Read The Awakening Online

Authors: Angella Graff

The Awakening (6 page)

             
“He hasn't got a dog, but yeah, pretty much all of that,” Abby said with a shrug.  “I think he's always been blind, I don't really know.  He's some sort of theological genius, though.  He knows so much about the history of the church, it's like he's spent his whole life studying it or something.  He's really quiet, but there's something about him that I really want to get to know.”

             
“I have a feeling this isn't going to end well for you,” Ben warned.

             
“You always say that,” Abby muttered and smacked his hand.  “Why can't you just let me be happy?”

             
“I want you to be happy,” Ben muttered.  “I indulge you on your weird superstitions, and your religious fervor, and obsession with bleeding statues and whatnot.  I took you to Rio when you were twelve to see the weeping statue, and to France to see the body of that weird saint who never decayed.”

             
“I know,” Abby said, and suddenly sounded choked up at the idea that her brother might not be around for anything else.  She cleared her throat, but when she spoke, her voice was hoarse and thick.  “So how long is this surgery thing going to take?”

             
Ben looked at her for a long time before he answered.  “A few hours.  They're just taking a look today.  Any removal surgery will be done after all the tests.”

             
“Right yeah,” she said, and then unable to help herself, she burst into tears.

             
Ben shifted to pull her over to him, embracing her tightly and kissing the top of her head.  His baby sister meant the world to him; he had practically raised her while their mother worked three jobs, and dealt with their deadbeat, absent father, and eventually drowned herself in alcohol.  This was exactly the reason he hadn't wanted to tell Abby, but he understood her anger and frustration with his decision to keep her out of the loop.

             
“It's going to be okay, I promise,” he said quietly.

             
Abby pulled back, wiping her face angrily.  “You don't know that, Benjamin!  You don't actually know if it's going to be okay!  You could die today on that table.  They could burst something, and you could just die.  They could find this tumor inoperable and I might have to watch you slowly waste away.”

             
Ben bit his lip, but said nothing.  Abby was right, and she had always been blunt and frank with everyone around her, including him.  All he could do was stare at her, helpless to make her feel better or ease her fears, because he, himself, was terrified and helpless.  The MRI with the absent tumor was nothing but a confusing image threatening to give him false hope that this was all going to just blow over.

             
When the doctor came in, Abby kissed his cheek and then waited by the door as they pumped a sedative into his IV.  “You're not going to be unconscious for this surgery, okay?” the Anesthesiologist said as he adjusted Ben's bed down backwards.  “You probably won't remember anything about it, but we're going to be asking you questions and testing your motor functions as we operate.  It's a fairly routine, simple procedure, though it's a long one, but soon enough we'll have some answers for you.”

             
Ben let out a breath and watched as Abby was ushered out of the room and the Anesthesiologist administered another drug into his IV.  The drug hit him almost instantly, making his thoughts grow foggy and vision start to weave in and out.  The last thing he remembered as he was being wheeled out of the room was smiling up at the doctor and saying, “Let’s get skull-crackin’.”

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

             
There was a small cafe just down the street from the hospital, and Abby made her way that direction.  It was foggy in the city, and beyond the fog, the heavy smell of approaching rain.  It was fitting that the dreary weather seeming to mimic her mood.  She thought a sunny day would only be a mockery to the situation so she was thankful that everything was bleak and grey.

             
She made it to the cafe without even realizing how quickly her steps were taking her, and she stepped inside.  It wasn't crowded, but by no means empty, and every time she saw people smiling, conversing, like nothing in the world was wrong, she wanted to scream.

             
Ben was a great guy, the best guy, the only person who'd ever really been there for her, and the idea that he could be taken away from her was probably the most terrifying thing in the world.  Most people didn't have relationships with their siblings the way Abby did with Ben.  It wasn't just the shared blood, but the fact that he was willing to be there for her no matter what, and that was something special.

             
Abby approached the counter, ordered a cafe au lait and when it was ready, she took it outside to a solitary table.  It started to rain lightly, but she was able to take refuge under a large umbrella on the corner of the patio, and with her hot coffee, she snuggled deep into her sweater and tried to relax.

             
She felt so alone right then, absolutely terrified and without even really thinking, she picked up her phone, and dialed Mark.  She regretted it almost instantly, afraid that the phone call would be unwelcome by the reclusive teacher, but she didn’t have anyone else to talk to.

             
“Hello?” came the rich voice after a few rings.

             
“Mark, hi, it's Abby.  I'm not interrupting you, am I?”

             
“No, I was just listening to the radio,” Mark said.  “Is something wrong, Abby?  Your voice sounds like you’ve been crying.”

             
Abby tried to keep herself composed, but it was hard.  Tears were falling down her cheeks, but she wasn't falling apart yet.  “I um, I'm not doing so well at the moment, and I wasn't really sure who to call.  Normally I'd call my brother, but he's kind of in the hospital having brain surgery right now.”

             
“Oh,” Mark said, sounding surprised.  “By the sound of your voice I’d say you just found out about this?”

             
“I didn't know he was sick until the hospital called me.  Possible cancer, I guess.  They're doing surgery to find out what's going on right now.  They said it could be a couple hours, and I'm terrified, frankly.  I don't know what to do with myself.”

             
“Look, let me take you to lunch,” Mark said after a moment of silence.  “You sound like you need a friend and it’s the least I can do.”

             
Abby smiled, despite her tears.  “No, it's okay.  I don't want you to trouble yourself.  I just felt like I had to say it aloud to someone, you know, because it was sort of festering in my head and I felt like if I didn't tell someone, I was going to break down.”

             
“I'll come to you then.  Give me the address where you are and I'll hire a cab, okay?” Mark insisted.

             
While Abby didn't want him to trouble himself, she needed someone and the idea of having him nearby was welcome.  She hesitated for a moment, because it was almost solely a selfish pleasure, but the hesitation only lasted a few seconds.  “I'm at the cafe on the corner of California Street and Hyde.”  She gave him the exact address after grabbing it off the menu, and then Mark hung up.

             
Abby continued to sit there, not touching her coffee, picking at the light purple nail polish on her thumb that had started to chip. She stared blankly at her phone, waiting for that phone call from the hospital telling her they'd lost him. Something had gone wrong, they weren't able to stop the bleeding, and his heart gave out.

             
Shaking her head, Abby rested her arms on the table and dropped her forehead down atop them.  Her day hadn't started out too bad, but then the phone call. Even when she stepped into the hospital room with Ben, she had half expected him to tell her it was nothing, a mistake, and everything was going to be fine.

             
It took Mark thirty minutes to arrive, but Abby spotted him in the back of the cab the moment it pulled up.  She was on her feet instantly, and jumped the shin-high iron fence to greet him at the curb.  He got out of the cab after paying the driver, his white cane at his side, and he smiled in her direction as she said hello.

             
“You really didn't have to come all this way,” she insisted, but she was certainly pleased when he folded up his cane and took her arm instead.  His hands were always so warm she could feel the heat spread up her arm, even when she was wearing layers.

             
She offered him coffee, which he declined, and they went back to her spot outside where she'd been sitting.  “It's raining,” she said as they settled into chairs.  “We can go in if you like.”

             
“I'm fond of this weather,” Mark said, turning his face up to the dripping sky.  “In Russia it snows all year long, impossible months of ice and wind.  This is wet and warm and different.”  He turned his face to her, his milky-white eyes fixing on her face, though she knew he couldn't see her, it felt like he could.

             
“Have you ever had a close family member die?” she asked him.

             
Mark's face, which wasn't always very expressive, fell just a little, and he gave a solemn nod.  “Unfortunately, I have had many close people to me pass,” he said.  “It never gets easier.  But your brother isn’t dead, Abby, right?”

             
“Um no, I mean, they don't even really know what's going on,” Abby said.  “I guess a few weeks ago they found a mass in his brain, but when he went in for another scan, the mass was gone.  The doctors say it's impossible, so they're going in to check it out.”  Abby gave a harsh laugh and shook her head.  “I went on for a minute about it being a miracle from God, but he got so angry.  He's an Atheist, doesn't believe in the whole God thing, or Jesus.”

             
Mark smiled softly.  “I've known quite a few people like that.”

             
“Does it offend you?  I mean, you're technically a priest, right?  Haven't you been living in churches your entire life?”

             
“Close,” Mark said.  “I’ve spent more years than I care to remember in churches, and I have been in the role of priest many times.  But no, it doesn’t offend me in the slightest.  The beauty of faith, Abby, is that it's our own.  It's personal.  To be angry at another for being themselves is foolish.”

             
“I like that,” Abby said, leaning on her elbow.  “My brother and I haven't always seen eye-to-eye, especially on religion, but it never affected who we were to each other.”

             
Mark reached out slowly, finding her hand and giving it a squeeze.  “I believe your brother is going to be okay.  I wouldn’t say this to you if I wasn't sure of it.  Miracle, science, however you choose to view it, however he does, he
will
be okay.”

             
There was something in Mark's voice, finality, surety, absolute belief that made Abby shiver.  It gave her the impression that he was not only telling the truth, but somehow he actually
knew
that her brother was going to be okay. 

             
The pair of them talked until Abby was due back at the hospital.  She called a cab for Mark and vowed to stop by the moment she was back at the school and let him know her brother's progress.  She watched, her hand shielding her eyes from the rain, as the cab sped off, and then she hurried back to the hospital waiting room, knowing the surgery was due to be finished up shortly.

             
A half hour passed before the operating room doors opened and a smocked doctor walked out.  It wasn't the doctor Abby had seen before, as he moved the mask down from his mouth.  He looked serious, but not the frightening kind of serious.

             
“Abigail Stanford?” he asked her as she stood up, her hand clenching her cell phone so tightly her knuckles were white.

             
“Yeah, yeah that’s me.  How’s my brother?”

             
“He's being moved to recovery now,” the doctor said.  “He did well through the surgery, was very responsive and shouldn't have to stay too long.”

             
“Did you um... I mean... is it you know, cancer?” Abby stuttered.

             
The doctor's face was a mask of confusion as he scratched the back of his head.  “We still have a few tests to run on the tissue samples we took,” he said cryptically.  “I can tell you that it appears your brother is out of the woods, however, and I don't expect to receive much, if any, bad news back from the lab.”

             
The doctor started away, but Abby grabbed the back of his smock and yanked it.  “So that mass, that tumor thing from before?  It's gone?”

             
The doctor gave a helpless shrug.  “It appears so, Miss Stanford.  I can't tell you why or how.  I can speculate that the first MRI scan was incorrect, though the possibility of that is so small it's almost nonexistent.  To be honest, I'm stumped, and the only thing I can do is insist your brother come in for regular check-ups and notify me if anything ever changes.”

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