The Gap

The Gap - Chapter 1

-- Every single thing that has ever happened in your life is preparing you for a moment that is yet to come. --

When the call came, I had been single less than 24 hours, and I still had the hangover to prove it. A bottle of wine was still sitting out on the kitchen counter, or maybe the coffee table, awe, who knows.  Two more have been safely deposited in the recycle bin, or at least that's where Eva said she'd put them.

I was not accustomed to alcohol, but two others were helping me through my 'misery,' and I'd like to think they had more than their fair share, also. Since I hadn't heard any noise from their room, they must still be asleep or just very polite to their guest - me.

My relationship with David wasn't great and at times it wasn't even good, but still, I by no means wanted it to end. I enjoyed his company and loved him enough to wear his ring. Maybe I was just lazy, but I was happy to leave well enough alone. One too many late nights, one too many lies ended what I now know should've died long ago.

The intrusive ringtone made me cringe as the sound reverberated through my skull. The phone vibration off my nightstand didn't help either, and with a groan, I reached for the phone.

I braced my head and squinted at the display. It wasn't easy, but I managed. 'Unknown' was lit across my mobile. I pressed accept, hoping I would not regret it, hoping even more that it wasn't David with another lame excuse.  Because,  I just needed a break from the drama. I thought that's what moving out did for you – give you a break.

"Hello, this is Eliza," I said trying not to sound as if I was just rousing from sleep, but knowing I had failed miserably.

"I'm with Elizabeth," came a voice that sounded very winded to be what? I looked at the clock on the nightstand, 9:30 in the morning. Well, I guess that's not too early to be that out of breath.

Pulling the phone back to check the caller ID, it hadn't changed - unknown. Praying that the alcohol-laden fog would clear, I ask, "What? Who?"

"This is Becky. I'm with your grandmother, or I was. I came by to pick her up. She signed up for a class at the extension office. She didn't come to the door. That's not like her. So, I let myself in with my key. I've done it before." Becky talked fast, and her rambling was moving away from the reason she'd called.

"Becky," I say with a squeeze of my eyes, I needed her to focus, so I could hang up and get some aspirin. A swooshing in my ears was following the pounding in my head. That wasn't good, and a wave of nausea sent a flush of heat to my face that broke into a clammy sweat.

Stifling a groan and calming my bodily reactions, I bit back a curse.

"As I was saying, I was with her; she's with Curtis now."

"Curtis? That's good, so he's taking her to class?"

"No, Honey. I found her on the floor. I couldn't get her up. Curtis had to come."

Her words sent my pounding brain on alert. "Is she ok?"

"I'm not sure," was her answer and that's all I needed to sober me. "She says she took a little fall, but it's worse than that. She was having trouble standing, and she was tender. But, Eliza, Honey, she's bruised.  It's bad.  It's bad."

"Bruised?" I was quickly off the bed, ready to listen. The sudden movement made my head cinch and my stomach revolt.

"Curtis has her now. I'm following them to the emergency room. I'll call you as soon as I know more, but, Eliza, if this were my grandmother, I'd be here. She's going to need help. She's going to need you." Her last words were said with such an emphasis that I didn't even think as I began to grab clothes.

At any other time, I would have worried the details, but I needed time away from my life for a week or two, or more. Gram needed me, so, without hesitation, I packed some clothes and drove south with my head filled with memories.

It had been years since I'd called my grandparent's house 'home.' The first time I lived with them, I had been eight months old, and my mother had a bout with wanderlust. It lasted four years, and when she returned it was with Danny, the first of four husbands.

I was eight when she ran off with Danny's best friend, and she decided I was a burden, again. For the next few years, she floated in and out of my life, and I floated in and out of her house until I was fifteen.

My grandparent's never had permanent custody of me, and as long as my mother was showing an effort, they couldn't get a judge to change that. But, at fifteen, I met my birth father. He offered me a place to live and stability and a chance at a less drama filled adolescence. I didn't hesitate. My only regret was the move had made it difficult for me to see my grandparents as often, but my dad did his best to let me visit.

As for my mom, I wrote her out of my life seven years ago, when she was conspicuously absent from my grandfather's funeral. Even though my grandmother was not one to think badly of someone, she informed me, "If a person wants to be a part of your life, they will make an obvious effort to do so."

--

Exiting the elevator on the fifth floor, Curtis Thompson, my gram's sixty-plus-year-old farm manager, waited. His thin, dark blond and gray hair was cut short, and he was wearing his tan shirt and jeans that had been his trademark work attire for as long as I'd known him.

He greeted me with a hug before walking me to my grandmother's room. "Elizabeth is out of it for now. Doc gave her somethin' for pain. She's resting. He says nothin' broken, but he's still keepin' her overnight. He'll see how fast she builds her strength before decidin' what to do next."

I just nodded my head as I listened before adding, "Becky let me know. Thank you."

"I figured she did, but," he trailed off, looking distraught.

"I know," I gave his hand a little squeeze. "Thanks for taking care of her."

He nodded, "My pleasure," and we walked the rest of the way to her room in silence.