Bridge Jumping

Chapter Seven

The next afternoon, we went to see my favorite person in the entire world – my nana. She had diabetes, which can be pretty bad for old people, and had been in the hospital for a week. I hated hospitals – hated how they smelled, hated knowing that almost everyone there was probably naked under their hospital gowns. Gross! Nana didn't belong there. The only place I could easily picture her in was her own cluttered house.

My mom said Nana didn't like to throw anything away because she'd lived through the depression and thought waste was a sin. She had jars all over her kitchen table that were full of crazy things like cotton balls, elastic bands and Q-tips

My parents decided we wouldn't tell Nana what had happened to me. My mom was afraid knowing would make Nana even sicker. I didn't want her to know anyway. She'd always treated me like an equal. She never looked at me like I was a little kid who didn't know anything about anything. I was afraid if she knew about the assault – that's what my parents were calling it – then she might start treating me like something fragile, something breakable. I couldn't bear that.

We got to her room, and she was sitting up in bed, doing a crossword puzzle. She didn't look small, or diminished, like some of the other patients I'd seen, lying frailly in their beds - but she did look different. Her hair was all wrong. She usually wore it twisted up in a bun. Now it was loose around her shoulders and I could see how thin it was getting. And she wasn't wearing her favorite, bulky bathrobe. Without it, she seemed smaller. But still, she looked as witty as ever.

"Hey, Nana," I said, rushing over to kiss her wrinkled cheek. "How are you feeling?" The rest of the family gathered around the bed.

She put the puzzle down and patted my cheek. "Oh, I'm fine. They're just keeping me here to be on the cautious side. I'll be home in no time and then you can come over for a card game."

She was teaching me how to play poker, which my mom wasn't happy about, and I was getting pretty good. She no longer completely kicked my butt and pretty soon I would start winning some quarters back.

I looked around the room. Everything was sterile and cold. At least she didn't have a roommate – they could be a real pain, especially if they were a snorer. The bed on the other side of the room was empty. I suddenly felt really tired, so I went over and lay down.

We stayed for almost an hour before my nana's supper came. I'd never heard anything good about hospital food, but when her tray came in, my stomach began to rumble.

On the way out, I asked, "Can we get something to eat? I'm starving."

My mom looked at me, surprised. "You just ate before we got here, Jaime. You must be going through a growth spurt, because your appetite has been insatiable lately."

"What's insatiable?" I asked.

She smiled. "You've been eating like a pig."

My sister started oinking. "Shut up," I told her.

In the elevator, I leaned against the wall, looked up at the ceiling, and ignored Ava's attempts to pester me. I was surprised when I heard my mom's voice, sharp and concerned.

"Tom," she said. "Look at Jaime's neck."

"What's wrong with my neck?" I asked, looking at her.

My dad came over and tilted my head back. What was wrong? My brother and sister came over to get a look.

"She needs to go to the doctors," my dad said. Mom nodded. I put my hands up to feel my throat, but my dad grabbed them in his much larger ones and held them still.