Trapped In Time

Chapter 9: Abby

The receptionist looks bored; her eyes are glazed over. Smacking her gum she asks, "Who are you here to visit?"

"A-abigail Hartford," I stutter, "I'm her-"

She rolls her eyes, "Doesn't matter. Take the elevator to the second floor and look for room two eleven."

I feign gratitude, "Thanks!"

Keith laughs as we step in the elevator, "Someone's pretty unhappy with their job."

"Tell me about."

The walk to Gran's room is silent. My heart is pounding against my ribs, so hard that Keith can probably hear it.

I stop at the door; now more nervous than ever. What would she say to me? Would she be relieved, or hate me? Or worse, be just as crazy as Bev implied? Keith places a reassuring hand on my back. I turn towards him, "Do you mind if I go in alone?"

He kisses me on the head, "I'll be waiting out here for you."

Slowly, I push the door open. The sanitary smell of the hospital is much stronger inside the dimly lit room. The lights are off, but a few strips of sunlight shine through the partially closed blinds. A frail looking woman lays on the bed, she's fairly thin. I don't know how I expected myself to feel when I saw her, but it definitely wasn't this. I feel nothing, like I don't even know her. She stares at the window, not noticing my presence; maybe she's just not acknowledging me. I approach her bed, "Abigail?"

She mutters something that I can't make out.

"Pardon?"

"Abby. It's Abby, not that you care. Why are you here? Are you from the state?" She hardly bothers to meet my eyes.

"No Abby, I'm a visitor-"

"You must have the wrong room."

"Aren't you Abigail Hartford?"

"I don't get visitors. That's what happens when you don't have family."

"I'm your family," I blurt out.

She lifts her head up, "Excuse me?"

"I'm Macen, Renée's daughter. You're my-"

"Great grandmother." She looks at me incredulously, "You're alive."

I stepped towards her, confused, "Why wouldn't I be?"

She touches my arm, as if she's unsure that I'm really there. "Your father," she practically snarls.

"Can I ask-"

"Sit down dear," she interrupts me for about the seventh time today. "We have much to talk about."

"Why are you here? Why didn't they tell me I had a family after all? I spent my whole life abandoned Gran."

"Gran," she mused, "That's what Renée always called me."

"I know, I have her diary."

"You do? Does she say the truth about what happened to her?"

Gran was hardly answering any of my questions. "What do you mean 'the truth'? That she died? She...killed herself."

"Bullshit!" Gran screeched. "Do you think I'd be locked up in this nuthouse if that was true?"

I was exasperated, "I don't know! How would I? You haven't answered a single question of mine!"

She seemed taken aback.

"Sorry," I muttered.

She sighed, "No you're right, I'm being scatterbrained. When they called me to tell me about Renée's death, I knew it didn't add up. We had talked the other day. I was planning to visit you again; I had only met you once in the hospital. And now she had killed herself? It was Angelo! I know he did it; I never trusted that man! I couldn't tell her that, I thought she would forbid me from seeing you. Oh how I wish...I wish I said something."