Lola Wade

Chapter 3

It was nearly midday so the sun was high in the sky. I could just about see it through the small window at the end of the ward. I had spent hours telling my grandmother the elaborate story explaining what had happened since we arrived. All the way through she had listened most intently. I appreciated this as I felt more than a little silly about the drama that I had caused. It was kind of her to pretend that my mistakes were easy to make. On the other hand, she was not best pleased about me punching the doctor, but I had promised to apologise to him, so that had shut her up. Of course that was all just words. I never apologised to anyone.

I don’t think that I had ever been so relieved in my whole life. Come tomorrow I would be able to go back home, to sleep in my own bed again. Looking at the positives, I had just then realised that I must have missed a few days of school. I asked a passing nurse what day it was but it turned out to be a Sunday. So much for that, I had missed the weekend.

At the time that seemed bad, but it wasn’t until I read the text message sent from my best friend Tash that I realised my luck.

Where were you on Saturday?

Can’t believe u missed it

Tash  

Dammit, I was such an idiot. She must be so mad at me right now. I would be so mad at me right now.

Tash was my best friend, short for Natasha. She was the only real friend that I had as most people avoided me. I’m not sure why but I had Tash and she said that sooner or later they’d get over it.

I had become good friends with her when I was eleven. Since then we’ve been inseparable, always together. For her birthday we were going to go to London for the day. She was so excited about seeing all of the museums, Trafalgar square and Buckingham palace especially.

My Grandma looked at me quizzically. “Is there something the matter?” she asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

“No, no, nothing… I’m just tired” I lied. She must have been tired herself and the last thing that she needed was to stress about me as well.

“Are you sure?” she persisted, “you look dreadfully concerned about something.” I rolled my eyes, she did go on sometimes.

“So can we go home tomorrow then?” I asked, changing the subject. I smiled at her cheerfully to let her know that I was alright. Thankfully she dropped our previous topic of conversation and replied.

“Yes, I’m free to go home tomorrow.” Not only did she have a look of complete exasperation on her frequently exasperated face, but also seemed to want to say more. I feared that it would be bad news so I spoke again before she had a chance.

“Oh excellent, that means that I can have a nice hot bath and sleep in my bed again. Ooh and I can go and see my friends (I had only been here for a few days but for some reason it felt like much longer)”. I tried to look excited, to show her how much I was looking forward to going home. I may have over done it a bit, but I didn’t want to here whatever it was that she wanted to say. I would have put money on the fact that it wasn’t good news, for me anyway. Therefore, I was desperate for her to change her mind and realise that I was happy with life as it was. End of story.

We were silent for a few moments, but we both new that one of us had to say something eventually. I looked up to see her gazing at me sadly. Her eye lids were sagging from lack of sleep and her face was wrinkled and worn. So many years of stress and anxiety had caused her to be wilted and tired. No longer was she capable of holding herself together to deal with the everyday problems life threw at her. I was the one who had to be strong.

For as long as I could remember, I had lived with my grandma. She had been good to me, too good really. Not only had she been my guardian, but also my friend and companion. I hate to think about what life will be like when she has gone.

As she looked into my eyes, I could see the pain behind them. blue beacons of sunken pity, that radiated sadness and regret. It hurt to look at her. I could pretend that I didn’t now what she had to say. I could imagine that there was, in fact, nothing to say at all. But, in all truth we both new what the doctor had told her and what she needed to tell me. Despite the fact that I knew already, I couldn’t face up to hearing it from her.

I got up to leave but she sat up straight and reached out to me in an effort to make me stay. How could I refuse? I moved closer to her, sitting down beside her pillow. After slipping my shoes off, I stretched my legs out in front of me on her bed and wrapped my arm around her frail shoulders.

We sat like this for what must have been ten, twenty minutes. We had done an awful lot of silent thinking that day. I was just about to break our long moment of peaceful wishing, when I noticed a tear slipping down my grandmothers pale chapped cheek.

“You understand?” she spoke in no more than a whisper and had no more to say. I thought about what she had asked but didn’t know how to reply.

“I understand”, I replied “but that doesn’t mean that I want to”. I paused and stared at her hard on in the face. “Do you understand?”

She looked back at me, heart broken. I immediately felt guilty. “I’ll be with you” I reassured her “I’ll be with you ‘till the very end, you know that”.

“Yeah, I know”. She could barely be heard but for the small sobs of grief she let out. I took her hand and held her tight until her blood shot eyes were tearless and she held my hand back. We both knew that it was a lie.

There was no one in the world who I could ever have more respect for that my grandma. Not only was she brave, but also had the kindest heart. I had so many memories of her in her prime. Every morning she would make me breakfast; I would wake to the smell of freshly baked bread and scrambled eggs. On my first day of school she held my small chubby hand and led me into the classroom. Reluctantly, I let her go, but she was back early to collect me at the end of the day. Much like she always was.

In the holidays we would go to the beach together. We lived in England so it was never warm, but never the less every year we would run into the icy sea together in our swimsuits. Every year we would briskly return only moments later to our warm towels and clothes. The day would always finish with us sitting in the same seaside café drinking hot chocolate and eating scones.

That’s what I would miss the most about her. That was the one day of the year that I really looked forward to. Me and her being together. No matter where we both lived, that’s how it would always be. Us, together.