Page 30 of Always Be an Us

And that was when I cried my heart out into his chest, enfolded in his slender arms. I cried so hard that I fell asleep, and he carried me home. I cried for the entire funeral and weeks after.

But eventually, the crying dwindled and life began again. One thing that helped me with my grief was Grandpa. Taking me fishing and telling me stories about his time working in the hotel.

He would tell me stories about my parents too, even when he cried while doing it. He refused to let the past become taboo or bitter, instead, sharing stories of laughter and love, allowing my memories of them to be colored by only the good.

He would even share stories of the hotel.

It was odd that the thing that killed them became an object of fascination to me. At first, I had conflicting emotions regarding the Pink Hotel.

I made my Grandpa take me there nearly every day after the fire, and when we went, I would either cry my eyes out or laugh hysterically listening to the stories he would tell.

Stories about the supposed ghosts haunting the Pink Hotel made me think that just maybe my parents were still hanging around watching me and so were especially fascinating.

Maybe they were ghosts too, and if I could unlock the secret behind the hotel, then I could talk to them.

It was bittersweet, but it was something that got me through a particularly dark time of my life.

And now I can only look at the hotel with fondness and respect, as my parent’s final resting place, a home where their souls may still remain.

My obsession with the Pink Hotel was why I spent days poring over Madam Thornley’s diary And though I eventually grew out of it, I will always remember those weeks spent with Grandpa after my parent's death with a bittersweet fondness.

And now as I’m watching him in bed it occurs to me that I could be losing Grandpa too.

I reach out to grasp his hand, gently pressing my forehead against it.

Please, I beg silently.Please don’t leave me too.

I stay there praying for a miracle, as tears roll down my cheeks once more, staining the white sheets underneath me. I pray and cry until I eventually slip into a dreamless sleep.

It's near dusk outside when I awaken. I must have slept the afternoon away.

I rise and to head for the front desk. Might as well see how much damage we’ve caused and how much the surgery is going to cost too.

I trudge out feeling drained. I smack my lips. Not a pleasant sensation. My mouth feels like I was sucking on mothballs the entire night. I stop for a second by the dispenser at the end of the hall fetching some water with a paper cup and drinking it. I gargle the first sip before spitting it in the trash and then swallow the second gulp.

Hopefully, my breath doesn’t stink.

I head to the nurse's desk, where the four nurses alternate between communicating with each other and typing on their computers. I wait, not wanting to interrupt. Finally, I catch the eye of a middle-aged woman with a mop of strawberry blonde curls.

"Um, excuse me," I start, and she gives me a sympathetic look.

"Hey sweetie, how are you holding up? How’s your grandfather?"

"He’s doing better thanks," I say, clearing my rough voice.

"We’re sorry about what he’s going through," another younger dark-haired nurse declares. "I see him sometimes when he comes to bridge with my grandma. We're all devastated to hear the news."

I nod. I’m not surprised. Grandpa is known and loved by a bunch of people in town.

"Hopefully, he'll be fine," I offer her a weak smile and then get to what I came here for. "I wanted to know, um, about the bill?"

"Oh don’t worry about it," the blonde nurse says. "Your boyfriend already settled it."

"My...boyfriend?"

"Yeah. The tall, handsome fella who walked up looking like a movie star.

I gotta tell you honey you really scored a home run with that one. He looks delicious with all that dark hair and eyes and that body...yum."

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