Makani shriveled with revulsion. Now she understood.
“It’ll happen over my dead body,” Grandma Young said. “And I’m hard to kill.”
Ollie burst into unexpected laughter. He covered his mouth with a hand, but Makani and her grandmother finally broke into smiles. He gestured to a cloth tote bag. “Hey,” he said. “We brought a few things to cheer you up.”
“Oh, yeah!” Makani slid off the bed, and they withdrew each item one-by-one like gifts. Purse, robe, pajamas, blanket, toiletries, phone, books, puzzle. All the comforts of Grandma Young’s home. None of the carnage.
Makani’s other home called around noon. Her mother’s first inquiry was, “Are you okay?” It was an encouraging start, but the follow-up was, “I just can’t believe it. There’s always something with you, isn’t there?”
Makani had always been a fleck of sand in the eyes of this person who was supposed to love her unconditionally. She was an irritation, a nuisance.
“Now, I’ll have to fly to the mainland to babysit you while your grandmother—”
“Where were you yesterday, Mom? The police and the hospital tried calling you for hours. I tried calling you.”
“Your father and I were in court. I called everyone back the moment I got home, which is more than he did, by the way.” She didn’t seem to be aware that everyone had not included her daughter. Nor was she interested in hearing her daughter’s version of events as she launched directly into her travel plans. She would be in Osborne next week, probably. She had an important presentation at work—or maybe it was something related to the divorce proceedings, Makani’s hearing had dimmed—that couldn’t be missed.
“And now, look. Look what you’re doing to me.”
“I’m sorry, Mom—”
“I can’t deal with you right now.”
Silence. Makani stared at the blinking number on her phone. Three minutes and fourteen seconds. She’d almost been killed, and her mother had given her three minutes and fourteen seconds. And she’d turned it into her problem.
Of course it was about her. It was always about her.
But Makani felt unexpectedly devastated. The phone trembled in her hand. She hadn’t realized that her mother could still hurt her like this.
Ollie stared at her, unable to hide the empathetic sorrow from his usually reserved expression. Something about that was painful, too.
“Have you eaten today?” Grandma Young asked.
The question surprised Makani. As she struggled to focus, she touched her arm. The wound was sensitive and sore. “I don’t think I’ve eaten anything in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Oliver, would you get my purse? There should be a twenty in my wallet. I’d like for you to go to the cafeteria and pick up a few things. Something that would be easy for Makani to digest—soup or bread. And whatever looks good to you.”
“Sure, Mrs. Young. I’d be happy to.” He found the twenty and gave a low wave of goodbye to Makani as he disappeared.
“She’s my daughter. And I love her,” Grandma Young said quietly. “But she’s a raging narcissist who married an asshole.”
Makani had never heard her grandmother say the word ass. Under any other circumstance, it would have been hysterical. Right now, it only stung like the truth.
“None of this is your fault,” Grandma Young said.
“I know,” Makani whispered. A lie.
“Do you?”
Makani nodded. Another lie.
Grandma Young patted the space beside her, and Makani sat. She patted closer. Makani scooted, and her grandmother cradled her with a tilted head. They sat like this for several minutes. The affection felt painful. Makani’s whole existence was a mess of secrets and lies and pretending. Her grandmother was the only person in Osborne who knew why she was really here, yet she still loved her. Makani wanted to be comforted, but she didn’t deserve it.
Her grandmother released a weary sigh. “You lied to me.”
Makani stiffened. Terrified by her own transparency.
“You lied to me yesterday, and we’ll have to deal with that. I’m not sure how yet. This is all . . . a lot to process. But I love you, and I want you and Ollie to be safe—”
Oh God. Wait. Was this about staying safe from murderers or safe sex? Makani knew it was wrong, but she hoped her grandmother was talking about murder.
“—in all the ways possible for you to be safe.”
She wriggled out from her grandmother’s embrace.
“We’ll talk about it more soon,” Grandma Young said. “When I’m not in the hospital, and your boyfriend isn’t down the hall.”
A tiny particle of hope shot through Makani’s distress. It did seem like maybe Ollie was her boyfriend now. Or that he would be soon.
Her grandmother continued, “But I wanted to mention it, so that I can also say: I trust you. And I trust that you’ll be honest with me from now on.”
I trust you.
It rattled her. Those three words made Makani want to be more open and honest. They made her want to be the person that her grandmother believed she was.
Just then, a loud exclamation trumpeted down the hallway of the ICU. “You!”
Makani knew that voice. Her pulse quickened.
“You saved her!” Alex said.
“She was saving herself,” Ollie said. “Her grandma and I only helped.”
Makani could almost hear Alex’s grin. “Hell yeah, she was saving herself.”
“We’re just glad that you’re all okay,” Darby said.
They burst into the room, energetic bundles of joy and relief, and threw their arms around Makani in an enthusiastic group hug. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed them until this moment. Their embrace rejuvenated her spirits.
“How did you know we were here?” she asked.
“We heard that your grandma was hurt,” Darby said, balancing a box of gas station doughnuts. “Where else would you be?”
Alex leveled a saucy look at Makani. “No help from you, though. Next time, answer your damn”—she glanced at Grandma Young—“dang phone.”
“No next time,” Darby said.
“Amen to that,” Grandma Young said, and they bounded over to hug her, too.
Alex’s hair was woven into a strange and complicated configuration, and a loose braid flew into the air when she spun back around to Makani. “We brought treats.” She opened the lid to show off the sugary rings. “Maple for you, chocolate frosting for Ollie.”
Makani was touched they’d remembered his preference. Perhaps it was only penance for accusing him of being a serial killer behind his back, but she was happy to grant them atonement. Ollie stood near the door. He was holding a tower of Styrofoam cartons from the cafeteria, but he smiled, not in the least upset to be upstaged.
“Mrs. Young, this one is for you.” Alex pointed to a doughnut with orange frosting and black sprinkles. It was a Halloween doughnut.
“Because your house is always so seasonal,” Darby explained.