The Truth About That Summer

eighty-eight

Grams hand is feather-light in mine as she stirs, eyelids fluttering against the bright hospital room lighting.

"Hey Grams," I speak softly, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. A reminder that I'm here now.

Her faded eyes scan the room before finally settling on my face. A smile cracks over her lips.

"Dylan." It's like a sigh. She contentedly settles deeper into her pillow, body relaxing. "You're back."

"Well, you certainly know how to get my attention." I attempt a chuckle, eyeing the door, knowing my parents are just outside of it. "I'm sorry I wasn't with you when you fell, Grams."

I can't say that I'm sorry I wasn't there, but I can say that I'm sorry I wasn't there for her. And it's every bit the truth.

"It was hardly a fall." She murmurs, batting her wrinkled hands as if it's not a big deal. As if she's not in a hospital bed right now, ribs badly bruised, wrist broken, and a lump on her forehead the size of my fist. "Just slipped from my chair, is all."

I feel a pang of guilt, knowing it was my job to help her move around.

"I'm sorry, Grams." I rest our entwined hands against my chest, tears prickling behind my eyelids.

I sniffle hard and her eyes open wide again.

Just as she always has before, when she looks at me, it's like she really sees me. Everything I've gone through these past few weeks, everything it took to get me to be able to come back. She sees it behind it all.

Firmly, she shakes her head, voice solid. "I'm not."

"But I-"

She interrupts. "You look better, Dylan." A gentle squeeze on my fingers. "That's the only apology I need."

As her eyes close again, her breathing slowing as she falls back to sleep, shouting from in the hallway snaps both our heads in that direction.

"You have no right!" Mom's voice, frustrated and overwhelmed and not at all put together like she usually is.

"No right?"

My breath catches. I know that voice. I miss that voice.

I love that voice. Did I ever tell him that?

"Maybe you're right, Mrs. Anderson. But I found June on the floor and I'd just like to see that she's alright." Luke's voice is deep and sure and enough to nearly break me in half.

Of course it was Luke who took care of Grams when I wasn't doing it. It would be no one else.

Mom again, like she's panicking. I can't remember a time I ever heard her like this.

"Like we're lying to you? She's fine. She'll be fine. Thank you for calling us, for getting the ambulance. But we're fine here without you and Dyl-"

I drop Grams hand, making eye contact with her, letting her know I'll return without speaking a word out loud. Standing, I make my way to the door and swing it open, facing everyone's dropped jaws head-on.

"I was just leaving." I finish Mom's sentence for her, an odd sense of satisfaction washing over me as she opens and closes her mouth, unsure of what to say. Turning to Luke, ignoring the sting behind my eyes and the clenching of my heart, I finish, "Grams is ready to see you now."

Wordlessly, he searches my face, scans me up and down, like he's looking for damage. Brows furrowed, he nods once and slips through the doorway.

The silence stings but I hope it doesn't show on my face.