Another Hospital Stay
Chapter 2
I'm shaken out of my daze by my grandmother's gentle voice, calling my name.
"Alexia! Come here, please, I need your help," she calls out, beckoning from the doorway, and disappearing into the kitchen.
I sigh and lift myself off of the seat I was in, and make my way into the kitchen to help my grandmother prepare dinner for my grandfather, who was almost home from work.
"Abuela, can I ask you something," I ask as soon as I walk in.
"What is it, mija," she asks, bustling around the kitchen, looking for the only knife that we own.
"I was wondering…"I start, my voice trailing away. She looks up at me and frowns. "What happened to my mother? Why hasn't she written in all the years that she's been gone? Did she not love me as she claimed to have? Did she forget about me and start somewhere fresh?"
"Mija, you ask me this all the time. And as always, the answer is the same. Your mother left and I don't know where or why she hasn't written. And of course, mija, she loved you, she still does, wherever she is. And I doubt she has forgotten about you," my grandmother says, not looking at me.
"Then why did she leave," I cry, wanting more than ever the answers that I've been dying to hear for the past fifteen years. "Abuela, you can't keep the truth from me forever! I've got to know someday! Why not now," I add, almost in tears.
"One day I will tell you everything. All of it. I promise. But when you're ready and that is not now. You're not ready," she tells me, looking at me sadly.
"Abuela! I've waited fifteen years to know where my mother went and why she left! It's time that I find out where she is and why she left. You can't protect me from every little thing," I say, pulling out a chair from under the kitchen table and sitting down. "Por favor. Tell me. I need to know what happened to my mother. Please."
She shakes her head and looks away, out the window. "I don't want to hurt you more than you already are," she says quietly.
"What else can hurt me now, abuela? I grew up without my father and my mother. Don't tell me that that didn't hurt me more than words can say. You don't know how that feels, growing up without parents. Do you know how badly I was teased by kids during the years I was going to school, before you pulled me out and home-schooled? They made fun of the fact that I was an orphan. A kid who wasn't normal, one without parents. That hurt. But not as much as growing up without my parents," I say, starting to cry.
I lower my head and brusquely brush the tears away with the back of my hand. I hear my grandmother's light footsteps approaching the table and the sound of the heavy chair legs scraping the wood floor. I hear her steady breathing and smell her perfume, the smell of roses, her preferred fragrance of choice.
"You really want to know, mija," she asks, placing her hand lightly on mine. I look up and gaze into her eyes, trying to see if she was speaking the truth. I slowly nod and place my other hand on top of hers, gently squeezing it.
"Yes, I do. It's time I find out," I say, my face showing no emotion whatsoever.
"Very well. But promise me one thing," she says, looking me straight in the eyes.
"Anything."
"Promise me you won't be mad at me or your grandfather for not telling you. For keeping this a secret for so long. We did it to protect you from suffering while you were growing up. We didn't want to burden you with anything else," she says, speaking slowing and never breaking our eye contact.
"I promise. I know you did it for me," I say, looking at her.
"Alexia! Come here, please, I need your help," she calls out, beckoning from the doorway, and disappearing into the kitchen.
I sigh and lift myself off of the seat I was in, and make my way into the kitchen to help my grandmother prepare dinner for my grandfather, who was almost home from work.
"Abuela, can I ask you something," I ask as soon as I walk in.
"What is it, mija," she asks, bustling around the kitchen, looking for the only knife that we own.
"I was wondering…"I start, my voice trailing away. She looks up at me and frowns. "What happened to my mother? Why hasn't she written in all the years that she's been gone? Did she not love me as she claimed to have? Did she forget about me and start somewhere fresh?"
"Mija, you ask me this all the time. And as always, the answer is the same. Your mother left and I don't know where or why she hasn't written. And of course, mija, she loved you, she still does, wherever she is. And I doubt she has forgotten about you," my grandmother says, not looking at me.
"Then why did she leave," I cry, wanting more than ever the answers that I've been dying to hear for the past fifteen years. "Abuela, you can't keep the truth from me forever! I've got to know someday! Why not now," I add, almost in tears.
"One day I will tell you everything. All of it. I promise. But when you're ready and that is not now. You're not ready," she tells me, looking at me sadly.
"Abuela! I've waited fifteen years to know where my mother went and why she left! It's time that I find out where she is and why she left. You can't protect me from every little thing," I say, pulling out a chair from under the kitchen table and sitting down. "Por favor. Tell me. I need to know what happened to my mother. Please."
She shakes her head and looks away, out the window. "I don't want to hurt you more than you already are," she says quietly.
"What else can hurt me now, abuela? I grew up without my father and my mother. Don't tell me that that didn't hurt me more than words can say. You don't know how that feels, growing up without parents. Do you know how badly I was teased by kids during the years I was going to school, before you pulled me out and home-schooled? They made fun of the fact that I was an orphan. A kid who wasn't normal, one without parents. That hurt. But not as much as growing up without my parents," I say, starting to cry.
I lower my head and brusquely brush the tears away with the back of my hand. I hear my grandmother's light footsteps approaching the table and the sound of the heavy chair legs scraping the wood floor. I hear her steady breathing and smell her perfume, the smell of roses, her preferred fragrance of choice.
"You really want to know, mija," she asks, placing her hand lightly on mine. I look up and gaze into her eyes, trying to see if she was speaking the truth. I slowly nod and place my other hand on top of hers, gently squeezing it.
"Yes, I do. It's time I find out," I say, my face showing no emotion whatsoever.
"Very well. But promise me one thing," she says, looking me straight in the eyes.
"Anything."
"Promise me you won't be mad at me or your grandfather for not telling you. For keeping this a secret for so long. We did it to protect you from suffering while you were growing up. We didn't want to burden you with anything else," she says, speaking slowing and never breaking our eye contact.
"I promise. I know you did it for me," I say, looking at her.