Waterfall and Eagle

It was Monday morning. The alarm clock broke into my deep sleep at 6:00 am sharp. Time for school. I got dressed, packed my backpack, and went downstairs for breakfast. Breakfast was a bagel with cinnamon cream cheese. I looked up at the kitchen clock. We had to leave right now or else we would be late. I had to keep up my school record of never being late. I told Gram that we had to leave immediately or we would not make it to school on time. She assured me we would be fine. We got to school, late, and we’re walking in when I looked down at what Gram was wearing.

“What shoes are you wearing?”

“My bunny slippers. Why?”

“Gram!! You cannot walk into school wearing bunny slippers.”

“I was in a hurry.”

“We’re already late, and I will not be seen with you in those slippers.”

“Why not?”

“Gram, they do not meet the school dress code. You cannot wear slippers in to school to check me in. I will not allow it. Um, and you’re embarrassing me.”

“What about being late?”

“Oh, just forget about it. Let’s go home, so you can change your shoes.”

She finally agreed. We were at the top of the driveway and in a jiffy she had parked the car and was into the house. In a flash, she was back out and we were speeding down the highway, probably breaking the law, but whatever. We turned onto the road that led to school, and were so close to making it back to school in record breaking time, except for all of those darn stoplights. We literally hit every single stoplight. I was pissed out of my mind. I couldn’t believe it.

“Who hits every stoplight?”

“Apparently, we do.”

“Yeah, but at this moment, when we have a major crisis on our hands?” I practically shouted.

“Calm down, sweetheart. We will get to school. Do you know how often I was late back in the dayl? Hardly a crisis,” she said, dismissively.

“Stupid stoplights.”

“Dumb bunny slippers.”

“So. . .”

“My point is that it is partially your fault, my fault, and the stoplights’ fault!”

“I see your point. And we’re here. Bye, Gram. See you after drama practice.”

“Okay. As if you need any more practice at drama. Think about things from everybody’s perspective, not just the person or thing you are most annoyed at.”

“No promises.”

“Love you. Have a great day.”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

I practically bounded into school, only to make Gram think that I would have a good day. The truth is, this year I have started to dislike school. I have zero friends, and I take shelter by sitting under my locker during lunch every day. I just put on a smile for everybody, so they don’t see the loneliness and abandonment I feel. I even put on a smile for my parents, because how would they understand what I am going through? How would they be able to relate to me? How would they be able to fix my problems? How could they even console me? How would they be able to hear the fact that I am lonely when they’ve provided me with nothing but the best? I just don’t think they would be able to hear that at this point, maybe later.

The phone call came just after second period.

“Hello, is this Kassie?” a voice I did not recognize asked.

“Yes, this is she. And you are….?” I looked around anxiously. I shouldn’t have been on my phone. Rules, you know.

“Oh, why yes. I am the floor nurse at the hospital.”

“Hospital? I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number.” I twisted the phone in my palm, thumb positioned over the red button to disconnect. But I paused. I swooped the phone back to my ear.

“Excuse me. Where are you calling from?” I asked. The skin between my eyebrows tightened.

“I am calling from the emergency department of the Athens Hospital….in Greece.” An accent appeared in her voice.

“Okay. So why are you calling me?” Greece is far away, unrelated, foreign.

“Something terrible has happened….”

“Is. . . is . . . is it my mother or . . . or my father?” I stuttered. They both seemed fine when they left for their trip two weeks ago.

“It’s your mother. She is in serious condition.”

“What happened?” I forced the words out even though I was on the verge of tears. But in the English alcove, I couldn’t just start crying or everyone would run up to me and start asking a bunch of questions, that I would not be prepared to answer. Or nobody would notice. Who cares if the lonely girl cries. I bolted outside, into the peaceful rose garden, gripping the phone to my ear.

“What happened?” I managed to get out a second time.

“I can’t share all the details, but I do know your mother is in a serious state.”

“Will she be okay?” I asked, in my naive way.

“I don’t know. It’s critical. There is a strong likelihood that she might die.”

“What are you talking about? Do something,” I screamed.

“Surgery is an option, but the odds aren’t good. The drugs….the medications…..”

“Is my father there?”

“He is not available at this time. You can try calling back later today or tomorrow.”

“Call back? May I please speak to my father? What do you mean he’s not there?” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The tears started streaming down my face, first like raindrops, and then a storm, falling harder and harder.

“I know you want to speak to him, but he is not available.” Her rote responses were making me very upset.

“You