Another Hospital Stay
Chapter 6
"What took you so long last night," my grandmother asks the next morning as soon as she walks into my room. She sits at the edge of my bed, looking at me. "And why didn't you answer the phone when we called you?"
I look at her from where I was standing in front of my dresser, fixing my hair one-handed. I had my left hand tightly bandaged from my little run in with…Ray? "Umm…it took me awhile to find what I needed at the store," I lie, finishing with my hair.
"What happened to your hand," she asks, looking at me worriedly.
"I ran into someone last night when I wasn't looking and fell, landing on my wrist," I say.
"How bad is it? Let me see it, come over here," she says, holding out her hand.
"I'm fine, abuela. It's just a small sprain," I say, heading into the bathroom. I quickly wash my face and teeth before walking back into my room. "Abuela, I need to talk to you," I say, sitting down on the bed beside her.
"What is it, mija," she asks, looking over at me.
"Well, I've been thinking and well…I decided that I'm going to go visit my mom," I say, looking her in the eye.
"When did you decide this, mija," she asks, the tone in her voice changing.
"A few days ago. I already bought my plane ticket," I say, looking away. "And I talked to dad's mom a few days ago and asked if I could stay with them. She agreed and I'm leaving today at three."
"So soon, mija? But why did you hide this from your grandfather and I? We wouldn't have stopped you," she says.
"I just wanted to be sure that I was going to go. Besides, I was planning on leaving without telling you two at all when I realized that I needed some way to get to the airport," I say, getting up and walking over to my window.
"We couldn't have stopped you even if we tried. You have a right to get to know your mother and we can't take that away from you, especially now, when you're growing up into a nice, young woman," she says, getting up and walking over to stand next to me.
"I know. And I'm sorry to just burst out with this all of a sudden," I say, looking down at her. "But don't worry, I'll be fine, okay?" She nods and I notice that she was now crying. "Abuela, don't cry. It's going to be okay. I'll be back before you know it," I add, pulling her into a hug.
She nods briefly, still not looking at me, tears still streaming down her face. "I'm not going to say anything to convince you not to go, you have every right, especially after all we've kept from you," she says, looking down at her hands.
"Thank you, abuela. Can you help me pack," I ask, brushing a kiss onto her head. She nods and turns away from the window, heading in the direction of my closet.
"How much do you think you need," she asks, pulling open the door and grabbing a suitcase out of it. I shrug and just walk up beside her, looking at my clothes.
"I have no clue nor how long I'm going to be there," I say, thinking of what I needed. I finally snap my fingers and add, "How about, we stuff as much clothes as we can into the suitcase and leave it at that?"
"Sounds like a plan to me," my grandmother agrees, nodding her head. She starts grabbing clothes that were hanging and started folding them neatly, placing them inside the suitcase. It took us about ten minutes to get everything ready. As soon as she finished helping me with my suitcase, she walks out and heads downstairs. It takes me another five to grab a messenger bag that I had with things that I would be needing. The one thing that I placed in my bag carefully was a picture of my mother, taken when she had been my age, twenty. She had long straight black hair, large hazel-colored almond shaped eyes, full lips, and a perfect smile. From what my grandmother told me, my mother had been tall, extremely thin with a soft, gentle and sweet voice. She also told me that I look a lot like her, something of which I am extremely proud of.
"All done," I say, throwing myself onto my bed. "When is abuelo getting home," I add, propping myself up on my elbow.
My grandmother had just barely walked through the door when I asked her that. "I just called him and explained what was going on. He said he's on his way but that he needed to run a quick errand before coming home. He also agreed to drive you to the airport," she says, sitting down on the bed and stroking my hair.
"Abuela, when you last saw my mom, how was she," I ask, staring up at my ceiling.
"She was fine. She looked beautiful, like she always has," she replies', getting one of her faraway looks. "Everytime your grandfather and I go visit her, the first words out of her mouth are, 'How's my little girl, Alexia, doing?' No matter what people have told you, or what you've come to believe, your mother has always loved you." She looks down at me and smiles, her eyes gleaming. "You look so much like her, mija. You look exactly like she did when she was your age. You've got her eyes but your father's smile," she adds, running a caressing finger along my jaw.
"Was she shy around people or did she always talk to someone, even if she didn't know them," I ask, sounding curious.
"Once again, she's like you. She was always very outgoing, especially after she met Omar, your father. Those two were something, always together from the day they met. About a year after they met, the got engaged, this was still while your mother was still finishing college. Omar waited until she graduated and they got married that summer. They come to me about six months later with the news that Josefina was pregnant, with you, mi dulce angelito," she says, smiling at me and leaning down to give me a kiss.
I look at her from where I was standing in front of my dresser, fixing my hair one-handed. I had my left hand tightly bandaged from my little run in with…Ray? "Umm…it took me awhile to find what I needed at the store," I lie, finishing with my hair.
"What happened to your hand," she asks, looking at me worriedly.
"I ran into someone last night when I wasn't looking and fell, landing on my wrist," I say.
"How bad is it? Let me see it, come over here," she says, holding out her hand.
"I'm fine, abuela. It's just a small sprain," I say, heading into the bathroom. I quickly wash my face and teeth before walking back into my room. "Abuela, I need to talk to you," I say, sitting down on the bed beside her.
"What is it, mija," she asks, looking over at me.
"Well, I've been thinking and well…I decided that I'm going to go visit my mom," I say, looking her in the eye.
"When did you decide this, mija," she asks, the tone in her voice changing.
"A few days ago. I already bought my plane ticket," I say, looking away. "And I talked to dad's mom a few days ago and asked if I could stay with them. She agreed and I'm leaving today at three."
"So soon, mija? But why did you hide this from your grandfather and I? We wouldn't have stopped you," she says.
"I just wanted to be sure that I was going to go. Besides, I was planning on leaving without telling you two at all when I realized that I needed some way to get to the airport," I say, getting up and walking over to my window.
"We couldn't have stopped you even if we tried. You have a right to get to know your mother and we can't take that away from you, especially now, when you're growing up into a nice, young woman," she says, getting up and walking over to stand next to me.
"I know. And I'm sorry to just burst out with this all of a sudden," I say, looking down at her. "But don't worry, I'll be fine, okay?" She nods and I notice that she was now crying. "Abuela, don't cry. It's going to be okay. I'll be back before you know it," I add, pulling her into a hug.
She nods briefly, still not looking at me, tears still streaming down her face. "I'm not going to say anything to convince you not to go, you have every right, especially after all we've kept from you," she says, looking down at her hands.
"Thank you, abuela. Can you help me pack," I ask, brushing a kiss onto her head. She nods and turns away from the window, heading in the direction of my closet.
"How much do you think you need," she asks, pulling open the door and grabbing a suitcase out of it. I shrug and just walk up beside her, looking at my clothes.
"I have no clue nor how long I'm going to be there," I say, thinking of what I needed. I finally snap my fingers and add, "How about, we stuff as much clothes as we can into the suitcase and leave it at that?"
"Sounds like a plan to me," my grandmother agrees, nodding her head. She starts grabbing clothes that were hanging and started folding them neatly, placing them inside the suitcase. It took us about ten minutes to get everything ready. As soon as she finished helping me with my suitcase, she walks out and heads downstairs. It takes me another five to grab a messenger bag that I had with things that I would be needing. The one thing that I placed in my bag carefully was a picture of my mother, taken when she had been my age, twenty. She had long straight black hair, large hazel-colored almond shaped eyes, full lips, and a perfect smile. From what my grandmother told me, my mother had been tall, extremely thin with a soft, gentle and sweet voice. She also told me that I look a lot like her, something of which I am extremely proud of.
"All done," I say, throwing myself onto my bed. "When is abuelo getting home," I add, propping myself up on my elbow.
My grandmother had just barely walked through the door when I asked her that. "I just called him and explained what was going on. He said he's on his way but that he needed to run a quick errand before coming home. He also agreed to drive you to the airport," she says, sitting down on the bed and stroking my hair.
"Abuela, when you last saw my mom, how was she," I ask, staring up at my ceiling.
"She was fine. She looked beautiful, like she always has," she replies', getting one of her faraway looks. "Everytime your grandfather and I go visit her, the first words out of her mouth are, 'How's my little girl, Alexia, doing?' No matter what people have told you, or what you've come to believe, your mother has always loved you." She looks down at me and smiles, her eyes gleaming. "You look so much like her, mija. You look exactly like she did when she was your age. You've got her eyes but your father's smile," she adds, running a caressing finger along my jaw.
"Was she shy around people or did she always talk to someone, even if she didn't know them," I ask, sounding curious.
"Once again, she's like you. She was always very outgoing, especially after she met Omar, your father. Those two were something, always together from the day they met. About a year after they met, the got engaged, this was still while your mother was still finishing college. Omar waited until she graduated and they got married that summer. They come to me about six months later with the news that Josefina was pregnant, with you, mi dulce angelito," she says, smiling at me and leaning down to give me a kiss.