Chapter 21

I hate the colours they paint hospitals. As if the dusty pinks and sea-foam greens distract anyone from the fact that they are in the hospital. Those colours are cursed, forever associated with illness and worry.

A fluorescent light flickered, the tube buzzing with strangled energy. Gam was on her gurney nearby. She was awake now, after the ambulance ride, and uncomfortable. Away from her bedroom, she didn’t look like Gam any more. Nurses and aides walked by. Some did a double take or stared outright. I wanted to shield Gam from them, take her away from this place.

A man came and wheeled Gam into a room where we had to wait until more aides could be found to help move her. Mim went to get tea. Bleached white scratchy sheets the thickness of cardboard lay on the bed. How long would Gam need to be in here? A wave of nausea hit me at the thought of being separated from her.

“You okay?” Rich looked at me with concern.

I nodded. Part of me wished he’d leave. I didn’t deserve his kindness.

Gam stayed silent when they moved her, her eyes wide and frightened. The bed was big enough, thank goodness, and her mass expanded to fit it.

“Gam, do you need anything?”

She shook her head, but tears leaked out the sides.

“Gam! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t gone for long. I knew Mim was coming so I didn’t think… I’m so sorry, Gam.” I buried my face in her shoulder and sobbed pleas for her to understand.

“Sara Jean,” Gam wheezed and stroked my head with her hand. The oxygen tube got tangled in her fingers. Smiling through my tears, I sat up to help her.

“I’m going to wait outside,” Rich said and closed the door. It was just Gam and me.

“You’re my angel, love.” Gam looked at me with such adoration, my heart ached.

A shaky breath. “I wasn’t there. I should have been there.”

She closed her eyes, as if the words hurt her. “I need you to do something for me.”

I nodded. Anything.

“You have to find your mother.”

The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor filled the room. I stared at Gam. “How can I? She doesn’t want us.”

Gam shook her head almost imperceptibly. “It was me. I made her leave.” Another tear rolled from the corner of her eye.

“What? What do you mean?”

Gam made noises in her throat, as if the words were stuck. “I did it for you.” She took a tremulous breath, meeting my eyes. “To spare you. All the shame. Of being born that way.” Each word came out slowly, painfully. Her nostrils flared defiantly, daring me to argue.

Moving away from the bed, I stared at Gam, trying to make sense of what she was saying. My mom hadn’t left because she didn’t want to be a mother? She left because Gam was ashamed of her? The room started to drip away, like a watercolour painting. Things came in and out of focus.

Gam loved me, why would she do this?

“Sara Jean.” She reached out a hand to me. “Come here.”

I shook my head and stayed where I was, out of her reach.

“You need to find her. Tell her to come home.”

Breath stuck in my chest, like I was suffocating under the pressure of her request. Gam was asking me to do what I’d have died to do all the years I was growing up.

Mim walked in. She froze holding two Styrofoam cups of tea. Her eyes flicked from Gam to me. “What?” She looked to Gam.

Gam turned her head to face the wall. Mim put the tea down on the bedside table and glowered at me. “What did you do?”

A derisive laugh escaped from my lips. “What did I do?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “What did I do?” Pushing past her, I stormed from the room, not even pausing for Rich. He jumped up from the hallway chair and jogged to catch up with me.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Take me home, okay?”

He opened the door to the truck for me, and I got in. Balled-up energy coursed through me. I couldn’t speak, or even think. I willed the tears to stay away until I got home as we drove silently through town.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” he asked when we pulled up to my house.

I shook my head. “No.”

Rich kept a hand on the wheel, but turned off the truck. “You seem pretty shaken up. You sure?”

“Yeah,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt.

“Sara Jean.” He grabbed my hand. I took a deep breath. He squeezed my fingers. “Why don’t you come to my house for dinner tonight?”

The idea was so preposterous, so exactly opposite of what I wanted to do, I laughed. “What?”

Rich stared at me, confused.

“No.” Exhaustion overwhelmed me. Walking up the front steps looked like an insurmountable task. I made it and opened the door without saying thank you or good-bye.

The house was silent. Of course it was. I was the only one home. I’d never been the only one home – ever.

I’d been left with nothing. Gam had lied to me my whole life. She’d taken my mother from me, and now she wanted me to find her.

Thoughts muddled themselves in my head. I spun around in the hallway, not knowing where to go, feeling lost in my own home. Was this what freedom was like? Sleep. I wanted to sleep. I stumbled up the stairs, fell onto my bed, kicked off my shoes and hoped that when I woke, something would make sense again.