Wake me

8: Takeaway and Dorm rooms

I looked up at the long list of burgers, fries and milkshakes and despite the long car ride and the empty stomach, I didn't feel like eating anything. I told dad I would just have a Fanta, and then slipped down in the seat next to mom. She had picked a nice little table in the MacDonald's takeaway in the corner near the tomato sauce machine. She seemed a lot happier, her eyes brighter and the bags disappeared. However, she was cracking her knuckles self-consciously and I tapped her fingers impatiently- "Don't crack your knuckles." I said softly. She nodded, and instead played with her ring on her finger, taking it off then sliding it back on again. "I'm sorry you had to do that." Mom said quietly, her eyes suddenly looking upset and depressed. "It's fine," I said. I hope she realized I didn't want to talk about it, especially not in a grimy MacDonald's takeaway. Dad brought the plate of chips and mom's fillet of fish, and set a pole styrene cup in front of me. "So," he said, unwrapping his burger, "Are you excited to see your old dorm?"
"Grace isn't getting the same dorm." Mother replied, "The college gave that away when she dropped out. There's another dorm they're giving her."
"Oh, but that's exciting! You can get a new roommate- your old one was strange, hey?" Father frowned. She was indeed- a blond haired girl who used to talk to herself and burn oil and lavender. She told me to wash my hair with smoke ashes and my feet with crushed basil leaves, and that I must make sure the demons don't get me during the twilight. "Yes, her name was Madeline, if I remember correctly." I shrugged, sipping at my Fanta. "Yes! That's right. Well, now you can get a new one. Let's hope she's better." Father closed the conversation as he shoved the burger into his mouth, barbecue sauce dripping down his left side.

The road was long, straight and hot. The steam rose off the road and all of a sudden I wanted to rip all my clothing off. My cardigan was sticky against my skin, and the shorts I had worn seemed ten times too small as they clung to my legs. I pushed all my bags away from me in the backseat, and asked dad to turn the air con's power up. He did, but I didn't feel much of a change. Mother was lucky- she had worn a shoelace olive vest and thin exercise shorts with sandals, and her long hair was tied up out of her face. Father, on the other hand, had worn thick jeans, a long sleeve shirt and a puffer jacket. He seemed very flustered with his red cheeks and sweaty hair as his puffy knuckles clung to the steering wheel. Ahead of us, the road seemed never ending and faded into h blue sky, and the boney birds flew around our bumpy little car as if it was a carcass. I paged through my poetry book, but when my fingers became to clammy to touch the pages, I set it under the chair and rested my head on the car seat headrest. I closed my eyes for a while, and I think mom and dad thought I was sleeping, as they started talking about private things.
"I worry about Grace." Mother said softly over the crackling radio. Father turned it off and nodded, "Don't. It's good that she has found the courage to go back to college. I think it'll allow her to temporarily forget the past."
"But her past was good." Mother sighed, "Luke loved her."
Father swallowed, "He did. But now, he isn't able to be here for her. We must push her to try and forget everything and start new. It's good if she makes new friends, she might find another boy. If it was meant to be, it was meant to be."
"Grace can't do this alone." Mother struggled to say her words, and it made my head feel hot. "That's why she has medicine." Father replied quickly. "Don't worry! You told the college manager and lecturers to keep an eye on her, especially during sports, if she does them. I hope she does- she used to be good at her netball and hockey."
"I don't think she will be doing them again for a while. Let her focus on her grades." Mother murmured, unwrapping a chocolate bar. The crinkle of the tinfoil made my tummy growl, but not loud enough for them to hear. I remained silent, my eyes shut tight but my ears open wide.
"Do you think he will?" Father asked suddenly, a flame of curiosity in his croaked voice.
"What?"
"Luke."
"Luke will what?"
"Wake up." Father said the two words as if they hurt the bottom of his tongue. They sounded so hollow coming from him. Mother sighed, deep and sad.
"I really don't know," she mumbled, "The nurses say he has a chance, but Grace needs him. I just... I don't... He won't. If he does- it's a right miracle itself. He hasn't been responding to treatment, and he just isn't healing. Even his bruises are still exactly  how they were the day after the accident- it isn't right."
Father kept quiet, probably chewing his lip. "So... The doctors can't do anything? I liked that kid. He was good to Grace. It'll be pretty sad if he doesn't pull through."
"Let's try be positive." Mother whispered. It sounded like it was for my father, by I knew the only reason she said it was to try and comfort herself. I bit back sobs, and squeezed my eyelids together so that the salty tears couldn't escape from the creases.
"It's hard to be positive when the outlook isn't good." Father replied stiffly.
"Who said the outlook wasn't good?" Mother asked quietly.
"All you need to do is take a look at Grace." He said softly, "she's barely managing, imagine how he is." And I felt the car take a sharp turn off the highway, which meant we were nearing the college. The lump in my throat felt like a fireball, and I battled to swallow it down. My palms were sweaty and my stomach wasn't hungry anymore- I was completely and utterly empty. I felt no emotion,  no pain, besides the sickly, echoing feeling of every rattling breath.

"Good morning, Mr and Mrs Parker," the lady greeted, "Is this Grace?" The new secretary to the college seemed very organized. Her brown hair was pinned back into a perfect bun, secured with black Bobby pins and a piece of white ribbon around it. Her black blazer was fastened with two polished, gold buttons and the blinding white shirt beneath it had not a single crease to show. She sat behind a neat, glazed wooden desk with file cabinets behind her, along with a printer and copy machine. The lens and pencils on her desk were organized according to color and brands in the pen pots next to her computer. Her laptop sat closed next to her left arm, and a glass of sparkling, lime infused water sat in front of her. She shook Mother and Fathers hand,and reached over for mine. Her hands were soft, but felt hard in the sense that she had a firm handshake and dealt with meetings a lot. Her cool brown eyes were nearly soothing, and I could've felt my nerves melt away. "Nice to meet you." She gave me a reassuring smile, "I am Mrs Elliot, the receptionist here at Greystone College. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask. Now, let me get you your files and keys..." She bustled to the cabinets and fingered the cardboard dividers until she found the right one. She pulled out my papers and opened the envelope next to it, revealing a pair of keys. "These are for your dorm room, number 4508, it's in the new block." She handed me the keys, but they seemed suddenly very heavy in my weak hands. I shoved them into my mothers hand, starting to feel dizzy. I couldn't hear Mrs Elliot's words anymore, they sounded like a distant humming.... Like the buzz of hospital machinery. Her shirt reminded me of sheets... On a hospital bed. Her deep purple lips remind me of bruises... On a cold and lifeless body. Her water on her desk reminded me of a lake... Like the one we crashed into. And the keychain of the golden 4508 reminded me a room number... The number of Luke's room.

And I rushed to the bathroom to puke.