7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Cat

Stella and I rush through the parking garage, the cold winter air nipping at our noses, our breaths coming out in visible puffs. The automatic doors of Mercy Hospital’s emergency room slide open with a whoosh, and a wave of warm air envelops us. The sudden change in temperature makes my cheeks tingle, and I shiver as I unwrap my scarf.

We were on our way to dance class when I got the call my grandmother was in the ER. They said she’d fallen.

Mierda.

I hope she didn’t break anything.

My jaw clenches, molars grinding. That damn apartment complex she lives in should’ve cleaned the sidewalk better, used more salt. Who cares if it cracks the cement? The place caters to seniors so they should take more care with keeping the property safe. Why not install radiant heating in the sidewalks? Oh, yeah. Of course. Because they’re cheap assholes.

My heart drums against my ribcage as we approach the reception desk, the harsh fluorescent lights overhead casting a sterile glow over everything. “Hi, I’m looking for my grandmother. Rosa Alonso. She would've been brought in by ambulance like an hour ago.”

The receptionist's fingers fly over her keyboard, the soft clicking sound barely audible over the general hum of the emergency room. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, my boots squeaking slightly on the polished linoleum floor.

“Are you family?” she asks, glancing up from her screen.

I force a tight smile, even though I want to snap at her redundant question. “Yes. I’m her granddaughter.”

Her acrylic nails clatter over the keyboard. “Yes, she's still down here in the ER in bed 8C. Just head straight back through those double doors and a nurse can direct you.”

“Thank you.”

I hustle past the desk with Stella beside me, pushing through the doors into the chaotic ER area. The smell of antiseptic is stronger here, mingling with the beeps of machines and the murmurs of the staff. I weave around gurneys and equipment, waving down a passing nurse. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Rosa Alonso, bed 8C?”

She points toward a partitioned area.

I stop short in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat at the sight of my abuela looking so tiny and frail in her hospital gown and tucked under a thin blanket, an IV taped to the back of her slender hand. The harsh lights cast deep shadows on her face, accentuating every line and wrinkle, making her look older than I’ve ever seen her.

My grandmother’s deep brown eyes—mirror images of my own—blink open when she sees us enter. Her lips, still glossed despite the circumstances, curve into a faint smile. “Hola, mi nieta. Sorry if I scared you.”

I release Stella’s hand and walk to the bed. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Abuela pats my hand. “Ay, it's nothing. I stood up too fast and got dizzy. Next thing I knew, I was talking to some very handsome paramedics.”

She chuckles and waggles her eyebrows.

While it partially angers me she’s treating this as some sort of a joke, I’m also relieved she appears to be fine. “Please tell me you behaved.”

“I did need some help getting into the gurney. Not my fault if I needed to hold onto some biceps for a moment.”

I can’t with this woman sometimes. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, not wanting to encourage her.

She looks past me, her lips spreading into a wide smile. “And who’s this?”

Stella extends her hand. “I’m Stella Hartman.”

“Nice to meet you, Stella.” My grandmother’s grey speckled brows furrow for a second. “Hartman? Oh, you must be that handsome hockey captain’s daughter.”

“Abuela!”

She rolls her eyes. “Catharina, I’m not blind. That man is handsome. A Viking God.”

Stella giggles. “Yeah, he needs a girlfriend. Maybe he won’t be so grouchy then.”

My grandmother perks up, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head.

Shit.

“Your father is single?” Her voice rises with interest, and I resist the urge to groan.

“Seriously, Abuela. You know this.” Only because she’s so nosy and Wyatt is such a fucking chatterbox. Seriously, those two gossip too much.

“Well, maybe Stella can provide more insight as to why such a handsome man doesn’t have a girlfriend.” There's a glint in her eye that I know all too well—the look she gets when she's about to meddle.

I huff and roll my eyes, my fingers tapping an agitated rhythm against my thighs. “Have you met him? He’s infuriating and bossy and uptight.”

That man gets on my nerves. And I swear, if I hear one more word about that damn step stool I’m going to crack it over his stupid head.

Stella snorts and my grandmother quirks a brow. Dammit.

But before either can speak, a tall doctor with salt-and-pepper hair strides into the room, flipping through a chart. He looks up and gives me a polite smile. “You must be Ms. Alonso’s granddaughter. I'm Dr. Stevens.”

I shake his outstretched hand. “I'm Cat.”

“Well, it seems your grandmother experienced a significant drop in blood pressure today, likely due to accidentally taking too much of her medication.”

My eyes snap to my grandmother. “Is that true? Are you having trouble with your meds?”

She waves a dismissive hand at me, her gold bangles jangling on her wrist. “Ay, it's no big deal. An honest mistake. I forgot I took my pill and took another. At my age, one forgets things sometimes.”

I chew my lip, thinking back to two months ago when Abuela’s friend Carla called me, saying she brought my grandmother to the ER for the exact same reason. She laughed it off then too, blaming old age.

But now . . .

The doctor clears his throat gently. “It's good that your grandmother seems coherent. But I'd like a quick word with you outside, if you don't mind?” He tilts his head meaningfully toward the hallway.

“Sure.” I turn to my grandmother, forcing a bright tone that sounds false even to my own ears. “Stella is going to sit with you. We'll be right back.”

My grandmother’s eyes twinkle as she smiles at the young girl lingering by the door. She pats the mattress beside her. “Come. Tell me all about yourself.”

Stella walks over, then perches on the edge of the bed. My grandmother instantly peppers her with questions about school and friends as Dr. Stevens leads me into the hall. I take a deep, steadying breath, bracing myself for whatever news he has to share.

Dr. Stevens gives me a kind look, his gray eyes gentle behind wire-rimmed spectacles. “I reviewed your grandmother's chart. This is the second time in this year she's been hospitalized for issues with medication dosage and fainting.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “Given her age and these incidents, along with some neurological deficits I observed, I believe Rosa may be exhibiting early signs of dementia.”

“Excuse me?”

I rub my eyes and take a few deep breaths, trying to process what I’ve just heard. Sure, there have been little things I've noticed over recent months—forgotten appointments, lost handbags, repeating the same stories twice. But isn’t that just part of aging?

“The onset is often gradual. It manifests differently for each patient. At this point, I cannot diagnose definitively, but I'm very concerned about allowing Rosa to continue living independently.” Dr. Stevens takes a moment before continuing. “I strongly advise looking into full-time in-home care support or an assisted living facility. It’s simply not safe for her to live unsupervised anymore.”

My vision blurs with tears and I lean against the wall, the cool surface grounding me as my world tilts on its axis. My mind spins, thinking about caring for the woman who practically raised me. I swipe at my eyes, most likely smudging mascara onto my cheek.

Just then, loud laughter rings out from inside Abuela’s room, followed by a smaller giggle. My head snaps up as I exchange a surprised look with Dr. Stevens. We both peer into the room to see my grandmother doubled over. Beside her, Stella grins, then looks at me with the most deviant expression.

What the hell is that girl up to?

“Oh, nieta. This little one is a firecracker!” My grandmother pats Stella’s hand. “Think she might be a missing Alonso.”

Oh, shit.

Stella's definitely part mischievous demon, and with my grandmother in her corner . . . I can already feel a headache forming at the thought of what these two might cook up together.

“Abuela, please don’t instigate. Leo will lose his ever-loving mind.”

The two look at each other and laugh. But not in a joyous way. No, much worse. Almost sinister like.

I turn back to Dr. Stevens. “How long before she can go home?”

“We’re still waiting on one more test, but within a few hours. The nurse will give you some information on home health aides and assisted living when she brings the discharge papers over.”

“Thank you.”

When he leaves, I walk back in to find Stella and Abuela whispering. They stop when they spot me. My eyes narrow and I point at both of them, channeling my best teacher voice. “Whatever you two are plotting, knock it off.”

Abuela huffs dramatically, throwing her hands up in the air. “When did you stop being fun?”

I place both hands on my hips. “I’m tons of fun. A ball of fucking laughs.”

A lie.

Because the fun side of me evaporated the moment the doctor gave me a full explanation of my grandmother’s current health status.

Even so, I manage to force a smile as I go to the woman who I may lose, not in body, but in mind much sooner than I ever fathomed possible.