Home > The Mark (The Mark #1)(6)

The Mark (The Mark #1)(6)
Author: Jen Nadol

A car turned onto my street, following the path the school bus had taken fifteen minutes before. I squinted, just able to make out writing on the side. Had to be my cab. Finally.

“Ashville General, please,” I told the driver as I climbed in, headed back to the hospital where I’d finally put it all together—what the mark meant.

He nodded. “The lady told me when she called. Your grandmother’s sick, huh?”

I should have been annoyed, but I knew the principal’s assistant only meant well. I could almost hear the conversation: poor dear, no other family, such a burden, don’t let her brood.

“Yeah, diabetes. No big deal, just a hassle to keep up with sometimes.”

“My brother-in-law’s uncle had it. Always shootin’ up with the needles.”

He had the accent of somewhere else, but I didn’t feel like asking about it. Or talking about the uncle. “Uh-huh.”

Ashville slid past us, a blur of new leaves, bright sky, and solid family homes. We were at the hospital within fifteen minutes.

Nan was sleeping when I entered the room. She was propped against a pile of pillows and I could hear the faintest of snores. There were three IVs by her side, their needles jabbed into her bony arm. She looked gray, as she often did when these episodes started. And she looked old, partly because we were in a hospital, but mostly just because she was.

“I’m here, Nan,” I whispered, placing my hand gently on her free arm. “I’m going to the nurses’ station for a few minutes, but I’ll be right back.”

Tina was on, as I hoped she’d be.

“Sucks to see you,” I greeted her.

“Same.” She smiled gently, her dusky skin radiant, even under the hospital’s fluorescent lights. “How are you, Cass?”

“Fine. How’s Nan?”

“Pretty much the usual. We’ve run her sugars, given her insulin. We should have the labs back in”—she checked the wall clock—“another twenty minutes or so.”

I nodded. “I didn’t see another bed in there. She have her own room this time?”

“Yeah. She called after last time and arranged for a private room, space permitting.”

I thought about that for a minute and knew Nan had done it for me. Not wanting me to see another Mrs. Gettis here. She hadn’t mentioned anything.

“Okay, well, I’ll be in with her. She’s sleeping now, but I want to be there when she wakes up.”

“It might be a little while, we gave her a sedative. She needed some rest.”

“I’ve got a book.”

I settled into the tan chair near the window in her room, shifting my weight carefully so the plastic wouldn’t make those squeaky noises that sound like farts. Nan stirred and muttered something, but it was nearly an hour later when she finally woke.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said, her voice cracking. She reached for the water by her bedside, but the IV lines held her back.

I got up and handed her the glass. “What’s a nice gal like you doing in a place like this?”

She drank deeply. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“How’re you feeling, Nan?”

“Fabulous.”

“Tina stopped in, said the labs look good.”

“How long have you been here?”

“An hour or so. You weren’t out that long.”

“I feel like I still am. They must have given me a horse tranquilizer.”

I nodded. “She didn’t say what it was.”

Nan sighed. “So what did I pull you away from at school?”

“Nothing. Literally. I was on my way to a pep rally to read a little Stephen King. It was much quieter here.”

Nan nodded and glanced out the window, her face already more vivid. It seemed like she might climb out of bed and start her yoga as she did every morning. As she probably had this morning before whatever happened, happened.

“Did you use the call button?”

She shook her head. “No. I was with Agnes. Meals-on-Wheels day. We were waiting for her nephew John to take us to the Volunteer Center, but I must have passed out first. I just remember seeing those angels she has painted on her ceiling, then I was being lifted out of there, into the ambulance. Nan-on-Wheels.”

“So Agnes called school?”

“I guess. She’s almost part of the routine now, huh?” This was the third time Agnes had been there for an episode. No surprise. She lived across the street, and she and Nan were wearing a path in the blacktop from their trips back and forth.

I stayed with Nan through dinner. Her doctor did more blood work—her sugars were stabilizing slower than normal and he wanted to be sure she was A-okay before leaving. Finally, around nine she sent me packing.

“You’ve got school tomorrow, Cass. I don’t want you missing another day.”

I nodded. “I’ll come by after classes. Tell them I’ll have the filet for dinner.”

“I’m sure they’ll bring it with my Chianti. Scoot.”

I fell asleep in the cab ride home, dreaming of Agnes’s frescoed angels drinking wine.

Chapter 4

“Was it Nan?” Tasha was waiting at my locker when I jogged in just before the first bell. There had been two messages on the machine when I got back to the apartment and three on my cell, but I was too beat to call her back.

“Yeah. She’s fine.” We were hustling to algebra for a test I hadn’t spent nearly enough time studying for. I’d squeezed in about thirty minutes at the hospital and probably another ten at home before I fell asleep. The sharp corner of the book was jabbing my leg when I woke up.

“She getting out today?”

I shook my head. “Tomorrow.”

“Want me to come to the hospital with you?”

“Nah, it’s horribly boring.” Tasha nodded. She had gone with me before. “But thanks for offering. What’d I miss at assembly yesterday?”

“What do you think you missed?”

“Nothing?”

“Bingo,” she whispered as we slid into our seats.

I bombed the exam. Algebraic formulas kept slipping from my mind like buttery noodles. I knew Mr. Manus would give me a break if I told him about Nan, but I hoped I had done well enough to at least pass. My average was high enough to take a hit or two.

I took the bus downtown after school. Tina and I had talked at lunch. She’d said everything looked good for Nan’s release the next day. I would take the morning off from school to go with Agnes and John for the discharge. What a party. We called John a lot after Nan had donated her car to Heritage for the Blind when the doctor said she couldn’t drive anymore. She’d regretted it almost immediately, thinking she should have saved it for me.

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