Status: Probably won't be finished, this one. Still, this story is very significant to me, so I'll probably keep it up.
Red is Her Favorite Color
Getting the News
As always, I'm sitting at my computer, working on another project that I failed to wisely manage my time with - it was now approaching 11:30 at night and I was only halfway finished with the book report. Having my iPod on close to full blast, I was content in my own little world at my PC. I had my music blaring in my ears, I had a steaming cup of tea next to me, and I had the book that I was reviewing on a chair next to me.
Not noticing a whole lot of commotion coming from the neighboring room (the kitchen), I was surprised when my mother and father came into the computer room together. I hadn't even known she had gotten home from work yet! I quickly glance at the clock in the lower right corner of my monitor and see that it was indeed quarter to midnight, which is around the time I would expect my mom to be home tonight.
Looking back up at my parents, I notice their solemn expressions. I can see my mom is either close to tears or has already been crying because her eyes are glazed over. My father, on the other hand, is carrying a tissue that he repeatedly blows his nose in - I can tell that he's been crying, because there are red rims around his eyes and he doesn't have that usual smirk on his face.
My dad never cries. This must be something serious. I brace myself, subconsciously grimacing before my parents even spoke a word to me. I turn off my iPod, pull the headphones from around my ears so that they're laying around my neck, and turn ninety degrees so that I'm facing both of them, dreading what was to come.
"Aeryn, I...your grandmother's dead."
* * *
"Dad, are we almost there?" my little brother, Steven, asks.
"Mhmm, we're almost there." my father replies, hands clutching the steering wheel with a little more force than usual.
I sit in the passenger seat, glancing out the window at my surroundings. The scenery isn't much different from that around my house, about 30 minutes from here. There are large evergreen and spruce trees lining the streets, larger, more expensive houses and named neighborhoods every couple miles, and the random independently owned restaurants and specialty stores dotting the side of the road.
We pull into the hospital parking lot, steering our way to the emergency entrance and parking our car quickly before jumping out of the car and rushing to the automatic doors. After what I thought was a bit of a peaceful drive, we are now almost running into a hospital! How quickly atmosphere changes.
We approach the receptionist behind the desk, my dad taking a deep breath before saying, "We're here to see Helen Greenbrook."
"Well," the receptionist starts, eyeing Steven warily, "You can go through those doors, sir, but they'll have to stay here in the waiting room."
I look up at my dad and nod, letting him know that I'll look after Steven and he should go inside. After all, it's his mother that's in there, he should be able to see her and not have to worry about us.
As the receptionist is giving my dad directions to where my grandmother's room is, I steer Steven over to a corner in the waiting room, unkowingly right under a television tuned to Dr. Phil. If only I had brought my iPod, or even the hours of homework I needed to get done for the next day....
Glancing around me, I start to "people-watch", hoping that with my head almost enclosed in the hood of my black jacket they wouldn't notice me staring at them. I saw a woman with an orange tan and too-blonde hair wearing a black t-shirt, staring intently up at Dr. Phil. It was a little unnerving, because sometimes I would forget that she was looking up at the TV screen and not looking at me, so I would duck my head or turn it sideways towards a pot full of petunias.
I look over to the receptionist desk and, as would be expected, my dad was no longer there. I wondered what would be on the other side of those doors, what awaited him in my grandma's room. I imagined my father walking through the starch-white hallways, avoiding the trays with scalpels and syringes on them, almost bumping into a few doctors and nurses. He would eventually find my grandmother's room, opening the door to find his mom and his sisters Leslie, Karrie, and Anna.
They would chat for a while, one of my aunts filling my dad in on everything that had happened that day and in the hospital. My dad would be slightly disheartened to learn of the things that my grandmother had been going through the past week.
My grandma, in her hospital bed, would look thin and frail, the cancerous tumor overtaking her abdomen painfully visible through the thin sheets and blankets covering her midsection. My father, obviously caring very much about his mother, would get up and go over to her, look her up and down, and then sigh. He would then bend down and give her a hug, being surprised and overjoyed that she recognized him and hugged him back, however weak the hug was.
I was snapped out of my daydream by Dr. Phil, yelling at some city council member for posting an offensive joke on a public internet forum, then for not apologizing for it and refusing to take it down.
I sigh, wishing once again that I had my iPod, which was currently stowed away under the passenger seat in my dad's car. I wished that I hadn't forgotten my backpack on my bed, so at least I'd have something to do.
I looked over at the bleach-blonde and fake tanned woman sitting across the waiting room from me and decided to make up a biography of her. It was incredibly stereotyped, and actually quite mean on my part, but I couldn't care less. She couldn't read minds; she'd never know that I was inventing all of this stuff about her, her past, and why she was sitting in an emergency waiting room.
Not long after I was done writing a mini-biography on her, my father bursts through the Emergency Room doors and strides over to us. I sit up straighter and pull my jacket down farther, another nervous habit of mine.
"So what's up?" I ask my dad as he sits down next to me.
"Well, your grandma isn't doing too well."
We sit in silence for a while, my eyes drifting towards Steven who is playing with his Transformers on one of the chairs near us.
"What are you going to do?" I ask again.
"I dunno...." My dad says, pulling out his cell phone to look at the time. "I told them I should probably get home, it's getting late and you need to do your homework and Steven needs to get in the shower. We're probably going to leave now."
I was relieved but scared at the same time. It was a weird feeling, almost as if there was some knot that was loosened in my stomach but a few other ones tightened. It was nice to be getting out of the hospital (no matter how much I loved writing about hospitals because they were so easy to provoke emotions out of, I still loathed them and was terrified of them) but what if something happened to grandma that we couldn't be there for? I shivered involuntarily at the thought.
We silently all left through the emergency room doors and piled silently into the car, two thirds of us deep in thought.
* * *
I stare at my mom. "What?"
"Grandma Greenbrook died about an hour ago at Aunt Anna's house." My mom repeated, adding more detail to the subject.
My heart wrenched as I felt tears begin to swell up just underneath my eyelids.
"Oh...uhm...." I was at a loss for words. Whenever someone tells me something this serious in nature, I never really know how to respond. I end up just sitting there, helplessly saying, "I'm sorry," over and over again, trying to comfort them but not really knowing how, because I'm just not an empathetic or compassionate type of person.
But something changed, something's different. Maybe because I've finally lost someone in my family? I've become more open to people's feeling, more adept at pinpointing someone's emotions. I can tell my dad's already had a bit of a breakdown, and needs my support. So I go over to him and hug him harder than I've ever hugged him before.
Nothing is said for a while, I'm just standing there holding my dad. He sniffles a little into my shoulder, finally letting go of me to get out his tissue and once again blow his nose into it. My mom then engulfs him into a hug, which he again gratefully accepts.
My parents then leave the room, going back into the kitchen and whipping out their cell phones, calling their relatives and close friends who had known my grandmother.
I turn back to my book report, it now seeming unimportant and pointless. Staring blankly at the screen, more tears well up in my eyes and I silently let them fall down my cheeks. My mouth moves up to cover my mouth, another involuntary action, as I sob harder.
I then turn back on my iPod and quickly find the song that I was looking for. As I listen to the beautifully placed lyrics, I can't help but imagine myself in the lead singer's shoes and relate to him as I never have before. Taking these words to heart for the first time, I realize just how special this band has now become to me.
Long ago
Just like the hearse you
Die to get in again
We are
So far from you
Burning on
Just like the match you
Strike to incinerate
The lives
Of everyone you know
And what's the worse you take
From every heart you break
And like a blade you stain
Well, I've been holding on tonight
What the worst thing I could say?
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long not goodnight
Came a time when every star fall
Brought you to tears again
We are
The very hurt you sold
And what's the worse you take
From every heart you break
And like a blade you stain
Well, I've been holding on tonight
What the worst thing I could say?
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long not goodnight
Well if you carry on this way
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long not goodnight
Can you hear me?
Are you near me?
Can we pretend to leave and then
We'll meet again
When both our cars collide
What the worst thing I could say?
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long not goodnight
Well if you carry on this way
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long not goodnight
I was full-on sobbing after listening to Helena by My Chemical Romance, my empathy towards the whole band and towards my father ever-growing. I set the song on repeat as I try to focus on my book report, eventually finishing it after a good half hour.
I shut down the computer after emailing the report to myself (I'd need to print it out at school the next day, our printer was out of ink at the moment), and walked into the kitchen to find both of my parents leaning on the counter, not talking.
I walk up to my dad and give him another hug, wondering how in the world I was going to get up in five hours to get ready for school.
"Aeryn, how about you stay home tomorrow." my mom looks me straight in the eye. I can tell she's not joking.
"Oh, okay."
"Do you have any pressing matters, tests or anything, for the rest of the week? I'm thinking the funeral will most likely be on Friday." my dad finally asks, something different about his voice. I know it must have something to do with him crying, but I can't quite place how different it really is.
"Nope, nothing really to do. We're reviewing for midterms next week, but -"
"Okay, good. You're not going back until Monday. Now go and get some rest." my mom says, ending the conversation.
I don't argue. I don't want to upset them any more than they already are - not that I'm complaining about getting off from school for the rest of the week. I walk silently to my room, wondering how we're going to get through the next couple days.
Not noticing a whole lot of commotion coming from the neighboring room (the kitchen), I was surprised when my mother and father came into the computer room together. I hadn't even known she had gotten home from work yet! I quickly glance at the clock in the lower right corner of my monitor and see that it was indeed quarter to midnight, which is around the time I would expect my mom to be home tonight.
Looking back up at my parents, I notice their solemn expressions. I can see my mom is either close to tears or has already been crying because her eyes are glazed over. My father, on the other hand, is carrying a tissue that he repeatedly blows his nose in - I can tell that he's been crying, because there are red rims around his eyes and he doesn't have that usual smirk on his face.
My dad never cries. This must be something serious. I brace myself, subconsciously grimacing before my parents even spoke a word to me. I turn off my iPod, pull the headphones from around my ears so that they're laying around my neck, and turn ninety degrees so that I'm facing both of them, dreading what was to come.
"Aeryn, I...your grandmother's dead."
* * *
"Dad, are we almost there?" my little brother, Steven, asks.
"Mhmm, we're almost there." my father replies, hands clutching the steering wheel with a little more force than usual.
I sit in the passenger seat, glancing out the window at my surroundings. The scenery isn't much different from that around my house, about 30 minutes from here. There are large evergreen and spruce trees lining the streets, larger, more expensive houses and named neighborhoods every couple miles, and the random independently owned restaurants and specialty stores dotting the side of the road.
We pull into the hospital parking lot, steering our way to the emergency entrance and parking our car quickly before jumping out of the car and rushing to the automatic doors. After what I thought was a bit of a peaceful drive, we are now almost running into a hospital! How quickly atmosphere changes.
We approach the receptionist behind the desk, my dad taking a deep breath before saying, "We're here to see Helen Greenbrook."
"Well," the receptionist starts, eyeing Steven warily, "You can go through those doors, sir, but they'll have to stay here in the waiting room."
I look up at my dad and nod, letting him know that I'll look after Steven and he should go inside. After all, it's his mother that's in there, he should be able to see her and not have to worry about us.
As the receptionist is giving my dad directions to where my grandmother's room is, I steer Steven over to a corner in the waiting room, unkowingly right under a television tuned to Dr. Phil. If only I had brought my iPod, or even the hours of homework I needed to get done for the next day....
Glancing around me, I start to "people-watch", hoping that with my head almost enclosed in the hood of my black jacket they wouldn't notice me staring at them. I saw a woman with an orange tan and too-blonde hair wearing a black t-shirt, staring intently up at Dr. Phil. It was a little unnerving, because sometimes I would forget that she was looking up at the TV screen and not looking at me, so I would duck my head or turn it sideways towards a pot full of petunias.
I look over to the receptionist desk and, as would be expected, my dad was no longer there. I wondered what would be on the other side of those doors, what awaited him in my grandma's room. I imagined my father walking through the starch-white hallways, avoiding the trays with scalpels and syringes on them, almost bumping into a few doctors and nurses. He would eventually find my grandmother's room, opening the door to find his mom and his sisters Leslie, Karrie, and Anna.
They would chat for a while, one of my aunts filling my dad in on everything that had happened that day and in the hospital. My dad would be slightly disheartened to learn of the things that my grandmother had been going through the past week.
My grandma, in her hospital bed, would look thin and frail, the cancerous tumor overtaking her abdomen painfully visible through the thin sheets and blankets covering her midsection. My father, obviously caring very much about his mother, would get up and go over to her, look her up and down, and then sigh. He would then bend down and give her a hug, being surprised and overjoyed that she recognized him and hugged him back, however weak the hug was.
I was snapped out of my daydream by Dr. Phil, yelling at some city council member for posting an offensive joke on a public internet forum, then for not apologizing for it and refusing to take it down.
I sigh, wishing once again that I had my iPod, which was currently stowed away under the passenger seat in my dad's car. I wished that I hadn't forgotten my backpack on my bed, so at least I'd have something to do.
I looked over at the bleach-blonde and fake tanned woman sitting across the waiting room from me and decided to make up a biography of her. It was incredibly stereotyped, and actually quite mean on my part, but I couldn't care less. She couldn't read minds; she'd never know that I was inventing all of this stuff about her, her past, and why she was sitting in an emergency waiting room.
Not long after I was done writing a mini-biography on her, my father bursts through the Emergency Room doors and strides over to us. I sit up straighter and pull my jacket down farther, another nervous habit of mine.
"So what's up?" I ask my dad as he sits down next to me.
"Well, your grandma isn't doing too well."
We sit in silence for a while, my eyes drifting towards Steven who is playing with his Transformers on one of the chairs near us.
"What are you going to do?" I ask again.
"I dunno...." My dad says, pulling out his cell phone to look at the time. "I told them I should probably get home, it's getting late and you need to do your homework and Steven needs to get in the shower. We're probably going to leave now."
I was relieved but scared at the same time. It was a weird feeling, almost as if there was some knot that was loosened in my stomach but a few other ones tightened. It was nice to be getting out of the hospital (no matter how much I loved writing about hospitals because they were so easy to provoke emotions out of, I still loathed them and was terrified of them) but what if something happened to grandma that we couldn't be there for? I shivered involuntarily at the thought.
We silently all left through the emergency room doors and piled silently into the car, two thirds of us deep in thought.
* * *
I stare at my mom. "What?"
"Grandma Greenbrook died about an hour ago at Aunt Anna's house." My mom repeated, adding more detail to the subject.
My heart wrenched as I felt tears begin to swell up just underneath my eyelids.
"Oh...uhm...." I was at a loss for words. Whenever someone tells me something this serious in nature, I never really know how to respond. I end up just sitting there, helplessly saying, "I'm sorry," over and over again, trying to comfort them but not really knowing how, because I'm just not an empathetic or compassionate type of person.
But something changed, something's different. Maybe because I've finally lost someone in my family? I've become more open to people's feeling, more adept at pinpointing someone's emotions. I can tell my dad's already had a bit of a breakdown, and needs my support. So I go over to him and hug him harder than I've ever hugged him before.
Nothing is said for a while, I'm just standing there holding my dad. He sniffles a little into my shoulder, finally letting go of me to get out his tissue and once again blow his nose into it. My mom then engulfs him into a hug, which he again gratefully accepts.
My parents then leave the room, going back into the kitchen and whipping out their cell phones, calling their relatives and close friends who had known my grandmother.
I turn back to my book report, it now seeming unimportant and pointless. Staring blankly at the screen, more tears well up in my eyes and I silently let them fall down my cheeks. My mouth moves up to cover my mouth, another involuntary action, as I sob harder.
I then turn back on my iPod and quickly find the song that I was looking for. As I listen to the beautifully placed lyrics, I can't help but imagine myself in the lead singer's shoes and relate to him as I never have before. Taking these words to heart for the first time, I realize just how special this band has now become to me.
Long ago
Just like the hearse you
Die to get in again
We are
So far from you
Burning on
Just like the match you
Strike to incinerate
The lives
Of everyone you know
And what's the worse you take
From every heart you break
And like a blade you stain
Well, I've been holding on tonight
What the worst thing I could say?
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long not goodnight
Came a time when every star fall
Brought you to tears again
We are
The very hurt you sold
And what's the worse you take
From every heart you break
And like a blade you stain
Well, I've been holding on tonight
What the worst thing I could say?
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long not goodnight
Well if you carry on this way
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long not goodnight
Can you hear me?
Are you near me?
Can we pretend to leave and then
We'll meet again
When both our cars collide
What the worst thing I could say?
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long not goodnight
Well if you carry on this way
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long not goodnight
I was full-on sobbing after listening to Helena by My Chemical Romance, my empathy towards the whole band and towards my father ever-growing. I set the song on repeat as I try to focus on my book report, eventually finishing it after a good half hour.
I shut down the computer after emailing the report to myself (I'd need to print it out at school the next day, our printer was out of ink at the moment), and walked into the kitchen to find both of my parents leaning on the counter, not talking.
I walk up to my dad and give him another hug, wondering how in the world I was going to get up in five hours to get ready for school.
"Aeryn, how about you stay home tomorrow." my mom looks me straight in the eye. I can tell she's not joking.
"Oh, okay."
"Do you have any pressing matters, tests or anything, for the rest of the week? I'm thinking the funeral will most likely be on Friday." my dad finally asks, something different about his voice. I know it must have something to do with him crying, but I can't quite place how different it really is.
"Nope, nothing really to do. We're reviewing for midterms next week, but -"
"Okay, good. You're not going back until Monday. Now go and get some rest." my mom says, ending the conversation.
I don't argue. I don't want to upset them any more than they already are - not that I'm complaining about getting off from school for the rest of the week. I walk silently to my room, wondering how we're going to get through the next couple days.
♠ ♠ ♠
Like I said, all names have been changed (including my own) but everything else is just as it was when it happened.Yes, I even remember Dr. Phil on the TV in the waiting room. x]