Page 48 of Toxic Hope
I’m sure she does care. I mean, we didn’t even spend an entire meal at the house, but it’s obvious she cares. “That’s why I asked, ’cause it seems like she cares so much. I figured she’d be here, making sure you’re all right.”
“Maybe she’s weirded out by hospitals,” Easton mutters.
“She’s definitely spent enough time in them, between me and Grandpa and herself.” I don’t know why she is so determined to keep everything locked inside. It’s like pulling teeth to get a simple answer. And even when she starts to explain, she speaks so slowly. Like she’s searching for every word.
“What’s wrong with Grandma Lois?” I ask. Am I a little sharp? Maybe. But she seems like a nice lady.
Emma almost smiles, but it doesn’t last long. “She had a mild stroke a couple of years ago. Not long after Grandpa died, actually. I really want her to take it easy as much as she can. I…” She gets an uncomfortable look on her face while she stares at her lap. “I need her, you know? She’s all I have now. So I want to take care of her.”
Easton looks at me. I look at him. Neither one of us knows what to say.
We’re not exactly in touch with our feelings. We don’t sit around discussing what’s going on in our heads or how things affect us day-to-day. Not beyond bitching over stuff that pisses us off, anyway.
But this is different territory. It’s uncomfortable. At the same time, I want to know. I want to hear about her life, even if all she can talk about is struggling. Not because I feel like getting off onher misery, either. I’m having a hard time remembering when I wanted that.
“And it’s just the two of you?” I ask. “Aunts, uncles? Cousins?”
She shakes her head slowly. “My mom was Grandma’s only child, and all of the extended family on that side lives all over the country. They came for my parents’ funerals, and for Grandpa’s. But those are the only times I’ve really seen them. And my dad’s family life wasn’t really good—he didn’t have a relationship with any of them. I don’t even know where they live or if any of them are still alive.”
Meanwhile, I’m sitting here with years worth of family holidays playing across my memory. Aunts, uncles, cousins. Ski trips, summers at the beach.
“And you said before that you came to live here because there were better treatment options, right?” Easton leans forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at her. Studying her. I know the feeling. Like I want to see inside her head. The more she lets us see, even little bits at a time, the more I want.
“Yeah. We lived in a pretty small town and the nearest hospital was far away. That made it really hard when she had the stroke, too. It would take me forever to get back and forth to visit, and sometimes, I would stay in a motel nearby, but it started to add up after a while.”
“And then you got sick,” I murmur. It’s hard to imagine. One thing after another.
“At first, I blamed it on being worried about her. Especially when she came home from the rehab center, and I still had to go to school during the day. We couldn’t afford a nurse all day long, only a few hours at a time, and it stressed me out. I was doing as much of the housework as I could, too—the cooking, the shopping.”
Fuck me. Just hearing her talk about it is exhausting. All that responsibility at such a young age. On her own.
No wonder she’s so damn tough. We must have looked like a joke compared to the shit she’s battled with.
“You figured it was wiping you out.” Easton frowns when she nods.
“But then I started losing weight because it was harder and harder to eat, and it felt like I was picking up every bug that came around.” Then she snorts and chuckles. “You know what Grandma did? I took her to a follow-up appointment with her doctor, and she told him everything that was going on with me because I kept telling her I didn’t have time to go to the doctor between taking care of the house and taking care of her and going to school. He wrote me a referral to get blood drawn that same afternoon, and… here we are.”
I am liking Grandma Lois more and more all the time.
“So, you being stubborn—that’s not a new thing,” Easton muses.
I’m glad he said it, because it makes her laugh, but I’m not in the mood to joke right now. It’s hard to imagine what she just described. I’ve never been through anything close to it. We see a little less of Mom all the time, and we’re not supposed to know it’s because she can’t get off the pills, and of course, there’s this Sarah situation. Finding out my sister was being abused isn’t a highlight of my life, but it’s nothing compared to what Emma has going on.
Have I ever had to take care of a sick person? Was there ever a moment in my life when I worried I would be completely alone? Because that’s what would’ve happened to Emma if her grandma died. She would’ve been alone. Completely. It must’ve been terrifying.
And all of that happened before she got what could’ve been a death sentence. She has been through more in eighteen yearsthan some people go through in fifty. When I think about how pissed I was when Dad told us about our volunteer hours—not just pissed, enraged—it makes me feel sort of small.Like I have anything to complain about.
I can’t shake those thoughts as we leave for the night, once Emma is finished. She won’t let us drive her home. No big surprise. “I told you. No pity.” I don’t know if she thinks she’s being brave by stonewalling us in the parking lot.
“There’s a difference between pity and basic common sense, you know.” I’m wasting my breath, obviously. “At least let us follow you home to make sure you get there okay.” She can’t argue with that. Maybe she doesn’t have it in her.
When we’re in my truck, ready to follow her, Easton elbows me. “What’s with asking permission to follow her? Like we need permission.”
“She needs to feel like she has a say.” When she pulls out of her spot, I follow. “I’m starting to understand the way she thinks, I guess.”
I’m starting to understand a lot more than I did before. Some of it has to do with knowing more about Emma, seeing things through new eyes. The rest, I think, has to do with paying attention. Looking deeper.
Like when we reach the house, which is one of only a few single-story buildings on the block. Easier for Emma—and Lois, now that I think about it, even though she seems energetic enough. Maybe she has her bad days.
