This choice: You are discharged a day later and return home. • Go Back...Chapter #5You are discharged a day later and return home. by: Wassel   After the incident in the bathroom you hurried back to bed and retreated beneath the covers. Attempting to block out the image of your grandmother’s naked body, as well as the alien sensations that it was giving off. This very much being a case of one step forward, two steps back. As now all you were able to think about was how unfair this whole thing was. And why, out of all the people in the world, it had to happen to YOU. You who'd never done anything bad to anyone. Not anything seriously at least (doubting that fighting and making fun of your siblings really counted). And while your mom did pay you another visit to tell you that Randall was still waiting outside, you told her point blank that you didn’t want to see anyone. Not even him. Despite your closeness and the fact that you’d been more like brothers for the past 13 years, you were far too distraught. The thought of him seeing you as your own grandmother filling you with terror. Finding the expressions on your own families faces as they tried to look past this outer visage uncomfortable enough. Definitely needing some time before that happened. If ever at all. Because honestly, right now, you felt like you never wanted to go out in public ever again. Instead wanting to hide underneath these bed sheets forever.
Sadly for you this was not an option. And after a very uncomfortable night, as well as a shame filled trip to the toilet, you were discharged the following day. The doctors being more than happy with your physical recovery (it not your mental state), and didn’t want to arouse any suspicion by keeping you in too long. Seeing how their cover story was that you’d merely banged your head and experienced a concussion. The advance nature of their surgical technique meaning that you were left with zero visible scars. Other than the very small one above your eye. Which they said would fade in a matter of days.
And so, after being kitted out in one of your own baggy gray hoodies and a pair of sweatpants, you were good to go. Having kept your eyes firmly closed and your mind blank this time while you’d changed. Not wanting a repeat of the day before. Nervously hanging back as your mom led you through the corridors and out into the car park. Feeling, even with your hood pulled up and your eyes fixed firmly on the floor, like everyone was staring at you. Ogling the freak as he walked by. Not to mention that your grandmother’s big droopy boobs beneath the hoodie remained entirely unrestrained. Neither you nor your mom being anywhere near ready to get into a conversation about you wearing a bra. Especially not for such a short journey. Which meant that with every step you took they bounced and swayed. In a manner that was incredibly annoying and distracting. While your hips also seemed to roll much more than they had ever done prior. Having a much different gait as a woman than you had done as a man. Your legs being much shorter at any rate. At 5’ 3” being equal in height with your mom, rather than what you used to be; A full 7 inches taller.
You managed to make it to the car though, and the journey home was a remarkably somber affair. With you not wanting to speak and your mother not really knowing what to say either. Still very much grieving the loss. Which was the general feeling when you arrived at your destination and walked through the door. Your father, brother and sister all putting on a brave face, but it was clear they felt the same way. None of what was happening being in anyway natural. Hence why you excused yourself to your room and hid away for the remainder of the day. Hoping for some sort of comfort in familiar surroundings, but unfortunately this wasn't the case. Everything feeling so strange and alien to you now. As if you were an imposter in your own house. Or more accurately, a mix between an imposter and a ghost. Being both legally dead as 'Tim', while at the same time inhabiting the body of a dead woman. Leading you to purposefully avoid every reflective surface that you could. Not wanting the reminder.
And this wasn't the only thing you were avoiding either. Being bombarded by texts from Randall, who was clearly concerned and wanted to come round. But, as you were still not anywhere near ready to face this yet, you continued to ignore him. Him and everyone else. Spending the next several days after being discharged, hiding and feeling sorry for yourself in your bedroom. Even as various friends and well-wishers appeared, offering their condolences for your 'passing'. Your family not only having to deal with you looking like this, but also having or organize a funeral. A funeral for someone who they knew wasn't dead. While the actual dead person was still alive in everyone else's eyes. Causing even more distress and pressure. And made you feel even more guilty than you already were.
This very much reaching a fever pitch when the day of 'your' funeral arrived. Your parents fast tracking it, to get it over and done with as quickly as they possibly could. And while, under different circumstances, your grandmother most definitely would have attended, you remained hidden away in your room. Not being able to imagine having to face that; A funeral service for yourself. Which your family fully understood. Not wanting to put you through that kind of trauma either.
It was clear though, when they returned, that it hadn't been an easy day at all. Pretending to mourn their son/sibling, while actually mourning their mom/grandmother at the exact same time. Maintaining a facade throughout the entire service and wake. Which appeared to really have taken a toll out of your mom. Overhearing her and your father discussing just how difficult it had been. As well as how difficult it was going to remain going forward.
Their conversation then turning towards what to do about your grandmother's apartment, as well as yourself in the long run. Prompting you to come to a decision of your own. As, despite their best efforts, it was obvious that your presence in the house was extremely disruptive. And that perhaps it was best to get out of everyone's hair and get to grips with what had happened on your own. Feeling as if it would be so much easier. Especially for your mom. Who at times was struggling to even look at you. Needing a proper chance to grieve.
Her initial reaction to this suggestion naturally being, "No. No way, Tim. We're not just going to leave you to deal with all this by yourself. We're a family. We'll get through it together."
Fortunately though your father had your back. Recognizing what you were trying to do and how it wasn't entirely for your own benefit.
"We're not going to leave him to deal with anything alone, Jen. That's not what he's saying. He just means that it might be best for everyone if he gives us some time to grieve for your mother, without him being a very present and physical reminder. Which, I've got to agree, kind of makes sense. You really do need some time to process all this. As I'm sure Tim does too."
Your father looking towards you then. Making sure that he'd interpreted this correctly.
Telling him, "Yeah, I... I just don't feel right being in my room anymore. It all feels too... weird." Finding it to be a painful reminder of what you'd lost. "I just think that... a bit of distance might help. Y'know? Give us all time to adjust." Or at least a break from feeling quite so guilty and ashamed. Adjusting still being a long way off.
It certainly taking a lot of convincing, but eventually your mother started to see sense. Agreeing in the end that a week apart would give you both a chance to settle into this new reality that the transplant had created. Having basically everything you needed at your grandmother's after all. And would obviously be allowed to take a few things of your own that would help with this transition. Your Xbox for example. Definitely needing that.
Your parents driving you and a box full of your stuff to your grandmother's apartment complex two days after the funeral. Which was only a twenty minute or so drive across town. Just far enough away to put some distance between you all, but not too far as to leave you completely isolated and alone. Pulling up to the front of the building where she lived. Which mainly housed older people around her age, but was fairly nice inside. Big enough at least for her, with a spare bedroom just in case one of you wanted to stay over. Her apartment being on the fourth floor, and so you took the elevator up. Praying as you went that nobody that knew her appeared. What with you still being dressed in your own oversized clothing. Not looking the least bit like your grandmother normally did at all. Which was smart and well put together. In either a dress, a skirt, or a nice pair of slacks. Along with a colorful blouse or cardigan. Her face made up and her ears, fingers and neck adorned by jewellery. Some of which had been placed in a small plastic bag, along with everything else she'd been wearing during the crash. Which was also in the box that your father was currently carrying for you. Not allowing you to do so due to your much smaller and frailer physique. Having lost a hell of a lot of body mass. Something else you'd need to get used to.
On unlocking the door and heading inside, you felt a similar sort of cognitive dissonance as you'd felt inside your own home. Aware that you didn't actually belong here either. In the very apartment that you'd visited and stayed over in many times before. Ever since your grandmother had sold her former house and moved in a good eight years prior. Being almost overwhelmed by both the memories of your time together and of her. Which, from the tears forming in your mother's eyes, it was clear she was experiencing too.
Resulting in your father deciding that it was perhaps best not to dawdle. Getting you settled as best they could and then leaving you to it. Hearing the words "I love you" more times than you could count as they went.
After which, and for the first time since waking up in that hospital, you were finally alone. Just you and your grandmother's body.
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