GrammaLou

 Short Story Prompt 12: Hyped | Wordcount: 1200 words exactly | Deadline: 2 December 2020

Continuation of  In The Garden of Eden and Into the Dark

 

 

Gramma Louise was asleep when Gigi let herself into the darkened room. Her grey hair was like a wispy halo around her wrinkled face, giving her a fairylike appearance that Gigi adored. She sat in the chair beside the bed, taking the elder woman’s hand in her own. She was surprised at how warm it was, like she was lit by an internal glow that radiated from her heart to her fingertips. 

  

GrammaLou would laugh at Gigi’s thoughts. Her eyes would twinkle, and she would encourage the teenager to make up little stories about fairies and elves. Gigi remembered GrammaLou dubbing herself Gigi’s fairy godmother, claiming that Gigi was her little princess, left under a mushroom to be raised by the heroes of the realm. 

  

Gigi’s eyes misted, thoughts of her first foster parents inevitably filling her mind. They were the heroes GrammaLou referred to. She barely remembered them. What memories she had were formed mostly from GrammaLou’s photographs and the stories she'd told Gigi after Jack died and Brenna left. 

  

Gigi scanned the room for the beloved photo album, finding it in the bookshelf by the shuttered window. Gently laying GrammaLou’s warm hand on the bed, she rose and retrieved the book of memories, returning to her seat. She remembered the photo album being much larger and heavier. She supposed it must have seemed huge to her six year old self, sitting in GrammaLou’s lap and turning the pages when prompted. 

  

GrammaLou stirred slightly as Gigi clicked on the bedside lamp, nestling deeper into her pillow and snoring softly. 

  

Gigi opened the album, unprepared for the rush of emotions that overtook her. The first page had only a hand written note. “Her name is Georgette, but I call her Gigi. Please take care of her. And tell her I love her.”

 

She traced the note with her finger, wondering about the woman who wrote it. About how and why she could abandon her baby as she had.

 

Finally, she turned the page. There was a picture of Jack, wearing his fireman’s uniform, beaming down at the baby girl in his arms. Next came a series of nine photographs of her, posed in the same spot on that old ratty couch. A small chalk board displayed the number of months since her estimated birth. 

 

Here she was on her first birthday, propped up inside the front wheel of the firetruck just at the golden hour of sunset.

  

She turned the page and her chest constricted with bittersweet pain. She was three when this picture was taken. There was Engine 29, all shiny and clean in the background, next to the Station 52 sign where she’d been left by a mother no one knew. Brenna had become her mother, Jack her father. In this photo she was holding their hands, dancing on tippy-toes, dressed in a gauzy pink princess outfit, a huge smile on her impish face. There was Brenna, proud and beautiful in her paramedics’ uniform. Jack, handsome and tall in his fireman suit. GrammaLou stood next to her son, her hair grey and wispy even then. 

  

It was the only family picture they’d taken. The last picture of Jack before he died. There were a few more photos of her and Brenna, before her foster mother abandoned her, just as her real mom had.

 

Bitterness tried to take hold of her heart, but GrammaLou’s early teaching took over, and she let it go before it could take root.

  

The remaining pages were filled with pictures of her and GrammaLou. Here she was dressed for Halloween as Pippi Longstocking. This one at a kindergarten recital. The last page held ticket stubs from their trip to Disneyland, along with a snapshot of her and GrammaLou, grinning in matching Minnie Mouse ears. 

  

She smiled past the lump in her throat. Those were good days, she thought. The best. Just before the Parkinson’s disease became so bad GrammaLou couldn’t care for Gigi anymore. 

  

“Georgette? What a nice surprise.” GrammaLou’s voice was crackly with sleep. She rolled onto her side, propping her head in her hand and smiling like it was Christmas and all the gifts were for her. “How did you get here? Oh, but look at you, you’re crying.” 

  

Gigi sniffed, swiped her forearm across her face, blinking rapidly to clear the wayward tears. “It’s nothing. Just taking a trip down memory lane.” 

  

“But, how did you get here? I thought you moved out of state?” 

  

“Yeah, that didn’t work out so much. They fought all the time and ended up getting divorced. I’m with another family now, but I can’t say it’s any better.” 

  

“Why ever not?”  

 

“Oh, you know. The dad drinks all the time, mom’s having an affair. Us older kids are left to watch the younger ones and expected to do all the cleaning and cooking. I know I could ask to be placed somewhere else, but it’s not too bad, really, and anyway, now I’m just a bus ride away from you.” 

 

“Are you old enough to ride the bus by yourself?”

 

“I’m sixteen, GrammaLou. Old enough, don’t you think?” Gigi rose and sat on the bed beside the older woman, kissing her cheek and hugging her gently. “I’ve missed you.” 

  

“And I, you. I think of you all the time. My little princess growing up without a protector. It’s just not fair, is it?” 

  

“Of course it’s not. But you taught me that life isn’t fair, and we just have to…” 

  

“…make the best with what we’re given!” They laughed, finishing the sentence together. 

  

“So,” GrammaLou caught Gigi’s hand in her own and gave it a squeeze, “what has life given you, that you can make the best with?” 

  

Gigi ran her fingers across the back of GrammaLou’s hand, tracing the veins and caressing the knuckles, giving the question serious consideration. “Well, I like the new school I’m going to. They’re getting ready for basketball tryouts, and I’m hoping I get picked for the team.” 

  

“Of course you’ll get picked. Are you any good at it?” 

  

“You bet I am! I can shoot a hoop from mid court. I never miss from the foul line. I dribble fast, I pass real well, and I can steal the ball from the best of the best. ” 

  

“You must really enjoy playing basketball! Look at you; you’re all lit up just talking about it,” GrammaLou’s smile was infectious. Gigi found herself smiling back. 

 

“I get hyped just thinking about it! I was on the basketball team at my last school, and it was like... I was part of something. Like, I belonged, you know? I’ve never really fit in anywhere, and I don’t make friends easily, but none of that matters when I’m playing basketball, surrounded by my teammates and cheered on by the crowd. Oh, I hope I make the team!”

 

“Of course you will! As your fairy godmother, I will it to be so!”

 

Gigi could almost see pixie dust floating in the air at GrammaLou’s proclamation. As GrammaLou took hold of Gigi’s hands, warmth transferred from her fingertips into Gigi’s soul, like a transfusion of confidence and love that filled her heart to the brim.