The Hospital Room

Aside from my younger sister, she was all I had left.

My cerulean eyes settled uneasily on the frail old woman lying in the hospital bed. The metal frame was cold and harsh as I held onto it, the chill piercing through my black glove and radiating to the bone. My grandmother was tucked in under ghost-white blankets, starched and thin. The bed itself barely gave way to her. It must have been hard. It looked uncomfortable. I would hate to sleep in a bed like that.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. The hospital food isn’t as bad as everyone says it is.”
“Are you sure, grandma?”
“Mm.”

If I had known my grandmother any better, I would have said she was shivering. She wasn’t. In fact, the room wasn’t even cold. It was warm. Stifling, even. I had removed my hoodie as soon as I had entered the room with Vienna, my sister.

Beep. Beep.

“If you say so.”
“Is Reno alright, dear?”
“You know how he is; he’s so macho he won’t let his pain show.”

Really, I had no intention of seeing how weak my grandmother appeared. I wanted to remember seeing her as—as not such a skeleton. So I let my gaze wander.

Beep. Be-Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Ah, yes. He was always so controlled.”
“Controlled my ass, Gramma Vienna—have you seen his temper?”
“I raised him since he was in diapers, dear. You don’t think I haven’t seen his temper? It’s the next Hurricane Katrina waiting to happen.”

The four walls of the room were a blinding white; they were such an eyesore and they made the room feel tight and small. They could have had more decorations. The only decoration they had was some lame pastel painting of dairy cows in a field. In the background of the painting was the sun rising over a mountain range. Was that supposed to be some sort of stupid hint that my grandmother was going to a better place? Because it wasn’t helping. It was pissing me off.

Be-Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Hah—that’s true. I do worry about him though. He’s never this quiet when he’s upset.”
“You should have seen him when he was in elementary, dear. He was never so rowdy. He was quiet and kept to himself. He remembered how your parents passed.”
“I wish I had known them, Gramma.”

Who puts a crappy pastel painting in a hospital room? Paint the walls a different color or something; make it colorful. It’s almost the 4th of July. Make it festive—put red and blue everywhere since it’s so white. Take away the white. I don’t like white. It gets dirty too easily.  I could see fingerprints and handprints on the wall where little kids had swiped their hands across out of boring hospital visits.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“I know, sweetheart. I know; your brother can tell you all about them. And so can I. So how are you doing in school?”
“I’m doing fine. Reno’s watching out for me since I’m a freshman.”
“That’s good of him to do.”

The heart monitor was irritating and obnoxious. It overwhelmed the conversation Grams and Vienna were having, not that I paid very much attention to it. I kept hearing my name, but I didn’t focus on it. I was too pissed off to pay attention. But I noticed their tones. They were frustratingly nonchalant about this.

Be-Beep. Bee-eep. Beep.

“I guess. Did you know he baked one of your pies? Your famous pumpkin pie, Gramma. It was super cinnamony. Almost better than yours.”
“Did he now? That’s good. He always did love to bake. He’ll make a good housewife someday.”
“Wow, Gramma. I never would expect that from you!”

Why couldn’t they see how serious this situation was? I don’t know how they could laugh at a time like this. I eyed the television and tried focusing on it. I didn’t have to look up much since I was tall. It was an old television, small with static in the picture. A lot of static. I think Grams had been watching the football game that my High School was playing tonight. The volume was on low. I could barely hear it. I wandered to the other side of the bed beside my sister so that I could hear the TV better.

Beep.

“I’ve hung around Reno too long, dear.”
“Obviously, if you’re cracking those sorts of jokes!”
“He does have a girlish figure, though; you two could have been sisters.”

It was about that time, before our team scored a touch down, that Vienna had grabbed the back of my shirt and bunched it so that my shirt fit snug on my figure. I looked back at her to see her eyeing my back. My eyes flickered over her burgundy hair and rested on Grams. The old woman was grinning through her breathing apparatus.

“I told you, dear,” Grams chirruped with a feeble laugh in her voice.

I arched a brow. “What did you tell who?” I asked, now keying in on the conversation. Now I was curious as to what the hell they were talking about.
Vienna released my shirt and I turned around and sat down in the uncomfortable hardback chair. Like the metal frame of the bed, the chair was chilling. My ass was turning into a popsicle. I guess my jeans were a bit too frayed.

“Nothing, Reno,” Grams said innocently. She was breathing shallowly into the breathing apparatus over her face.

I eyed her for a moment, my anger swelling inside my chest with worry and concern mixed in.  It finally gave way to subtle amusement. “Are you sure, Grams? You’re not getting Alzheimer’s?”

“Like hell I’m getting Alzheimer’s, boy,” Grams said softly with a small smile. “I was merely telling Vienna you have a womanly figure and you should have been her older sister.” After realizing she had given away what she had been trying to hide, she looked stunned for a moment. “Dear boy, you’ve tricked me!”

I laughed hoarsely at her reaction. It hadn’t been the first time she teased me about my figure. I didn’t really care anymore. My eyes were watering and I looked around for a box of Kleenex. It sat atop a nightstand beside Grams’s bed, a bland gray cardboard box with a tuft of white fluffy paper sticking out. I grabbed a sheet and dabbed my eyes and blew my nose raw.  Aside the box was a half-empty glass of water, a plastic pitcher that was filled, and a bowl of fruit behind a small clock radio.

Without even looking, I tossed the tissue in the small, metal trashcan beside the nightstand. I almost didn’t make it into the torn plastic bag. I wonder why they didn’t get a real bag for that trashcan. It was pitiful. Just like this room.

Grams’s weary voice surprised me when she spoke up again. “Are you okay, dear boy?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged nonchalantly. I fumbled with my iPhone in my pocket, shuffling through my playlist and looking for some Blue October to drown out the women’s voices.

“You sure?” Vienna joined in worriedly as she eyed me and the phone in my hand.

I nodded, “Yup.” Grams nodded idly, eyes closed. My mind went elsewhere as I popped in my earphones and walked out of the room. “I’m going to smoke a cigarette. I’ll be back.”

“Reno and his smokes, I swear.”
“He’ll be fine, girl.”
“I hope so.”
“Don’t worry. He’ll—He’ll be just fine. I know it. Just be...patient.”

Beep. Beeeeep. Beep. Be-Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeee....