She Was Born Again, So She Stopped Begging For Their Love Chapter 10

She Was Born Again, So She Stopped Begging For Their Love Chapter 10

The person who remembered her birthday when the whole world forgot The person who came with bags of food when she was loneliest. The person who always thought she was the best

granddaughter in the world. Gone.

The last person in the world who loved her unconditionally. Gone,

She cried to a long time. Until her tears dried up. Until her eyes ached. Until she felt completely

hollow.

She crouched on a foreign street like a child abandoned by the whole world. No one stopped to ask if

she was okay. No one handed her a tissue.

She was finally, completely, utterly alone.

Five years later, Grace earned her PhD and got a job at a research institute.

She saved enough to buy a small apartment in Boston. Not big, but south-facing. Plenty of sunlight.

She put her grandmother’s photo on her desk. Looked at it every morning before she left.

She never went back to the Bennett house.

Over the years, she and Richard spoke on the phone occasionally. The conversations were always the same. He asked, “How are you?” She said, “Fine.” Pause. Hang up.

Linda never answered the phone. Never called.

Sometimes Richard would hand her the phone. “Say something to Grace.” Linda would take it, say, “Take care of yourself,” and hand it back.

Grace didn’t know how much sincerity was in that “take care.”

She was past the age of caring.

Chloe got married. To a businessman. Grand wedding,

Grace didn’t go. But she sent a gift. An expensive set of dishes.

Chloe sent a long message afterward. The gist was, “You’ll always be my sister. This will always be

your home. You’re welcome back anytime.”

Grace read it. Typed two words. “Best wishes.”

She iliibr’t know how Chloe felt when she saw thour words Relief? Umft? Neither?

She didn’t want to know

That winter, when Grace was thirty five, she got a call.

Not from Richard. From his assistant.

“Miss Bennett, your father isn’t well. He’s in the hospital. Your mother asked me to let you know, She hopes you can come back.”

Grace was in the lab, wearing rubber gloves, a row of test tubes in front of her.

At those words, the test tube in her hand wobbled. Liquid nearly spilled.

“What’s wrong?”

“Liver cancer. Advanced by the time they found it.”

Grace was silent for a long time.

So long that the assistant on the other end thought the line had gone dead and said “Hello?” several

times.

“I understand.”

She hung up. Took off her gloves. Set them on the bench.

She looked at her hands. Pale, Slender. Knobby knuckles. Completely different from when she was

thirteen.

These hands had typed countless words. Held countless test tubes. Done countless experiments. Earned countless dollars. But they had never held her parents’ hands.

She took leave. Bought a ticket. Flew back to the city she hadn’t visited in over a decade.

The plane landed at 4 am.

The airport was freezing cold. Grace wrapped her coat fighter and dragged her suitcase out of the

terminal.

As she stood by the curb waiting for a taxi, she saw a star in the sky. So bright it didn’t seem real.

She remembered what her grandmother used to say. That when people die, they turn into stars.

They watch over the lwang from abeygi

She wanted to ask bey ga andinothier, “Do you see nie? Do you ser your litle girl? she has a Plán poten she works at a research institute. She bought a south facing apartment. Vig don’t have ly worry about her anymore. She’s doing line.”

A taxi came. She got in. Gave the driver the hospital address.

The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. Probably thought it was strange for a woman to go to the hospital alone in the middle of the night. But he didn’t ask.

Forty minutes later, they arrived.

She paid, dragged her suitcase into the inpatient ward.

The hospital was quiet. Only the nurses’ station lights were on in the hallway. The air smelled of disinfectant. The same smell from the day she died in her past life.

She stood outside Richard’s room. Her hand on the doorknob. She didn’t open it.

She didn’t know why she had come.

Had she forgiven him? No.

Had she let go? Not really.

She just thought that when someone was about to die, going to see them one last time was basic human decency.

Just like when she died in her past life, no one came to see her. She knew how much that hurt.

She didn’t want anyone to feel that. Not even the people who had hurt her.

She opened the door,

Private room. Very quiet.

Richard lay in bed, hooked up to tubes. His face was yellow, gaunt. He had lost so much weight.

His eyes were closed. She couldn’t tell if he was asleep or awake.

Linda sat in the chair next to him, her head resting against the back, dozing.

Her hair was much grayer. Her face was full of wrinkles. She was slumped in the chair.

Grace stood in the doorway, looking at them. Felt nothing.

Not that she no longer hated them. Not that the hate had faded. But the objects of her hate had become two frail, aging people who could disappear at any moment.

You couldn’t hate two people about to die. Just like you couldn’t hate a rain that had already stopped.

Linda woke up first.

She opened her eyes and saw Grace standing in the doorway. She froze for a moment.

Then her eyes suddenly filled with tears. Her lips trembled. Finally, she managed two words. “You came.”