Early Spring 01 Broken Flower (17 page)

For a moment his coolness and steady composure did throw her. I saw the confusion ripple through her face. Where was his shame, his fear, his guilt? Was she crazy? Was she the person doing something wrong?
Ian still had his hand on his cup invention and it was still under my budding breast. He hadn't even winced when she had shouted. He remained calm, waiting.
Grandmother Emma's mouth seemed unable to find words. It opened and closed, opened and closed, and for a moment, she looked like a fish out of water, gasping. She lowered her arms and took a step forward. "What do you think you're doing?" she managed.
Ian looked at me and then back at her, still holding the cup against me. "I'm keeping track of Jordan's precocious development to determine the effectiveness of the medication," he said.
"This is disgusting. This is... filthy and disgusting. Get away from her this instant and go to your room. Go on!" she shouted.
Ian took the cup away, but paused to write in his pad. Then he walked slowly out of the room, halting in the doorway and turning back to her.
"Scientific investigation is never disgusting, never filthy, but only in the minds of people who think that way themselves," he said.
Grandmother Emma's already reddened cheeks looked so crimson, it seemed a fire was burning in her mouth. "Don't you ever, ever come near your sister when she is undressed again," she warned. "This is sinful and incestuous and I will not have it under my roof. Do you understand?"
"No," Ian said. "I've never understood ignorance," he added, and went to his room.
She stood there, literally shaking and looking after him for a few moments and then she burst forward and shut the door before turning to me.
"What else has he done to you or with you?" she asked. "I want you to tell me immediately, Jordan. You are not to lie to me, ever. What else?"
I shook my head.
I
was even too frightened to cry. My tears were stack somewhere behind my eyes. "Nothing else, Grandmother," I said.
"He touched you. Did he touch you?" She stepped up to the bed. "Well? Show me. Where did he touch you? Show me!" she shouted.
Finally, my tears, like water dammed up, burst forward and streamed freely down my cheeks.
"I know he gave you that filthy book to read, that book about sex. What else did he give you?"
"Nothing," I said. "Nothing."
"Don't you know something terrible could happen between the two of you? No, of course you don't know, she answered for herself. "Where are your pajamas?"
"Right there," I said, nodding at them on the chair where Ian had put them.
"Get them on immediately," she ordered.
She watched me get dressed. I crawled back into bed and quickly pulled the blanket up and under my chin.
She stood there, still staring at me. "What else has he done with you?" she asked again. "Where else has he touched you?"
I was afraid to tell her about his touching my nipple so I shook my head, but she was as good as the X-ray machine that had taken pictures of the inside of my head. She read lies.
"I know you're not telling me everything, Jordan. I know you're frightened, but you must never, never let him touch your body like that again. Do you understand? Do you?"
"Yes, Grandmother."
"I will have a discussion about this with your mother and father as soon as possible, but until then, he's not to come into your room unless I or some other adult is present as well. Is that clear, too?"
I nodded.
"I should have suspected something like this. A boy that age having no friends, not going to any parties, not belonging to any teams, spending all that time alone doing who knows what with himself. I should have known. I did know. In my heart. I knew but refused to admit it to myself. Your mother isn't all wrong about me. I do bury my head in the sand too much sometimes, but I won't anymore. I promise you that," she said, nodding with clear and firm
determination in her eyes.
She started for the door and then turned and looked back at me.
"I'll be here in the morning,'" she said. "I'll be around here much more often, too. Don't disobey me."
"Okay, Grandmother, ' I said.
"Dispsting. Horrible. A disgrace piled on a disgrace," she muttered, and then opened the door, switched off my lights, and went out, closing the door behind her.
I lay there in the darkness, my heart still pounding. Minutes later, the door was opened again.
It was Ian.
He stood there looking in at me. I was about to tell him he should stay out. She might see him or hear him.
But he wasn't coming in. He just wanted to tell me something.
"I hate her guts," he said. "I hate her more than anything or anyone."
Then he backed up and closed the door, leaving me in the darkness with lightning flashing on my windows and crackling in every carrier of my room.

Ian would blame Grandmother Emma for the rest of his life. Although I never thought him capable of great love for anyone, even great love for anything, including science. I realized quickly he was capable of great and deep hatred. It would fester and grow inside him and, despite the pride he took in his self- control, his command of himself, his emotions and thoughts, it eventually would overtake him and turn his pursuit of happiness into a vain dream. It was as if a filter tinted dark gray had fallen over his eyes and changed his view of the world. In the end I pitied him more than I pitied any of us, which was ironic because I always believed Ian would find success and contentment. He had such confidence and clear ambition. How could he ever get lost?

It would be years before the pieces would come together for me. Each moment, each action, even each word, would have to be placed correctly so the puzzle would make sense. At the time I was too young to understand, but gradually, small revelations would help me guide my hands so I could fit it all together to create the picture I would live with, the picture locked in my heart like the two pictures of Mama and Daddy sealed in my birthday locket.

It began almost immediately after Grandmother Emma had left my room that night she caught Ian examining me. I try, even now, to understand her. Ian, of course, refused to do that. Understanding is, after all, the first giant step toward forgiveness and that's a place he will never go.

"I can forgive the fox that eats the rabbit, the snake that eats the mouse, because I can understand them. They have a selfish purpose, yes, but it's the natural order of things. It's beyond their control," he told me once. "They're not mean about it. They're aggressive and determined so they can survive, but Grandmother Emma is like a fox that kills a rabbit and leaves it to rot. It's aggressive and determined just to satisfy some meanness.

It would take me a long time to decide if he was right or wrong.
Some of the pieces of the puzzle Ian brought to me. He was far more perceptive and aware at the time, of course, and he could turn his microscopic eyes and probing mind on the events like a giant flashlight, washing away deception, confusion, half truths, and excuses. I was at an age when I would miss much that went on around me. Innuendos, subtle meanings, a look or expression, even a blank stare or words unspoken were within Ian's vision.
He was sullen and still, poised, but keenly listening and watching, recording every second, every gesture, even, detail with a genius for detecting I'm sure every policeman, detective, law enforcement agent would love to possess. He fed everything to me, revealing what he learned and thought like some translator at a high level government meeting between dignitaries of two foreign countries.
And so to his best ability and mine, we first came to understand the chronology of the series of events that would change both our lives forever and ever.
After what she had seen going on between Ian and me, Grandmother Emma called the cabin.
Mama and Daddy had been talking, discussing their marriage and Daddy's bad behavior. Daddy answered the phone and Grandmother Emma described what she saw happening in my bedroom.
My parents put everything aside and rushed out of the cabin to come home.
The hail and rain thunderstorms were still swirling about, even growing stronger, when the inclement weather cell, as Ian called it, thickened.
Daddy was driving.
He took a sharp turn too quickly and the car lost traction. It hit the guardrail broadside and turned over the railing.
The car rolled and bounced nearly one hundred yards before it rested upside down. The lights fortunately remained on and a passing motorist saw it almost immediately after the accident had occurred.
Fire trucks, tow trucks, and an ambulance arrived with the police.
Both Mama and Daddy were alive and taken to the hospital.
It was nearly four in the morning before Grandmother Emma was woken by the phone call from the highway police.
She called for Felix, her driver, dressed, and left for the hospital in Honesdale, Pennsylvania.
She had left instructions for Nancy and at seven AM. Nancy came to our bedrooms to tell us our parents had been in a car accident. Nancy had been told to be sure
I
took my medicine. She had also been instructed to stay close to me and be sure Ian did not come into my room or have any contact with me until I was washed, dressed, and down to breakfast. She stood there and recited all that to me as if she were reading an official proclamation.
Neither Mama nor Daddy had fastened their seat belts, which was the first important clue for Ian. He said that meant they were emotionally disturbed enough to be put into a panic and when people are in a panic, they forget to do things or do stupid things. Later, when we found out they had taken nothing with them. Ian was certain he was right. Mama had not even taken her pocketbook, much less any suitcase or overnight bag.
Ian thought Grandmother Emma's phone call had come. Daddy had hung up, and they had charged out of the cabin. Mr. Pitts said they had left some lights on and the door unlocked. Ian thought that they had been in the middle of their discussions, which he thought were still more like arguments, and whatever Grandmother Emma had told Daddy. Daddy had blamed on Mama and then Mama had blamed on him. He said they must have been in the middle of a horrible argument.
The police report noted that Daddy had been drinking and a blood test revealed he was above the limit. Mama must have been quite upset to let him drive. Ian concluded.
Those were the pieces of the puzzle the way he saw them.
That morning he was at breakfast before me. Nancy accompanied me out of my bedroom and down the stairs. She made me feel like a prisoner, but I could see she was terrified of being accused of not following Grandmother Emma's orders. Whatever Grandmother Emma said to her must have been threatening and Nancy didn't want to lose her position. She was paid well and had been here many years. Eventually, we would find out she was sending money to a sick brother, and it was the only money he had.
"What do you know about the accident?" Ian asked her as soon as we entered the dining room.
"I don't know anything about it," Nancy said. She quickly started for the kitchen.
"What time did it happen?" Ian shouted after her.
"I don't know," she said, and went into the kitchen.
"Are they all right?" I asked Ian.
"I don't know any more than you do," he said. He quickly drank his juice. He was already very suspicious. "I certainly don't know why they would leave to come home at night. Everything had been arranged. If they didn't want to stay together, they wouldn't have left together anyway. Mother still had our car and Father had to have his rental yet."
Nancy brought us oatmeal with raisins. There was a plate of buttered toast as well. She put everything on the table the exact way she always did. I even saw her glance at Grandmother Emma's chair as if Grandmother Emma was sitting there observing and making sure she was doing everything correctly. I could understand that. I often felt the same way when she wasn't where I expected her to be.
"What time did my grandmother leave the house?" Ian asked.
"I'm not sure," Nancy replied.
"What time did she wake you up?" Ian pursued.
"Between four-thirty and five o'clock. I'm sure she will call here soon," she added, and again made a quick exit to the kitchen.
"I can't imagine why they would be on the road at that hour," Ian muttered, and started to eat.
After we finished our breakfast, we remained downstairs in the living room. Ian got the idea to call the highway department to see if he could learn about any accidents in the vicinity of the route Daddy and Mama would have taken. He returned to the living room to tell me there was an accident discovered about ten-thirty that could very well have been theirs. His mind was already whirling with the possibilities and he looked at me angrily.
"I bet Grandmother called them after she found me in your room. I bet that's why they left to come home," he said.
It took my breath away.
I
was trembling as it was, just waiting to learn something. Had Mama been angry at me? Daddy? Was this somehow my fault?
We heard a car approach the house and Ian jumped up to look through the window. "It's Felix," he said. "He's alone."
We waited until he came to the door and rang the bell. Ian and I rushed out to greet him.
"Your grandmother would like you both to come with me to the hospital," he said.
Nancy stood waiting behind us. He and she exchanged a very serious look.
"You don't need anything. You can come as you are," he added, and turned away.
Ian started after him, stopped, and reached back for my hand. "Come on, Jordan," he said.
Felix opened the rear door for us and we got in. As soon as he did, too. Ian started to ask questions.
"I don't know everything," Felix said, almost sullenly. "I was just sent to get you. I'll get you there as fast as I can."
Ian sat back. Frustration clouded his eyes. He seemed to shrink into a tight ball, fuming, while I could barely keep from crying.
I should have gone to the bathroom first, too, but I was afraid to mention it. Ian, however, looked at me squirming and told Felix he had to find a place where I could go.
"She should have gone before we left," Felix said, not hiding his annoyance. Perhaps Grandmother Emma would blame him for this short delay.
"The world is full of 'should haves," Ian told him.
He said nothing after that. We pulled into the parking lot of a diner and Ian walked me into it to go to the bathroom. Felix came in and bought some gum and a cup of coffee to go, and then we were off again.
Na matter what Grandmother Emma believed, I thought, my brother always looks after me.
She was waiting for us in the lobby. It wasn't until I saw her standing there speaking with a doctor that I came to understand and appreciate how much in control she could be even under great pressure. No matter what you thought of her, if you needed someone upon whom to rely and depend, she was that person.
She saw us enter, but continued her
conversation with the doctor. When she was finished, she turned to us. "Come with me," she said, and led us to an elevator.
"How are they?" Ian asked as soon as we were alone with her.
"Your father has seriously injured his spine. He will be paralyzed from the waist down," she said.
I started to cry.
"There's no time for that, Jordan. The damage is done and we have to deal with it," she said. "He also has a broken shoulder and a broken leg, a concussion, a broken nose, and a fractured cheekbone. He had a ruptured spleen and the spleen has been removed."
"Removed?" I asked.
"You can live without a spleen," Ian said. He looked dazed and a bit pale because of what she had said about Daddy. "You just have some added risk of infections."
"Ian is right," Grandmother Emma said.
The door opened and we stepped onto the floor that had the intensive care unit or ICU.
"What about Mama?" I asked her.
"Your mother miraculously did not suffer any broken bones, but she wasn't wearing her seat belt. Neither was your father for that matter, and she apparently struck her head either against the windshield or even on the metal roof. She is in a coma. The doctors are not sure yet what it means and they are continuing to evaluate her condition."
"What's a coma?" I asked.
It's like being asleep," she said.
"Only you can't wake up," Ian added. "You could be in a coma for years and years. She probably has swelling and pressure and that's why she's in a coma."
"Yes," Grandmother Emma said. "At the moment they are not sure how serious the damage is."
We entered the ICU. Patients were on both sides with a nursing station in the center. Monitors of all sorts were going and two nurses were behind the counters while two others were attending to patients. Some of the patients were in the open, but many were in areas walled off by curtains the nurses pulled back. Both Mama and Daddy were behind these, side by side.
"Your father's as good as in a coma as well at the moment," Grandmother Emma said. "He's been sedated because of the pain. You can try to talk to him. You can talk to your mother also, but she won't respond to anything. Even if you touch her," she added, looking at me.
I glanced at Ian. His eyes were small and narrow and he was looking around the ICU. I was doing all I could not to cry since she had reprimanded me, but it was hard smothering my tears. We approached Daddy first and looked at him. His right arm was in a cast that went right over his shoulder. His left leg was in a cast. His face had all sorts of black and blue marks, red marks, and some bandages over his eves and around his ears. There was a tube inserted in his left forearm and there were wires on his chest. He moaned.
"Does he know he won't be able to walk again?" Ian asked Grandmother Emma.
"No," she said. Grandmother Emma looked at him more with a mother's disgust and annoyance than sadness. I thought.
She looked at me and nodded at him, giving me permission to speak to him.
"Don't tell him," Ian warned. I couldn't imagine doing that.
"Daddy?" I said. "It's Jordan and Ian. How are you? Daddy?" He moaned again. His eyelids fluttered, but he didn't speak.
"He's too out of it," Ian said, sounding grateful. "Let's look in on Mother."
We stepped over to her bed. She had monitors wired to her as well, but her face was remarkably clear, not a scratch on it. She looked like she was only taking a nap. Her good appearance encouraged me. I reached for her hand quickly.
"Mama, it's me. Mama, wake up. Please," I said, shaking her hand. It was so limp in mine. Her fingers didn't bend or move.
"What are they doing for her?" Ian asked Grandmother Emma.
"Evaluation. I told you. We might move her to a bigger, more complex hospital where there are specialists in this sort of thing. We'll know soon." she said.
"Mama," I cried, and drew closer. I put my hand on her arm and then her shoulder. "Mama, it's me. Can't you wake up? Please, Mama." I shook her a little.
"When people are in a coma," Ian said, "they don't respond to voices or light, smells, or touch. It's like their brains have shut down, Jordan."
"No," I said. I didn't care how smart he was or what he knew. I wouldn't hear it. "Mama, we're here. Please wake up."
"Don't raise your voice, Jordan," Grandmother Emma said. "There are other very sick people in here."
"Mama," I cried, and put my forehead against her arm. She felt as warm as ever, but she didn't move. I finally started to cry, sobbing loudly.
"We'll have to take her out," Grandmother Emma said. "Come along, Jordan. You're not helping by doing that now. Come along," she insisted, and reached for me.
I pulled my arm out of her hand and clung to Mama's arm.
"NO!" I shouted at her.
One of the nurses came to Grandmother Emma's side. "What is it?"
"It's her daughter. I made a mistake bringing her in. I'm sorry."
"Oh, that's all right," the nurse said in a sweet, soft voice. "Let me take care of it."
"Ian," Grandmother Emma said, "we'll leave now."
He looked at me and then turned and walked away with Grandmother Emma.
The nurse stepped up beside me and put her hand on my head, softly petting me the way Mama often did.
"It's all right," she said. "You shouldn't feel bad about crying. And you know, sometimes, even though they don't seem to respond, people in comas hear you. She knows you're here, sweetie, and she's trying to get better for you. You want to help her do that, right?"
I nodded.
"Well, you let us do what we have to do and take care of her for you and she'll act better. You know, there's a candy machine out in the hallway. Why don't we get you something nice? Later, you can return. Okay?"
I looked at Mama. She hadn't moved. Her eves didn't open. Was the nurse right? Did she hear me? Did she know I was here?
"Come on," the nurse urged me. "Lean over and kiss her cheek. Go ahead."
I did and then I held my face close to Mama's and watched her eyes hopefully, but they didn't open.
"It's all right," the nurse said. "She knows. Come on, sweetie."
She took my hand and we walked out of the ICU. As she promised, she brought me right to the candy machine and asked me what I wanted. I chose a box of chocolate-covered peanuts because I knew they were Mama's favorite. I thought when I went back in to see her. I would tell her I had them and she would open her eyes and smile at me. The nurse bought it for me and then brought me down the hallway to the small waiting room where Grandmother Emma was on the phone and Ian was reading a magazine.