Chapter 4: What My Soul Does When I Am Asleep by Stephen Simpson

My grandma’s voice shatters my dream, as if she is in the same room as me, “Gabriella, you must find him.”

My eyes jolt open, as my body jerks, and all my muscles stiffen. I blink up at my ceiling, trying to orientate myself. For a couple of seconds, I am not entirely sure where I am.

A thought echoes in my head:

Where do you spend your days?

          Where do you spend your days?

                         Where do you spend your days?

I hear the landline ringing downstairs and my dad’s footsteps thumping down the stairs. Then his muffled, “Hello?”

I feel a little twinge of apprehension rush through me as I throw my duvet off and slide my feet onto the floor. The floorboards are cold, and I quickly pull my legs up again. I push my hand in under my duvet to search for my socks, which I must have taken off in my sleep. I find one and quickly lean over to pull it on. Then I repeat the process as I look for my other sock. It is pushed all the way to the bottom of the bed and, when I have it in my hand, my dad is coming back up the stairs again. His steps are slow. It sounds like a death march: Doof… Doof… Doof.

His shadow moves across the threshold of my room and then I hear his muted voice as he wakes my mum.

I hear the springs of their bed creak as my mum sits up and my dad sits down.

Faintly I hear my mum asking, “Are you sure?”

My dad’s reply is indecipherable. I need to know what all the commotion is about, so I stand up from the bed and leave my room.

Softly I tap on their door and push it open.

My mum stares at me with eyes as big as saucers and a look of panic on her face.

My dad turns around to me. “Wake your brother. Your grandma has had a mishap.”

“What mishap?” I ask.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Just get Isaac up and get dressed. We need to leave as soon as we can.”

“Leave to go where? You know it’s Thursday today, and um… a school day, don’t you?”

“Please, Gaby, just do it,” he says with exasperation as he stands up from the bed. The bedsprings cry out in gratitude.

“Mum?”

My mum is still looking in my direction, but not at me. I can actually see the moment her eyes focus on me. “Your grandma’s in hospital.” She pushes her legs out from under her duvet and is on her feet so quickly she makes me think of a sprinter leaving the starting blocks in an Olympic race. As she disappears into their en-suite bathroom, she calls, “Quickly. Get your brother up and pack some things. I’ll be there in a minute.”

With my heart racing in my chest, I ask, “But what’s wrong with her?”

My dad rushes around the room, opening doors and pulling clothes from the cupboards. “She’s had a stroke.”

It is as if he hit me in the stomach.

I turn and rush down the short hallway to Isaac’s room. Opening his bedroom door, I shout, “Isaac! Wake up!”

He turns over in his bed to face the wall.

I rush into the room. “Isaac! Get up.”

He mumbles, “Leave me alone. It’s still early.”

I shake his shoulder. “Get up. Grandma's sick and we have to go.”

He turns his head to look up at me with one eye. “What?”

“I said, grandma’s in the hospital. You have to get up now and get dressed.”

He huffs. “I had the nicest dream. Can’t I just finish it quickly?”

“No! Get up. I swear if you don’t get up right now, I’ll pull you out myself.”

“Mum!” he calls out.

“Mum’s busy. Get up.”

“Leave my room.”

“Get up, Isaac. Seriously!”

“Get out, and I’ll get up.”

I turn to walk out the room, and as I enter the hallway, I repeat, “Get up!”

He groans.

In the hallway, I holler, “Mum! Where’s the bags?”

She calls from her room, “In the downstairs closet. Bring them all up.”

I run down the stairs.

“Don’t! Run! Down! The! Stairs!” my mum yells.

The bags are behind a lot of other junk in the cupboard under the stairs. I pull out two electric heaters, a box with Christmas decorations, a briefcase, my and Isaac’s school bags, and only then do I pull out the two suitcases and a duffel bag. I shove the other things back in no particular order.

I must make three trips up and down the stairs and am running again, but my mum must be in the shower, and thus cannot hear me 'elephanting' up and down.

I leave two suitcases in my parents’ room, and then take the duffel bag with me.

I pull a shirt from my cupboard, then reconsider. Turning my head to my bedroom door, I ask, “How many days?”

“What?” my dad calls back.

“How many days must I pack for?”

Silence.

He calls back, “A week, I suppose.”

I rummage through my cupboard and pull clothes from the rail and drawers haphazardly. Digging through the washing basket behind my door, I pull out some of the clean clothes I stuffed in there yesterday. I fold everything on the bed first in matching outfits, count off the days and then try to pack it into the duffel bag as neatly as humanly possible.

How life changes in a heartbeat. One moment everything is boringly normal, and then everything is up in the air. I really hope my grandma is okay. She is actually a pain in the backside, but she is still my grandma and I honestly do love her. She went a little senile over the last couple of months, and she has a serious conspiracy theory obsession since she discovered social networking. At the ripe old age of sixty-nine, she was introduced to Facebook by my mum. My mum thought it would be something to keep her busy, but never realised the consequences of her actions. In the last few months, all my grandma has been able to talk about is Facebook, and it literally rules her thoughts and her entire existence. It is sad to witness such despair. I wonder if she poured so much of her energy into the theory that Facebook is spying on her because she is lonely all the way there on the other side of the world with only herself as company. These are all questions and doubts; I know I might never get an answer to. I really hope my grandma does not die.

My dad rushes past my room. “Are you ready, Gaby?”

“Almost, Dad.”

He stops in front of Isaac's room. “Are you up, Isaac?”

I only hear grunting.

My dad's voice says, “Quickly, get dressed. I'll start packing your things.”

“Will grandma be okay?”

“I'm sure she'll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Really sure?”

My dad sighs. “I really don't know, Isaac. But we must hurry. It's going to take us just under two days to get there, and we really need to get there as quickly as possible.”

I pull the slide fastener on the duffel bag and then heave it over my shoulder. On my way to the stairs, I hear a sob coming from my mum's room. I hesitate. I am not entirely sure I can handle the sadness of the sound escaping her mouth.

I drop the bag at my feet. It takes a couple of seconds before I can convince myself to turn around. I walk to her room and push the door open without knocking. She is standing by the suitcase and folding the clothes my dad pulled from the cupboards and dumped onto the bed, her shoulders are slumped.

She looks up as I walk into her room and quickly she wipes the tears off her face with the back of her hand. “Who would've thought?”

Rushing to her, I throw my arms around her. I feel her body tense up for a moment as she fights her overwhelming emotions.

“Everything will be okay,” I promise her. I really do not want her to be sad.

“I should have called her more,” she moans.

“But you did your best,” I placate her.

“We should not have left her there on her own. If only it wasn't so far away.” She pulls away from me and turns around to fold another item of clothing before packing it into the suitcase.

Sitting down on the bed, I look up at her tear streaked face. “She wanted to stay there.”

My mum turns to her bedside table to pick up her phone. Bringing it closer to her face, she pushes a couple of buttons before handing it to me. “She sent me this message a week ago, and I never replied, ‘cause I forgot.”

I read: Sarah, why are you so quiet?

Leaping up from the bed, I take her hand in mine. “Everything will be fine, you'll see.”

“Will it?”

My dad walks into the room. “Gaby, please get breakfast for yourself and Isaac. I was lucky to get a flight, but we must hurry. The taxi will be here in half an hour.” He walks to my mum as I leave the room. “Are you okay, Sarah?”

My mum collapses in his arms, and the pain of her sadness makes my stomach spasm painfully.

Continue reading Chapter 5/19

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