Page 7 of Anders and the Girl Worth Fighting For
Grey’s face swam before my eyes.
“Stay with me.”
A copter circled overhead.
“We’ve got you. Major Moron’s pissed that he had to be pulled from his beauty rest for this. Stay with me so you can takeyour punishment like a man.”
The chopper got louder, distorting Grey’s voice.
“The kids?” I dragged the rough words out of me, sapping every bit of energy I had left with them.
“The kids are fine. Tink’s got them. Thinking about changing his name to Mary Poppins. He’s got them eating out of his hands.”
Sure enough, Tink had the kids lined up and waiting. Duke held the hand of the smallest child while a doll brushed the ground beside them. It was the last thing I saw before the blackness that had been creeping at the edges of my vision took over and I succumbed to the dark.
Chapter Three
Why are you wearing pink?” My mother asked when I walked into the front door of my grandma’s house for the first time in almost twenty years. The familiar smell of cinnamon and clove was gone, replaced by the cloying chemical scent of hospitals and death. “Did you not have something better to wear? I could have taken you shopping to find something that would work. This is really just too much. Did Bill not see you before you left? Oh, here he is now. Nowheknows how to dress for a funeral. You really should take his lead.” She hadn’t stopped for a breath or an answer in all that.
“Hello, mother,” I said. My shoulder inched towards my ears with every word she said as I moved to stand next to her at the base of the grand staircase, accepting my role in the family and preparing to greet people as they came in.
“Well, no matter. Good thing I thought to bring you something. It’s in the green room. Go change real quick.” She pushed me up the stairs before turning back to Bill.
I climbed up to the room I always stayed in when I would visit Grandma, though I don’t think my mother even knew that, clinging to the handrail as I ascended the stairs. I could barely see through the blackness that creeped in on the edges of my vision.
I drug air into my lungs when my head throbbed, blur replacing blackness as tears formed in my eyes.
I forced myself to keep breathing, in and out, as I climbed the stairs, keeping myself together until I got to the green room before crumpling against the door just inside the room. Tight bands wrapped around my chest. Years of regret and loneliness snaked around me, coiling tight and stealing all the air from my lungs. Longing for a simpler time, with cookies and crafts, and the cinnamon and cloves smell that always lingered around my grandma.
I made my way to the bathroom and sank to the cool marble floor, pressing my cheek to it. The effect was soothing and my breathing slowed, so did my thoughts as I focused on the cold, hard floor. The temperature was a shock to my system and something other than panic for my brain to focus on.
Slowly, I sat up, the spinning in my head downgraded from nauseating to mildly annoying, and I leaned up against the wall. I closed my eyes and just focused on the cool marble, the solid wall.
My imagination conjured her smell, that cinnamon and cloves I loved so much as I sat there and for just a moment, Grandma was right there with me, resurrected from her grave just to comfort me.
“There you go, sweetheart. Just breathe,” I imagined her saying to me. “That mother of yours is a fool.” She was never afraid to say what she was thinking.
“I miss you so much,” I said to the empty room. My voice echoed off all the marble and porcelain. It was all I could say to the memory of her. It was all I could think.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, just trying to breathe, imagining her sitting next to me, drawing comfort from her memory, and feeling more at peace than I had in a long time.
“I don’t know what to do anymore,” I said to her. “It’s like nothing I do is right. Nothing is good enough. It was silly of me to wear this dress and not something black. I don’t know whatI was thinking.” The fear and anxiety I always carried around eased the more I talked to her.
A glittering light on the counter caught my attention and drew me in, reminding of where I was and what I needed to do. I couldn’t put it off any longer. I stood to take stock of the mess I had become. My eyes were red and puffy. My head hurt and despite my lack of makeup, I could see faint traces of tear tracks running down my pale cheeks. God, I was a mess.
I wasn’t sure how long I stood there before a knock sounded at the bedroom door, pulling me back to reality. I quickly cleared my throat and wiped my cheeks. I didn’t even get to open my mouth to ask who it was before Bill pushed into the room.
“Just checking to see what’s taking so long,” he said as he entered uninvited, oblivious as always to my pain. “Oh, you still aren’t dressed. Really, Grace, everyone is waiting for you. Does the dress not fit? I’d noticed your clothing was—” he looked me up and down “— tight and let your mother know to bring a bigger size.” He went to seat himself on the bed, where he had a view of the entire room. His eyes tracked me, pricking my senses even when I turned my back to him.
“Oh, I… I was just about to change,” I said, my words sticky in my throat. I turned back to the sink to pat some cool water on my cheeks and wash away the tear tracks that marred my face.
I wanted to close the door and regain some of the privacy I had before. Tingles ran down my back and settled at the base of my spine from his presence.
“Your mother gave me the information about meeting with the estate lawyer,” he said as I finished drying my face. “I’ll just go ahead and do the meeting. I know how hard it must be for you.”
“Oh. No, I definitely want to go to that,” I responded, my words letting loose at the worst time. I froze.
“There’s no need to push yourself, Grace. I will go and takecare of everything. You don’t need to worry about anything.” Bill stood and the space suddenly seemed too small. If I didn’t know better, I would think I was afraid of this man.
