The Pretend To Be Agreement

Chapter Twenty-Five

*Warning: Things gets a little heated!

Grace

I hated hospitals. Nothing good ever happens here. All I hear is the cries of agony and sadness as we walk down the hall. My stomach was already in knots, but as we get closer to the room Frederick was staying in all I wanted to do was turn back around. Not even having an entire week to mentally prepare myself for what I was going to see when I walked in didn't even help one bit.

So many questions swarmed around inside of my head. What if he's dead? What if he's already gone? Why the hell did Will have to be so fucking persuasive?

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. I tell myself over and over again as we stop in front of the door, and the grip I have on Will's hand tightens to the point when I glance downward I see that my knuckles are white and the tips of his fingers are going purple. Loosening my hand from his, I cross my arms.

Inhaling deeply, I step into the room, and when I do it's exactly the same as it had been the last time I saw it a week ago. There's still a bunch of 'get well soon' cards spread out on the counter near the window, and the balloons in the corner all have a smiley face on them but there all deflating. The heart monitor that he's hooked up to still beeps - giving me only the slightest reassurance.

Sitting in a chair, near the bed, is Marge. Big, almost black bags hung under her eyes, but the glasses she wore hid them pretty well. We didn't look that much different, besides the obvious wrinkles that came with age, the wedding ring on her finger, and the clothing.

But everything else was the same. Like the tear stained cheeks and the love we had for the man in that hospital bed. Behind her chair I spot the garbage can, which is filled to the rim with used, snotty tissues and Ramen soup containers. Her multi colored purse sat at her feet, and her knitting stuff just barely fit into it.

She looks up at me when I walk over to her and she flashes me a weak attempt at a smile. Her blue eyes, which usually shone so bright with happiness, were now glowing with what could only be described as a breaking heart.

It tore at me deeply to watch her going through this. I could only imagine where David, her son, must be at time like this. Last time I had seen of him was three years ago, and it was his aunt's funeral.

But her eyes brighten up when she notices Will standing behind me and she places the book she had been reading on the table beside her. Standing up, she slowly and carefully makes her way over to him, and before he could do anything she had her arms wrapped around his torso. She gives him what I could only call 'the python hug'; she's basically squeezes the living daylights out of him.

When she does let her arms fall back down to her sides, Will instantly gasps for air, his hands landing on his knees as he starts cough. I rush over to his side, having to hold back my laughter as I pat his back.

"Mrs. Harris ... a bit of warning next time, ya?" He said, smiling up at her.

"Oh, there's going be a next time, will there? Well, if that's going to happen, then you can just call me Marge or Grandma Marge." She informs him, and I knew right there and then that she had accepted him.

Neither Will nor I had missed the way she had cleverly snuck 'Grandma Marge' into her sentence. She wasn't a grandmother because David was a bit afraid of relationships, that and the fact that both her Frederick acted as surrogate parents to me. A blush creeps onto my cheeks when I realize what she's implying and beside me Will chokes on his sip.

"Yeah ... will get right on it," he mumbles and Marge lets out a giggle.

"I'm going to ask, just be polite and all, but you are Will. Aren't you? 'Cause if not, then this going to get very awkward, very fast." She said, a wide grin set on her face as she looked between and I.