Storms 01 - Family Storms

world,” Mama had toldme, “is being obligated to someone, especially someone who won’t let you forget why. So the best thing you can do for yourself is always earn what you get or deserve it, Sasha. That’s what it really means to be free.”
    Mrs. March, however, had made it sound as if I was doing her more of a favor than she was doing for me. She was the one who was obligated. I wondered if her husband felt the same way. Would I be treated like some kind of princess? Should I ever be satisfied and happy when I was with them?
    I knew Jackie gossiped a little with the other nurses about me and Mrs. March, because when they stopped by, they, too, looked at me differently. I imagined I was no longer just someone’s charity case. Was this how it would always be from now on? People would no longer look at me with disgust, disapproval, or disinterest? Should I be feeling good about it? Mama was dead and buried. Everything, all of the gifts, the clothes, the promise of a new life, was designed to make me forget what had happened.
I won’t,
I vowed.
I never will.
    With the cast on my leg, I always had a hard time falling and staying asleep, but this particular night was the worst. I dreamed that Mama was in the room with me, sitting beside my bed and looking at me. She wasn’t my mother before the struggle, either. She was just the way she was on the day of the accident.
    She was staring at me and twisting her hands around each other. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I did this to you.”
    “You didn’t do it, Mama.”
    “I did. I did. I can’t sleep in my grave, Sasha. You’re alone in the street.”
    “No, I’m not. I won’t be, Mama.”
    “You are. I did this. You are,” she insisted, and then she began to shrink in the chair. I reached out to stop it, but I couldn’t get to her. She kept dwindling.
    “Mama!” I screamed, and woke up.
    I apparently woke up my night nurse, too. She came quickly to the bed. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain? What?”
    I looked up at her. Her face seemed as white as her uniform in the dim light, and she didn’t look sympathetic. She looked upset.
    “No,” I said. “Nothing.” I lay back, closing my eyes.
    “You’d think the ceiling had caved in,” I heard her say.
    “It has,” I muttered. “For me.”
    The next morning, I saw how nervous Jackie was. She didn’t say any more about Mrs. March’s offer to take me into her home, but it was clearly on her mind. The more she flitted about, trying to make me more comfortable, keeping the sun out of my eyes and the room cool enough, making sure I ate well, the more nervous I became, too.
    Finally, just before lunch, Jordan March arrived. She was dressed in a bright blue pantsuit and had her hair pulled back so that her opal teardrop earrings in a gold setting were quite prominent. As usual, it looked as if a professional had done her makeup and she was ready to step onto the cover of some fashion magazine.
    “How’s our patient doing today?” she asked Jackie.
    “Fine, Mrs. March.”
    “Take a break,” she told her.
    Jackie nodded and left without glancing at me, keeping her head down.
    “Well, now, Sasha, have you thought about our little discussion yesterday?”
    “Yes,” I said.
    “How do you feel about it? Do you want to come live with Donald and me? I’ll have the therapist come to our house, and when you’re able to get around, we’ll get you into school again. In the meantime, I’ll also arrange for a tutor to come to the house and get you caught up. We don’t want you entering class behind the others, do we?”
    I shook my head.
    “Of course, if you’re terribly unhappy, we’ll look for other arrangements for you. What do you say? Will you come?”
    She was sitting where I had dreamed Mama sat. It was almost as if Mama’s spirit was there, too.
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Oh, that’s wonderful, Sasha. It really is.” She leaped to her feet. “I have lots to do, lots to arrange. You’ll be out of here the day after tomorrow. Dr. Milan will discharge you, and then he’ll follow up on your treatment. Now, tell me some important things. What are your favorite colors? I took a guess with some of the clothes I sent up. Do you like the baby pink, the metallic blues, and this green? I love this green,” she said, holding up a blouse I had not yet put on.
    “Yes. Everything is beautiful,” I said. What else would I say? I hadn’t had anything new for more than a year.