other room. Claire’s heart ached to see her grandparents, yet at the same time it swelled with affection.
“To the movies,” Grandma said, smiling at Grandpa. Her grandparents were having an entire conversation through their sparkling eyes and facial expressions.
Young Claire didn’t notice, too self-absorbed. Grandpa put his arm around Claire. “Great, I have been trying to get Grandma to go to the new ‘Lethal Weapon.’ You know I love me some police drama.”
Grandma smiled at him. “Oh no, that is rated R. Claire would rather see ‘Ever After.’” They were doing it, pulling Claire out of her funk. She wasn’t budging willingly, but they were doing it.
“Oh no, Grandma, I don’t want to see ‘Ever After,’ it’s a Cinderella story . . . stupid.” Grudgingly smiling at Grandpa, she said, “I want to see Mel Gibson’s butt!”
Her grandparents smiled at one another and continued the amorous charade. “I don’t think Shirley and Jordan will approve,” Grandma said as she grabbed the newspaper. “Let me look at the movie times for ‘Ever After.’”
Teenage Claire looked over her grandma’s shoulder. “Grandpa, ‘Lethal Weapon’ starts in twenty minutes. If we hurry we can make it.” Her sulking forgotten, she believed she’d just gotten her way. Claire filled with warmth as she watched herself be lovingly manipulated.
Grandma surprised Claire. “Hey, I am going too. I don’t want to miss Mel’s butt.”
Grandma winked at Grandpa. The scene began to fade away. The last thing she saw was the three of them going out the door to the movie.
Claire wondered why she hadn’t remembered this before. Then she realized that it wasn’t unusual. She’d been raised by an amazing family with unconditional love and consideration.
Somewhere along the way Claire forgot how that felt, the warmth that made everyone within its aura feel happy. The darkness returned, the quietness combined with a feeling of serenity and warmth.
Gradually the darkness intensified and the warmth melted away. In the cool darkness she could hear voices again. She waited.
“Claire, talk to us. Open your eyes.” It wasn’t a command. Tony’s desperate voice was requesting. She didn’t want to open her eyes. She wanted to feel the warmth, to sleep.
“Ms. Nichols, Ms. Nichols.” The deep unfamiliar voice no longer spoke to her, but to someone else. “We will need to begin intravenous feeding if she doesn’t regain consciousness soon. The medicine to keep her unconscious should be out of her system. She is responding to some commands, but we can’t be sure of her condition until she fully wakes. Sometimes the body will do this on its own, shut itself down to heal and to avoid the pain.” There were voices and then she heard the unfamiliar one speaking again. “Her pain seems to have subsided with the medication. It should help her wake.” Claire didn’t want to listen to them anymore or know who they are talking about. She just wanted to sleep, to feel warm, and go back to her memories.
“Get up, sleepyhead. You have a room of your own.” Claire heard her own voice. It sounded happy and playful. However, she couldn’t see herself or to whom she spoke.
“But I like this room better. I like this bed better,” the other voice teased and laughed.
“Really, a twin bunk bed? That’s what you like?” They both giggled.
“As long as you’re here.” Claire could see the two of them, a big mound under the covers, laughing and playing. As the covers moved she recognized herself and Simon, Simon Johnson. She hadn’t thought of him in years. She’d made herself compartmentalize him out. Their hair disheveled, they looked too young for such activities. This was her freshman dorm room.
“Claire, I want to marry you.”
“Yeah right.” She didn’t believe him. Her plans didn’t include marriage. Young Simon, however, meant every word he said. Now as Claire watched she wondered: what if?
“No, really. We can wait until we are through school or we can run away today. I’m not busy, how about you?” He pretended to be playful, but his tone had more than a hint of sincerity.
“Give me a rain check, okay?” Claire nibbled his ear. “I think my dad might be upset if I decide to throw away a year of school to get married during spring semester.”
“I want to marry you, not stop your dreams . . . we can still finish school and you can be a famous meteorologist.” Simon didn’t get upset, he smiled tenderly and continued. “A famous meteorologist named Johnson.” He playfully nibbled on her ear