Caroline's POV:
I watched in horror as I saw mom tumble down the stairs. I tried to get up and rush towards her but my stupid legs refused to carry me. I missed a step and fell. I was a few feet away from mom now. She was bleeding from her head, lying in an awkward angel. She wasn't moving. I yelled for dad and yelled at mom. Nothing, she lay there like a rag doll.
I tried to move but even that was not possible. I was scared now. Mom always responded to me. Always. But for every second that she lay there I begged the Lord to please save her, take my life instead, but please save this angle who let me call her mom.
Dad heard the commotion and came rushing down. He blanched at the sight greeting him. He ran to mom and tried to wake her, but nothing again. She simply did not stir. He rushed to me and helped me up then placing me next to mom he ran to dial 911.
I sat there, next to mom, loving her the way she loved me; patting her face, kissing her head, yet nothing. I was bawling my eyes out but she did not get up. Not even to wipe my tears. It was the same hell again. I was going to lose a mother. It was killing me. I did not have the guts to go through this hell.
"Where the hell is the damn ambulance?" I yelled at dad. It had taken forever yet the ambulance wasn't here. He sat next to me; cradling her limp body and me. He too had tears in his eyes. "She will be alright Caro. Don't worry."
Soon we heard the sirens and Dad ran to arrange them inside. They loaded her and were all set to take her in when I requested that they take me too. One of them picked me up and put me inside, next to her stretcher.
Dad zoomed past us and was inside the hospital when they unloaded mom. She had still not moved. The paramedic with me in the ambulance had put her on some drips and was constantly in touch with the hospital. Everything from there on was a blur. They moved fast, rushing her into the theatre for scans and tests and what not while dad and I were taken to the waiting room.
I realized something very important then, I had still to call grandma. "Dad,” I ventured softly, "Can I have your cell? I want to call Grandma. Please." He looked at me and nodded, too choked to really speak. He was as white as a sheet. I dialed grand's number and was surprised to see her number on the speed dial.
"Hello, son in law??" her voice chirped and I lost my nerve. How will I tell her? I wondered.
"Hello??" She asked again and I let out a sob. "Gran?" I whispered
"What has happened Caro?" She asked, her voice laced with panic. When I couldn’t respond, she began soothing me, promising me she would make everything alright, I simply had to tell her the problem, she said.
I couldn't control my fears. Her soothing voice broke the damn of self control as I broke down; totally. "Gran... Mom...sob... Mom… hospital...sob... come... please…" I couldn't say anything more. I was petrified. I hated the hospitals; they always brought back bad memory. It was now happening all over again.
Dad was hugging me, telling me it would all be alright. But in my mind I was an 8 year old, sobbing for my mother; clutching my dad and doll; praying that God saves my mother.
It was happening again. I was praying for my mother again and what scared me most was The Lord had not listened to me then. Would he listen to me now?
"Hush my little princess; He will listen to you now. Don't worry baby girl, your mom will be alright." Dad whispered into my ear. Had I said that aloud? I looked up and he silently nodded. We hugged each other. He too must have been reliving those moments because he was silently crying.
Soon Gran and Grandpa arrived. I could hear the rustle of her silk sari as she pulled me away from dad and hugged me tight." Bache? Talk to me my child?" She cooed as she hugged me tight. I let her scent of sandalwood engulf me. "Mom" I sobbed and she hugged me tighter still. "What happened to her?" She whispered.
I choked on my sob as I tried to explain what happened. I don't know how she understood what I said in between sobs and tears but I think she got the gist. She held onto me as I clung to her with every ounce of strength in me.
"Gran, I cannot lose mom again. I have waited 10 years to be able to call my mom. I cannot let God take her away too, just like the last time." I whispered.
"Baby, I understand how you feel. I am praying too for your mother. Hopefully you will be able to call her that even when you both are old and frail." She smiled and I too tried.
"Is it weird Gran to call an 18 year old mom? Do you know how she feels about it? Does she love me as I love her?" I asked her about my insecurities. Mom was always there for me. Always… Never did she make me feel like her step daughter or like someone as old as her. I was always her little princess. But with dad's anger this doubt had crept in lately and today, I finally found the courage to ask Gran.
She looked into my eyes; deep into them, as if reading my soul. Mom was just like that. Every time I lied or tried to hide something, I was subjected to this penetrating glare and I found myself speaking up; blurting out everything. Weird, I always found her eyes compelling, even when we were enemies.
"Beta," Gran began, "she loves you like her own child. When we gave you our blood, she and happily announced to her husband and dad that now you were a part of her too; you were her blood too. You were totally her daughter." She smiled remembering that incident and I felt a weight lift off my heart. We smiled at each other.
She began again," It is not the age that matters in a relation. Ever. It is the feeling and purity of those feelings that matter. My husband is more than 10 years my senior, yet we are the best of friends. Some of the children in my family are as old as me and yet they bow down before me with the same respect accorded to a women who is their aunt. This is what a relation is about. Age is a number; it’s the feelings that matter."
I nodded understanding what she was saying. Mom is still my mom even though we are both 18. It was our love that mattered, not the age, not the world. Nothing but our love was important.
The doctor came out then and asked for mom's family. We all looked up and he smiled in recognition. "Your mom is doing well," He smiled at me and continued, "She is over two month into her pregnancy and luck was on her side as both mother and baby are safe and fine. She twisted her ankle and has a slight concussion but there is no need to worry. She can go home in the morning." saying so he smiled and left.
Grand mom hugged me in glee. She was going to become a grandmother all over again, she sang and I smiled. She handed me a crisp 100dollor note and kissed the top of my head. "The daughter of the house is always given gifts to celebrate good news" she explained and I smiled. Grandpa did the same as he hugged dad. Dad did not respond to him and Grandpa stepped back feeling put out.
He was always a little distant from Grandpa. Always. I wondered why though.
But we were all happy and gay and couldn't wait to meet mom. I laughed though, I was 200 dollars richer and only because I am the daughter of the house. Mom sure did have queer beliefs. She too had done this when she realized she was expecting.
I remember her being scared as she came in and tried to sound me out. She wanted to know how I would feel about a new brother or sister. When I asked her, she admitted that as of this morning, she realized she was pregnant. I was ecstatic and we had partied the whole morning away instead of religiously studying.
Now, I had to wait till morning to take my mom home. The Lord had listened to me this time.
I looked up and softly thanked him for keeping my little mom safe and my baby sibling too.
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