Chapter 1
The body on the hospital bed looked unrecognizable. Thin arms, merely skin over bone, rested atop the blue blanket. One of them squeezed it tightly in his sleep. His fingers had always been knobbly from years of work but now they looked like the twisty branches of an old tree. Years of working outside in the sun had left his skin tanned but now it looked more like old leather, spread too thin over his body. Nothing was left of his dark brown hair. I remembered it had just started to gray when he got his diagnosis.
His face had become so gaunt, cheeks mere hollows. I didn’t like looking at it and I felt bad for it every time. It was a shadow of the person I had known. Every day I could see him less and less as he disappeared into this shell of a human.
I settled better into the uncomfortable armchair I had dragged from the corner of the room. The math book sat open atop my crossed legs and I tried to focus. Final exams were only a few weeks away. I would be graduating and next Fall I’d be going to high school. It was something I should have been excited about but couldn’t bring myself to care.
Numbers danced in my eyes in an incoherent mess as I stared at the page. My mind wandered and I didn’t try to stop it. The only sounds in the room were the tapping of my pen against the page and the quiet hum of the air humidifier. There used to be a clock on the far wall above the television but he had wanted it removed. I don’t need a reminder that I’m running out of time. Those had been his exact words. I missed the clock. This room felt like it was suspended in time, forever waiting for the turn for the worse. I had liked the proof that time was still in fact flowing.
“You’re here again”, his voice startled me and I nearly flung the book off of my lap. His already deep voice had gotten an added gravelly tone in the past few months. I turned to look at him and found his blue eyes fixed on me. Sometimes it felt like those blue eyes were just about the only thing we had in common. Otherwise I looked nothing like him. My hair was a stark white, had been ever since I was born. My skin had a paleness to it that his had never had. Where he had been stocky before his illness struck him, I was always willowy and tall. By the time I was 14 I was already as tall as he was.
“Of course Alan”, I said and fixed a weak smile on my face. He had never wanted me to call him uncle to his face, not even when I was little.
“I told you, you don’t need to come every day”, he said. I had no answer for that. I knew that he meant it. Before it would have hurt me to realize but by now I was too used to it. For as long as I could remember there had been a distance between us. I didn’t really want to be here. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave him alone in his illness. It felt cruel.
“It’s not good for you to be alone all the time. The doctor said”, I reverted back to my go-to excuse. He grunted but made no further argument. For a moment we sat in silence that seemed to thicken around us like a blanket by the second. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Should I turn on the TV?” I asked with fake cheer. He didn’t argue so I grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels until I settled on some show about cars. He liked cars, that much I knew. That was about as deep as he had allowed me to get.
We sat like that for a while, both pretending to be absorbed by something. Me with my math book and him with the TV. At some point I felt him watching me and raised my head. He was looking at me in that way I hated, like he was suspicious of me about something. Every once in a while as I was growing up I caught him looking at me in that way. I smiled at him. It was an automatic reaction at this point. Even after all these years I had never known what else to do.
He opened his mouth to say something but erupted into coughing instead. His frail body looked like it could break from the force of the fit. I pushed my book aside and hurried to the bedside table to pour a glass of water. I waited by his side for the coughing to seize and offered him the glass. He tried to take it but his hands shook too badly for him to grab it so I held the glass to his lips instead.
“I’ll go get the nurse”, I said as I put the glass back down.
“Don’t bother. There’s nothing they can do”, he sank onto his pillow like a wind up doll that had lost its charge. I sat back into my chair warily. The TV chattered on in the background and I picked up my book again, knowing full well I wouldn’t get anything done.
I counted the minutes in my head, trying to remember when visiting hours ended and I could make my escape.
“You’re starting to look a lot like your mother”, he said suddenly. His voice was barely above a whisper but I perked up immediately. He never brought up my mother, or my father for that matter, even when I begged him to.
“My mother?” I urged him, leaning forward without realizing. He merely stared at me with a strange sad look in his eyes that I had never seen before. His eyes were the only thing about him that remained almost the same but in them too a weariness had set in.
“I’m going soon”, he changed the subject and I knew what he meant.
“Don’t say that”, I said but even I knew my words were hollow. He was already living on borrowed time. Upon his diagnosis the doctor had given him six months to live. That was eight months ago and he was getting worse by the day.
“Come here tomorrow, after school. There’s things I need to tell you”, he said and I could feel my curiosity bubbling inside me like an over boiling pot.
“There’s also someone you need to meet”, he continued before I had a chance to ask him anything.
“Run along now. Go home”, he let his eyes close and I knew the conversation was over. Silently I picked up my belongings and left the room.
The someone I needed to meet turned out to be a social worker. She was a plump lady in her forties with the friendliest face I had ever seen. Warm brown eyes glinted above chubby cheeks, laugh lines crinkling in the corners as she smiled. Short, dark brown curly hair sat on top of her head like a cloud. She was already waiting in the room by the time I arrived after school and rose to meet me.
“Hello dear. I’m Tina. Nice to meet you”, her voice was just as friendly as her face and I could tell she meant it. I mumbled a shy greeting, looking to my uncle for an explanation. He was propped up on pillows and just the effort of sitting up seemed tremendous.
“Sit down”, he said gruffly and I moved towards his bed. As I got deeper into the room I noticed my uncle’s solicitor in the corner. He was absorbed in papers, not giving me even a glance. He was a tall man and the chair he sat on seemed too small for him, his knees reaching comically high.
I sat in the same armchair I had yesterday and waited. Tina the social worker gave me an encouraging smile from across the bed and I smiled back at her.
“You’re too young to live on your own after I’m gone”, my uncle started, blunt and direct as he always was.
“I’ve put everything in order. Mrs. Martinez will look after you”, he continued, nodding his head towards Tina.
“I’ve done my will. There's no one else left, so everything I have will go to you. The house, my share of the auto shop. John will buy you out when you turn 18. It’s not a fortune but it will get you started in your life. That’s the last thing I can do for my brother”, the last part he said quietly, almost as if I wasn’t supposed to hear it. He almost never talked about my father, his little brother.
I wasn’t sure what to say. I knew his life was nearing its end and I wasn’t sure what to feel. He was my guardian, the one who had raised me but there wasn’t a lot of love between us. As I had gotten older we had been more like distant roommates than anything else.
“Where… where will I go?” I asked, dreading the answer. Getting sent to a foster home with strangers wasn’t an appealing prospect.
“To your grandmother”, came the answer.
Out of all the things he could have said, that was about the last one I had expected.
“I have a grandmother?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. The question was silly, everyone had grandparents, but this was the first time I had heard about her. Over the years my uncle had refused to talk about family whenever I asked.
“Of course you do. Your mother’s side”, he said and I felt a strange sense of anticipation. My uncle refused to talk about a lot of things but my mother was the most forbidden topic of all.
Every time I had asked he had gotten this look in his eyes, anger and just a twinge of fear. There was only once I had gotten information out of him. I was ten and had chosen my time wisely, when he was drunk. He had told me that my parents were presumed dead after a disaster that happened in my mother's hometown and he had been landed with me. I couldn’t get him to elaborate no matter how much I prodded. The next morning he was snarky with me and never answered my questions again. I had learned quickly not to ask after that no matter how much the curiosity ate at me.
“Listen to me girl. I made a promise years ago to raise you, away from that place. But I can’t keep that promise anymore. You watch yourself”, he said suddenly.
“What is that supposed to mean? Promise to who?” I asked, now frustrated by his vagueness.
“My brother would have done great things. He was always the smart one. But then he met your mother and that… family. Strange folk up there is all I can say”, his eyes had that look again.
“I don’t understand. Why can’t you tell me what happened to them?” I pleaded with him, trying to catch his eyes.
“I… don’t really know”, he finally said but sounded lost, staring at the blanket like he was far away in his mind.
“I went back there only once. It was bloody chaos. But the police told me enough”, he mumbled, not making much sense to me anymore. It wasn’t unusual. Lately he had gotten more and more lost in his head as the sickness ate away at him.
My mind was spinning. I couldn’t understand what my uncle was trying to tell me but it left a gnawing feeling in my stomach.
“Why don’t you come with me for a second?” Tina seemed to sense my distress and jumped in. She led me outside the room into the hallway.
“Your uncle is just a bit confused. I have begun my research on your case and based on the information I got from him, I found your mother’s family. There was a natural disaster years ago but the area is completely safe now”, she explained, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“They are your only living family and if at all possible, you will be placed with them. You just let me handle everything, alright?” she said.
I chewed on my bottom lip, processing this information. It made sense with the limited knowledge I had.
“Alright”, I replied and tried to smile. At this point I was better off trusting them. We entered the room again and took our seats. Uncle was still staring at his blanket and I wondered if he had noticed we went out at all.
“Do… Do you want me to contact Renee?” I asked. This got his attention. My uncle’s face soured and I regretted asking immediately.
“What for? She’s got her new life. She won’t care I’m gone”, he scoffed. I disagreed but didn’t argue. Renee left when I was six. I had never told my uncle she still sent me cards for my birthday. A few years ago she had even called to explain things. I knew she didn’t leave because she didn’t care about us. She left because Uncle had become near impossible to live with but that was a secret I wouldn’t share with him.
“If you say so”, I turned away just in case he could somehow see my deception. A silence landed over us for a moment. I didn’t break it, instead trying to go over what I had just learned. I had family left on my mother’s side. I would get to meet them.
“I know I didn’t do the best job raising you”, he said suddenly and I turned to look at him, surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. Uncle didn't say stuff like this. Ever.
“Renee said I was cold. I can’t say I wasn’t. It was hard to raise you. You look like your mother but I saw my brother in you. More and more as you got older”, he continued. I wondered if me bringing up Renee had brought this on and I regretted it even more. I felt awkward, unsure of what to say. He never spoke about how he was feeling, the subject of feelings wasn't even approached. He had never taught me how to do it either.
“I guess what I’m trying to say… is that it wasn’t your fault. The way I acted. I didn’t hate you. I wanted to tell you that before I go”, he didn’t look at me but his voice had a sincerity in it that I had to believe. I felt a strangling feeling in my throat and turned away from him as well. Many times I had thought he must have despised me. Forced to raise the constant reminder of his dead little brother. I wasn't sure if I felt angry that he only said this now. Or grateful that he had said it at all.
“Thanks”, it was all I managed to say but I hoped he understood.
Three weeks from that day, he was dead.
