Page 12 of Paved Paradise

Beck

I rub my eyes, trying to keep them open as I look at my baby sister, so small, so pale, in the hospital bed that’s three sizes too big for her small, frail body. I’ve been sitting here all night at her bedside, hoping she would wake up. She had another episode yesterday, and I got the call as the ambulance was pulling away with my sister. I called out of work for the rest of the week and rushed over to the hospital immediately. Luckily, my work is pretty chill with issues concerning my sister, one of the major perks of the job.

Mom and Dad were also here all day yesterday, but I could tell Mom was exhausted around three this morning. Dad and I finally talked her into heading home for a few hours to sleep. I told her I would stay by Gracie's side until she got back, but it wasn't a hard promise to keep. We’ve all been here before, though we all secretly hoped we would never have to deal with this again.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, probably for the hundredth time, but the screen still doesn't light up. My battery died sometime last night, and I’ve been itching to find a charger and contact Frankie. I’m hoping she's been stuck in her design studio with Al and then so tired from the day she crashed last night. I need a couple hours of sleep, and then, hopefully, I can spend a few hours just soaking in my Schnookums before coming back and doing another round with Grace. Luckily, they seem to have the seizures under control now, but it was so scary there for a minute.

So many times in the last ten years, we’ve had scares like this. Will Grace be strong enough to pull through each time? It is a miserable way to look at life, but unfortunately, it is our reality. If I could lend her every bit of strength I have in my body, I would have done it the day they diagnosed her. Luckily, our Gracie is strong as hell, our little fighter, but I know she's getting tired of fighting. Just as my thoughts turn dark, there's a bustle at the door, and in walks my mom.

“Hey, Ma, get some rest?” I ask, getting out of the chair placed beside Grace's bed. I give her too cold hand a kiss before making my way over to my mom. I grab the couple of bags she has in her hands and walk them over to the small table in the back.

“Not much, baby, but thank you for the help. I brought your charger for you; it's in the small bag. I figured it might be dead when I tried to call, but it went straight to voicemail,” she says, exhaustion and anxiety laced in her every word.

“Thanks, Ma,” I say, pulling the charger out and placing my phone on it. Then I turn and walk over to my mom and pull her into my arms. I hold her there for a minute and realize her shoulders are softly shaking.

“It’s going to be okay, mama. I promise,” I whisper to her. It brings tears to my eyes, but I can't break, not in front of her. I just don't understand why it had to be Gracie and not me. She’s always been the better of the two of us. She’s the best person I know and doesn't deserve this. Just as my mom starts to speak, the door opens, and the doctor walks in. My mom pulls herself together quickly, wiping her eyes and clearing her voice before turning toward him.

“Look, I’m not trying to be rude here, but I need you to tell me there's something you can do for her. There has to be some kind of treatment, medication, hell I’ll take a village witch at this point if it will give my daughter some peace.” I can feel the frustration in my mom’s voice and feel the same way. Doctor Wright clears his throat and actually gives us a small smile. That has to be good news.

“Actually, I was just coming in to tell you there is a new trial drug that we could get her on if you wanted to try it out,” he says, handing my mom a pamphlet with the name of some new miracle drug, they never seem to work though or maybe at this point I'm just too cynical. “I think it would be an option to look into. We can start with a small dosage to ensure it has no ill effects. Then, from there, we can adjust as we need to.”

I look at the pamphlet, then at my mom, and I already know her answer. Still, she flips through and asks multiple questions about the statistics and side effects. Through it all, Doctor Wright stays patient and kind, which makes a world of difference.

“I’ll show this to my husband. He went to grab us some coffee but should be up any minute. I’m sure his answer will also be a yes, but I can’t make this decision without him,” she tells him.

I look over at Grace and realize her eyes are slightly open. Walking over to her, I put on my brightest fake smile. One I’ve become all too accustomed to.

“Hey there, Ladybug. How are you doing, kid?” I ask, brushing my hand across her forehead.

“Sleepy,” she mumbles, blinking rapidly, “I-I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t. We aren’t doing that, remember? We’re blessed to have you, not sorry!” I tell her adamantly. She nods, and once again, her eyes close, and she falls back asleep. I turn to see my mom staring at us with tears in her eyes and the doctor gone.

“She’s going to be just fine,” Mom says with a decisive nod.

“I know she will,” I say before standing and walking over to my phone. I get it turned back on, and the minute it lights up, it starts going crazy.

“What the hell?” my brows pinch down in confusion as my phone is flooded with calls from a number my phone doesn't recognize. I see the voicemail message pop up and click it. When I place the phone to my ear and hear the panic and fear in Frankie’s voice, my knees give out.

“No, no, no, no, no,” I repeat over and over again as I dial Frankie's number repeatedly. It's going straight to voicemail. This can't be fucking happening. I could hear it in her voice. She expected me to be there… and I let her down. I’ve fucked up, even if it wasn't my intention. Frankie has been skittish since day one, and this might have been the excuse she needed to skip out. I know she’s scared of getting hurt. I was just too damn confident to think I could do it all, be her all.

“What’s going on, honey?” my mom asks, placing her hand on my shoulder.

“It’s Frankie. She’s the girl I told you about.”

“Oh, the girl Gracie tells me you're smitten with.” She chuckles, and I let my head fall to my chest.

“She’s been all alone, mom, treated so horribly and just tossed away over and over. Growing up in foster care, no one seemed to give her the time of day. I don't understand how, she’s the most magnificent person I’ve ever met. She’s fought so hard, bought her own van, she designs clothes, mom, she's just… everything.”

“And?” she asks, confused.

“And I think I might have just fu-, uh screwed everything up. I just got a voicemail. She’s in jail. They are blaming her for something she didn't do. I was supposed to be there for her, and instead, I let my damn phone die,” I say, running my hand roughly through my hair.

“Baby, life happens every day, and none of us can predict it. Seems to me this is all just some big jumble of mess but nothing you cant untangle. Now, if this girl is everything you say she is, then I’m sure she was just absolutely terrified and not knowing how to react. We foster kids have a tendency to close ourselves off.”

“I forgot you were in foster care until you aged out. Of course, you would know what she's going through.” I look up at her with a small flicker of hope building inside my chest.

“It’s not an easy life, baby, and it takes a strong man to break down those reinforced walls. If she's anything like I was when I got out, you have a long, hard road ahead of you. She’s going to shut you out because she wants to protect herself. It's second nature to her.”

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