Page 55 of Shifted

"Phone," he looks to the floor, grabbing my phone. My head presses against his chest. "I can't feel my legs." A kiss is placed against my forehead as he holds my head against him.

“You're safe." I take staggered breaths as he carries me outside, and moments later, I see the grass below me, “I’m sorry, Hope,” he apologizes for some reason. Then his fingers are shoved down as I attempt to push him back, but I’ve already thrown up all over my jeans. My throat burns, and he rubs my back, “I needed you to get it out, Princess,” he reasons, and I’m lifted as sleep slowly bombards my eyes as I feel his warm hand in mine.

For some reason, my eyelids burn, and my eyes aren’t even open yet. But it’s worse when I do. The light beside me from some lamp almost kills my eyes. When I turned from it, I noticed the floral quilt wrapped around me—it was Grandma’s.

She stood in the corner talking with him, and I could see the tears shedding from her eyes. Then I remembered why I was here, and my heart sank. I was stupid, and I shouldn’t have gone out with Miranda. She probably hadn’t even noticed I’d gone missing.

"Thank you," I hear her whisper. I watched as she pulled him into a hug. I'm in my mother's childhood bedroom, which was slowly cultivated into my own as I stayed here over the years. He looks over at me to see my eyes open.

"Hope," I hear relief in his voice as he approaches me. I feel the tears build. Grandma sits by my legs as he helps me sit up, pressing me against him. "You're okay," he reassures me as Grandma hands me water.

"You need fluids and hydration." Her hand lay against my cheek, and she stood. "I'm going to make you some soup." She steps away from the bed, leaving the two of us alone.

The sound of the waves outside distracted me in our silence. I knew he wasn’t mad; he was just scared if anything. "How long have we been here?" I finally broke the silence as the sky outside was still dark, but the hues of the sun could be seen in the distance.

"It was about an hour's drive to Penny Lane with traffic, and we got here about a half hour ago. I felt this was better than my apartment or your dorm, somewhere you feel safe and comfortable." I scooted aside slowly to make room for him on the bed beside me.

"Are you sure?" I needed his comfort now more than ever. So I nodded, and he sat beside me.

"I feel like an idiot. I was just watching Miranda. Then I went to the bathroom and left my drink behind, not even thinking," I collected my face in my hands and blamed myself for being so careless.

"You're not an idiot, far from it. I'm glad you called me, and I got there. I'm always here for you, Hope, whenever and wherever. You are most definitely not an idiot, especially calling me." A kiss is placed on my cheek as he tucks my head into the crook of his head. Grandma walks back in with a bowl of her chicken tomato soup. She squeezes my hand.

"I'm glad you're here and safe, and I think you should reevaluate your friendship. I don’t think Miranda is a good influence." Grandma says. But it was just one night, and it’s not her fault. She couldn’t have known that was going to happen to me.

“It’s not her fault, Grandma,” I excuse.

"It's been hours since you've disappeared; she hasn't even called. She's a mental fire alarm, dear. Distance yourself, okay?" My stomach felt unsettled as I knew she was right. I nod, and she brushes a hair back from my face. "You're one lucky girl; it's not that you need a man, but that you found one like him." She smiled at him gratefully, "There's more soup on the stove if you want some," She offered and stood exiting the room.

?

Two years later

She sat there, staring at me, stunned, putting her hand to her mouth, unsure of what to say. She looked around the room and then back at me. I didn’t know what her reaction would be, and I still didn’t even know how to process it myself.

"What about law School?" Grandma asks.

"I'm still going,” I wasn’t letting that dream die. This would just be a part of the journey.

"You have options, you know." She squeezed my hand in support, and I shook my head. I had known what I wanted and had since the second the two lines appeared on the stick. Just because things got complicated didn’t mean my goals were out of reach. I just had bigger responsibilities than I did before now.

"I know, but I want to keep it," I say, knowing she’s avoiding the question she's dying to ask. Grandma doesn't like to ask the hard questions because they usually hurt the most. But this time, it wasn’t something that would be hurting her, but hurting me by the absence in the room.

"And him?" She questions gently as I feel the tears build as I shake my head. Strength was something she’d shown me growing up, and taught me how to keep my guard up. But now, at this moment, I couldn’t be as strong as I was. Because the man I love is gone, and I’m left with his child.

"He's not coming around." Shock breaks through her face for a moment, and she tries to keep it together, but I watch it happen. My grandmother's own heart breaking for me. She knew how much love I held for him. I'm pulled into her arms and crushed against her chest as I cry, "Why do all the bad things happen to me, Grandma?" Her hand collects my face as she shakes her head.

"Don’t say that,” she soothes. “The seemingly bad things are sometimes hidden gifts, dear. You needed this baby to be the mother yours never was, and you loved that baby's father. That’s something to carry with you, not the pain, the love. You get the good of him to keep." She rooted for us. For years, she watched as I loved him and told us both how she’d love to be there for the wedding. But fairytales are just dreams, and as I’ve learned, they don’t come true.

"I didn't disappoint you, right, Grandma?" Her head shakes immediately, and she almost looks insulted.

"You could never disappoint me. The disappointment of my life is my daughter and her choices. But I got you out of that, and you're the biggest blessing of my life. You and Aunt Missy." Her youngest daughter, she'd died of an unexpected illness as a teenager. She was my mom's baby sister. My Grandma talks about her loosely, and I knew it was because the loss of her own child hurt. To watch her living daughter throw her own away was even worse.

Her picture still stays on the walls, and her room across the hall is untouched and remains the same way she left it the day she died. Grandma doesn't allow anyone to move or touch things, as if she'd return home one day.

"I can do this alone,” I say the words aloud, trying to convince myself that I could do this and that I didn’t need him, no matter how badly I wanted him.

“You’re never doing this alone. You’ve got me.” She assures.

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