start in five minutes.”

  “O.K.,” he responded. The water started running and even though I couldn’t see him washing up- the ritual had been witnessed so many times before that it felt like I could. He quickly made his way to his chair and directed his attention to the program.

  When the commercial break started, he glanced in my direction and did a double-take. He saw that my attire did not include sweats. This concerned him.

  “Why are you all dressed up?” he finally asked.

  “I’m not really that dressed up, Gramps,” I giggled. “I just look a whole lot better than I did yesterday or this morning. I’m going to return the sweatshirt I borrowed yesterday. It will only take a couple minutes and I won’t be gone long.”

  “Your grandmother wouldn’t be happy if she knew I let you go out tonight,” he concluded.

  “It’ll be our little secret,” I said, winking at him. We had been winking at each other for years when we were trying to outfox Grammy, which was no easy task. Had it not been for some amazing teamwork, Gramps and I would’ve been no match for Grammy, even on her worst day.

  He obviously wasn’t happy with my decision to leave tonight. “I can drive you,” he suggested.

  “Thanks, Gramps, but don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl,” I as
sured him.

  To that statement, he snorted in disagreement.

  Once the news ended, I retrieved the sweatshirt, my purse and walking stick for the night’s adventures. Arrival at the lake would be around 7:30, an ideal time to set my plan in motion. A couple things needed to be accomplished before Corey showed up.

  The dogs barely lifted their heads during my departure. They had taken to sleeping a lot in their old age…retired from chasing critters and most barking activities.

  Arriving at the lake, I parked the car close to the dock to limit excess walking. The picturesque scene through my windshield, required a few minutes of my attention. The stars reflected off the water and the light breeze coming through my window awakened my senses.

  Before exiting the car, there were modifications to my outfit that needed to be made. Unbuttoning my shirt revealed a black, tight, tank top underneath. A large amount of cleavage didn’t need to be introduced…just enough to garner some attention. I ran my fingers through my light-brown strands of hair that fell a little past my shoulders. I retrieved and applied the pink lip gloss kept in my purse.

  Grabbing the bag with the sweatshirt and the walking stick, I got out of the car. The skirt had a thick, elastic waistband. Rolling it over a couple of times brought the skirt a couple of inches above my knees. Thankfully, my ankle was not very sore, but it’d be wise to exaggerate the pain when necessary.

  The path to the restaurant went right past the docks. The slips were not very well lit, but I could see that someone stood on the boat I took yesterday. As I approached, Travis came into view. This was even better than I hoped! Once he saw me walking in his direction, his eyes followed me all the way to the boat.

  “Can I help you, Miss?” he asked, smiling. He didn’t recognize me from yesterday.

  “I came by to apologize for taking your boat yesterday,” I began. His confused expression was priceless. I lowered my head and continued, “I’ve been going through a lot and taking the boat was one of many poor choices I’ve made lately. Can you forgive me?”

  He stood there in the boat, still visibly shocked. “Um, of course I forgive you,” he stammered, as he climbed onto the dock. “I’m sorry you’ve been having such a difficult time. Is there anything I can do?”

  “No. Accepting my apology is very kind of you,” I explained. “That makes me feel better already.” I smiled while he blushed. “Well, I’m going to go to the restaurant because I owe Grant an apology, too.”

  As I turned toward the restaurant, Travis grabbed my wrist to stop me. “You know, Grant can be difficult,” he informed me. “How about I let him know you stopped by to apologize, but couldn’t stay long. Your ankle must be pretty sore.”

  It was adorable how Travis wanted to help me come up with a good excuse not to apologize to Grant in person. He knew Grant could be a miscreant. Travis knew that when Grant saw me, he would want more than an apology. The thing is- I knew that about Grant too. As a matter of fact, I was counting on it.

  “Thank you, but that wouldn’t be right,” I explained. “It’s the right thing to do and I have to make sure he is O.K. with the way his sweatshirt turned out.” I held up the bag.

  “If you insist, but let me go up there with you. Can I buy you a drink after you talk to Grant?” he asked.

  “I’d like that,” I said, and touched his hand, that held my wrist. “Well, here goes nothing.”

  Travis let go of me so I could start walking to the restaurant. Travis politely followed me. After taking a few steps, I exaggerated my limp and said, “Ow!”

  In no time, Travis stood beside me, “Are you O.K.?”

  Leaning on him, I said, “It’s no big deal. My ankle kinda hurts a little.”

  Travis looked up toward the restaurant, which would soon transform into a bar. He looked back at me. “Well, it’s a long way to the restaurant,” he said, looking down the path. “I can carry you.”

  Travis put his arm around my shoulder and started to bend down, when I stopped him. We were looking at each other eye to eye and in such close proximity that I could feel his breath on my face. I asked, “Are you sure you’re strong enough? I’m not that light.”

  He kept his arm around my shoulder and leaned back a little, to look me up and down. “Are you insulting me?” he asked. “I must appear extremely weak if you don’t think I can carry you. Pretty sure we could make it back and forth from the restaurant a few times.”

  There was no time to argue his point because he scooped me up behind my knees, cradling me with each arm. “What is your name again?” he asked. “I’m not in the habit of carrying people around without knowing their names.”

  “That’s an understandable rule,” I agreed. “My name is Muriel…and your name is Travis, right?”

  He seemed impressed that I remembered. He looked down at me and smiled. “Yes that’s my name,” he affirmed. “And perhaps you were right; I may not be strong enough to carry you.”

  When we walked in front of the glass windows to the restaurant, he pretended to let me fall closer to the ground and then brought me back up. I screeched and the people that were still in the restaurant looked in our direction. Thankfully, my legs were facing away from the glass.

  “Very funny,” I said, smiling. “There is no way we’re going to get through the front door. You can put me down now.”

  “If I have to,” he relented. Like a gentleman, he carefully lowered me to the ground, and then opened the door. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he reminded. Travis went to the bar to wait for my return.

  It didn’t take long to spot Grant at a corner booth, snuggling a young woman who wore too much make-up and not enough clothing. I pretended to search the restaurant long enough to make sure he noticed me. It was hard to tell if the woman accompanying him was a local or a woman he whisked away for the weekend. Either way, when I started walking toward him- he took notice.

  “Hi,” I said to both of them. Looking at the girl, I asked, “Can I please talk to Grant alone for a minute?”

  Visibly surprised when I used his name, he began searching his memory banks, trying to remember the conquest.

  “Do I know you?” he asked. “I can’t imagine I would forget such a beauty.” He smiled while tilting his head. When he licked his lips, I was immediately disgusted, but purposely remained friendly.

  The girl sitting by his side didn’t budge, shooting me dirty looks.

  “I came here to apologize and return this,” I said, handing him the bag. “I had no right to take anything that belonged to you.”

  Still confused, he looked in the bag and recognized his sweatshirt.

  “It came out perfectly and there are no stains,” I told him.

  “No way!” Grant bellowed. “You’re not the same person from yesterday! That girl was a troll…a total yeti.” He looked at the girl in the booth with him. They both laughed.

  “O.K., then, I guess we’re finished here,” I resolved, reacting to his rude behavior. I turned around, but felt his eyes follow me across the restaurant to find Travis.

  Travis sat at the counter and asked me what I’d like to drink. “A glass of lemonade sounds delicious,” I decided. I hobbled past Travis and hoisted myself up on the barstool, making sure to be in Grant’s line of vision and vice versa.

  As Travis and I laughed and talked, Grant sat in the corner sulking. Grant’s date nibbled his ear, but he kept a close eye on what Travis and I were doing. At every opportunity, I touched Travis’ arm while we were laughing or used a softer voice so Travis would have to lean closer to hear me.

  Grant was a pig, and the fact that the prettiest girl in the room sat with his friend became too much for his narcissism to handle. He needed to be the center of attention at all times. Grant sauntered to the jukebox, smiling in my direction. He made a selection and the machine cued to the song choice. “I’ve Been Waiting for a Girl Like You,” by Foreigner filled the room. Grant seemed thoroughly pleased with himself, as though this grand gesture wou
ld make me swoon.

  Grant made his way over to where Travis and I were sitting, his smile reminiscent of the Cheshire cat. Grant held out his hand. “A dance so we can put yesterday behind us?” he suggested.

  Travis pushed his arm away. “She sprained her ankle yesterday, Grant. She shouldn’t be dancing.”

  Grant smiled. “We’ll sway, then,” he conceded. “You can stand on my feet and I’ll hold you real close.” He grabbed my hand and led me out to the small dance floor. The restaurant had cleared out in the last fifteen minutes, becoming a bar.

  “So, do you really want me to forgive you?” Grant asked.

  I could smell the alcohol on Grant’s breath. What an altogether revolting man. He held me tightly while one of his hands crept lower down my back. His hand eventually landed on my rear, and I raised it up. This happened twice before I pulled away.

  “If you do that one more time, I’m going to go sit down,” I told him.

  “You owe me,” Grant announced. “And it’s only fair to get what’s due.”

  I looked over at Travis who didn’t seem willing to help me out of this situation. Or maybe he had witnessed Grant’s behavior so many times before that he thought it possible Grant would woo me. Either way, Travis became unattractive in an instant.

  Grant grabbed one of my arms. I resisted. The one good thing about this chain of events was the timing. Corey walked past the window, witnessing Grant’s advances. Corey quickened his pace to get inside. Grant pulled me close, trying to kiss me.

  I yelled, “Stop!”

  Corey stepped between us and threw a right hook that left Grant bloodied and reeling on the dance floor. In my plan, either Travis or Corey would have come to my rescue. The punch was not expected, but it did the trick.

  Corey grabbed both my shoulders, looking fearfully into my eyes. “Are you O.K., Muriel? If anything happened to you…”

  He embraced me like my life had been in danger, stroking my hair as though we were long, lost lovers. I appreciated his quick response, but was taken aback by the passion of his actions. Corey whisked me off of my feet and carried me to my car. He opened the door, placed me in my seat, and put his hand on the side of my face.