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What makes me angry I the way I found out.
Sitting in my room, minding my own business (because who else could I mind I haven芒聙聶t seen another person since The Worst day of my Life,) when I heard about it. My mum was on the telephone. She always comes upstairs to talk on the telephone. She must芒聙聶ve forgotten I was there. It wouldn芒聙聶t surprise me.
I could hear her pacing. Near, then far, then near, then far. I think I passed out for a lot of that day. It芒聙聶s the staying up late at night. I do it for two reasons. 1. to avenge the rebel still inside of me, and 2. because nighttimes television is much better than daytime television. Wait, three reasons, I suppose. 3. Because I secretly hope that mum will come into my room and have a go at me for my light still being on at midnight, and even if she doesn芒聙聶t I still hope that the little light beams form my light filter though the cracks of my (permanently) closed door and into her bedroom. I hope they really annoy her. Hope she cant sleep.
She does sleep. I hear her snoring when I go to the toilet at about 1 o clock. The whole house is still, and the moment is beautiful. Sometimes I look in on my mum or sister. I never see their sleeping faces, I haven芒聙聶t the courage to go in that far. But their outline, against the moonlit bedroom wall. It confirms their alive. Still breathing.
Anyway, back to my awake mother, pacing the steps like an angry lion. Like I芒聙聶m a prisoner of war and she is the guard. Armed with a phone instead of a bayonet. 芒聙聹Where is he now?芒聙聺 mum is saying. I pick up the glass again. 芒聙聹Not G8 again though? That芒聙聶s something. When? Last night? But its better than last time. A nicer ward, yes yes, look. I want to speak to the nurses. When can I come? When? Okay. I芒聙聶ll be over at 6. Thank you.芒聙聺 Then this. This sort of uck sound, which sounds like she is choking on all the words that she should be saying. It sounds like the war has claimed its first casualty. I want to wave my white flag. See if its who I know it will be. But I didn芒聙聶t. I just didn芒聙聶t.

There was no fear. I was just numb. I listen to her go downstairs, and tell Leanne and my Dad 芒聙聹Granddads had another stroke.芒聙聺 I hear the words. Yet I also unheard them. 芒聙聹I芒聙聶m going to visit at 6,芒聙聺 she says, and goes into particulars of his condition. For a transient moment I am down there with them, before I芒聙聶m on my bed, listening to the bustle of my house. Wondering about how granddad is listening to the bustle of the hospital.

芒聙聹Yes, and if you芒聙聶d have spoken to me-芒聙聺
芒聙聹I tired to speak to you!芒聙聺
Words fly back and forth. Granddad sits in the middle, looking like he芒聙聶s watching a tennis match. One side of his face melted downwards. But not as bad as last time. Good, good. The hospital smells of death. I wonder if they use a detergent made from rotting bodies. He芒聙聶s alive. Look at his face. He doesn芒聙聶t look like my Granddad anymore, but what do appearances count. I look backwards and concentrate on biting my cheeks so I don芒聙聶t cry. Why do I keep doubling the pain?
芒聙聹you wouldn芒聙聶t let me out of my room for a week-芒聙聺
芒聙聹you were free to come down, who kept you-芒聙聺
芒聙聹I heard what you were saying-芒聙聺
it芒聙聶s the wrong thing to do. The Wrong Thing To Do. We sit at my Granddads bed, flinging insults. Its good he doesn芒聙聶t really know what芒聙聶s happening. He will later. There芒聙聶s always some place he disappears to, before he swims back up to earth. The food tray comes. It芒聙聶s a welcome relief. While he tries to spoon soup into his mouth, with a shaking hand, I look out the window. Like a slit. Like a prison. What he would give to be in his bedroom, instead of here. I am teenage, I am selfish, and I am still making this about me.
I cant watch him eating. Too piteous. Instead I watch the way the trees waver in the wind and concentrate on not crying. I wouldn芒聙聶t normally cry like this. It芒聙聶s the lack of human contact.
My mum and me have fallen silent. We will remain silent, for a few more days. I know how this will end. We cant keep up fighting, with Granddad in here. We will be indifferent to each other, before time comes along and sooths it all. Takes away what we were fighting for. Granddad will grow again.
He smiles and says something. I cant understand, but its something nice. He芒聙聶s always affectionate when he芒聙聶s in this state of mind. Don芒聙聶t cry don芒聙聶t cry don芒聙聶t cry. When I take his hand I can feel right through the skin. Its paper thin. I feel every vein, every bone. Pumping the blood, holding it together. I grab his hand, holding on for us both. He takes another breath. that芒聙聶s what you do. You take on breath, put it in front of the other, and breathe on. One rule for staying alive. Just keep breathing.