A Gift of Wings (2 page)

Lucky awoke with a start, her mind going back over the events in the dream, which were unusually clear. She often had a hard time remembering her dreams, and they seldom felt so real. She had no idea what the dream might mean, but for all its strangeness, it left her with a sense of well-being. She felt warm inside and even hopeful. Snuggling deeper into the covers, she wrapped her arms around her pillow and sank back into slumber—this time without any dreams.

CHAPTER 2

Lucky awoke to the smell of coffee. It took her a few seconds to orient herself, to realize she was in her aunt and uncle’s house. Then she remembered: Moving Day. Hurrying into jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers, she padded down the hall to the bathroom.

As she reached for a towel to soak up the cold water she had splashed on her face, Lucky caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her jade green eyes looked bigger than normal in her pale, oval face. There were slight, bluish shadows under her eyes, and the freckles scattered across her nose were accentuated by the paleness of her skin. Her cheekbones seemed sharper than they had not so very long ago. She had lost weight in the last few months; between forgetting meals and a lack of appetite, she hadn’t been eating enough. She ran a brush through her long dark corkscrew curls and, picking up the elastic band she’d left on the edge of the sink the night before, pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Then, with a last glance in the mirror, she headed toward the kitchen, arriving just as Uncle Matthew returned from the bakery down the street.

After a quick breakfast of coffee and donuts—accented with some good natured squabbling between Lucky and Josh over dibs on the custard-filled—the family split up for the drive to Hyde Park. Uncle Matthew and Aunt Beth took their Explorer, which was filled with Josh’s things, while Lucky rode with Josh in his beat-up Mazda compact. It was another clear, sunny day, and several sailboats dotted the lake, flashing bright-colored spinnakers.

Josh cranked up the volume on the car’s CD player as soon they left his parents’ driveway, eliminating the need for conversation, and he and Lucky alternated between listening to the music and singing along. As they passed by the Field Museum, he turned the volume down a few notches.

“So, I was thinking,” he said, “after the work is all done today, and Mom and Dad head back home, maybe we could go see Icarus. They’re playing in Wicker Park tonight. What do you think?”

Icarus was a relatively new Chicago band that had already amassed quite a local fan base. Lucky liked their music and even owned their first CD—Josh had given it to her the year before as a seventeenth birthday present—but she’d never seen them play. Josh was friends with the bass player, so he’d been to several shows, but the few times he had invited Lucky, her schedule—with homework, her extra-curricular school activities, and the need to stay with G-Ma as much as possible—had not worked out so that she could go.

She realized with surprise and no small rush of excitement that she would have much more free time now. Of course, she had to find a job, and that would take up a lot of time, but not much more than school. And her evenings, for the most part, would be hers to do with as she chose now that she was no longer responsible for making sure G-Ma wasn’t left alone.

Lucky’s excitement was dampened by the guilt that followed close behind. It didn’t seem right to revel in her own newfound freedom when her grandmother had lost so much. Still, she knew G-Ma would not want her to close herself off from life in some misguided attempt at solidarity. G-Ma had been almost childlike in the joy she took in nearly everything she did. Going to see Icarus with Josh was exactly the kind of thing she would have encouraged Lucky to do.

“That’s a great idea,” Lucky said. “I’d love to go see them tonight!”

Josh grinned. “Excellent! Maybe we can stay and hang out with the band for a while after the show.”

Lucky smiled back at him. “Sounds like a plan.”

Her smile faded as Josh took the 51st Street exit off Lake Shore Drive. In just a few blocks, they would arrive at the building where she had lived almost her entire life—with G-Ma, who wouldn’t live there ever again. At that moment, her grandmother’s absence felt almost palpable to Lucky, as if it were a kind of presence, a G-Ma shaped void that Josh, no matter how well-loved, would never be able to fill.

They found a parking space on the street less than a block away from the red-brick, three-story walk-up. Josh retrieved a stack of shirts on hangers from the back seat and placed them in Lucky’s outstretched arms, before grabbing an armful for himself.

“Geez, you’re such a clothes horse,” Lucky teased, to take her mind off her grief. “How does a poor graduate student manage to have so many designer shirts?”

Josh unlocked the building door and held it open for Lucky. “Thank God for Costco is all I can say. It’s the only way I can keep myself in the style to which I’d like to become accustomed.”

Their apartment was at the top, the third floor. G-Ma used to joke that having all those stairs to climb would keep her healthy. Perhaps they had; physically, she was in great shape—except for the plaques that were presumably forming on her brain. Lucky shook her head to clear away the thoughts. Dwelling on them was useless and would get her nowhere but depressed.

Once inside the apartment, she tossed Josh’s shirts across the back of one of the living room chairs. Turning toward the hall, she almost stumbled over the two gray tabby cats that were curling around her ankles.

“Hi, Shu, Tef,” she said, reaching down to pet them both, as they meowed and purred greetings up at her. “How are my babies? Did you miss me?”

“Either that, or they want food,” Uncle Matthew said, on his way back out the door.

Lucky wandered down the hall to the kitchen, passing by her own room and her bathroom. As she walked past G-Ma’s—no, Josh’s—room, she caught a glimpse of Aunt Beth setting up boxes. The raspy sound of the tape gun followed her into the kitchen.

Retrieving a couple of cans of Fancy Feast from the wire shelf in the kitchen corner, Lucky turned their contents onto two small pottery bowls, which she placed on the floor. She stood watching the cats attack their treats, steeling herself before heading back down the hall.

The morning was spent boxing clothes and shoes, purses and bags, jewelry and knickknacks, and all the other things G-Ma had accumulated over the years. The packing was difficult and emotional for Lucky. When she pulled a ragged denim shirt from the back of the closet, she felt tears spring to her eyes.

“She used to wear this to her pottery classes,” she sniffed. “She’d come home all spattered with clay from the wheel.”

Aunt Beth sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, a sweater clutched in her hands. “She loved those classes—after she finally got the hang of centering.”

Lucky smiled through her tears. “Yeah, that took a while. She was frustrated for weeks.”

She sat down on the bed beside her aunt. “I keep thinking that maybe she’ll get better, you know, that maybe she’ll come back, and things can be the way they were. But I know that’s not true. She’ll never get better. Nothing’s ever going to be the same again, is it?”

Aunt Beth reached over and folded her fingers around Lucky’s hand where it rested in her lap. “Honey, nothing ever stays the same. No matter how much we might want it to. But your grandmother has had a rich, full life. And, whatever happens, however this disease changes her, you have to remember that she loves you very much.”

“I know,” Lucky’s voice broke, and a tear fell on the hand that was clasped in her aunt’s. “I love her too, and I miss her—more than I can even say.”

Aunt Beth pulled Lucky into her arms, and Lucky wound her own arms around her aunt. When the older woman tightened her embrace, Lucky felt a sense of relief. It was as if the pressure could keep her from coming apart, from losing herself in the void of her grandmother’s absence.

“Dad and I are thinking pizza for lunch. What kind do you want?” Josh entered the room carrying a box of books. He dropped the box by the bookshelf he’d emptied earlier, and turning, saw Lucky’s face. “Hey… Lucky, you okay?”

Lucky wiped the tears from her eyes and gave a rueful smile. “Yeah, same old same old. How about stuffed spinach with mushrooms and fresh garlic? Oh, and whole wheat crust? That’s my favorite.”

“Sounds good to me.” Aunt Beth gave Lucky’s shoulders a last squeeze and rose to her feet. “I’ll call in the order for pick up and go get some soda. Want to come with me, Lucky?”

“Thanks, Aunt Beth, but I’m okay. I’ll finish boxing up the last of the stuff from the closet.”

While Josh unpacked his books and organized them on the bookshelf, Lucky packed up the remaining items of clothing and carried the taped boxes into the hall for her uncle to load into the Explorer. Then she retrieved the step stool from the kitchen and returned to the bedroom to tackle the top closet shelf.

“There’s a lot of stuff up here,” she said, climbing onto the top step. “Josh, can I hand this down to you?”

Josh opened the first box and glanced in before turning to take the next one from Lucky. “That one looked like art supplies. We may want to keep some of this.”

“Great—more things to sort through….”

“We don’t have to sort everything out right now. We can stow some stuff in the computer room or the storage space in the basement and look through it later.” He gestured toward the box he’d just taken from her. “This one’s full of papers and pictures. We don’t need to look at all those today.”

“Good.” Lucky handed him a stack of photo albums and sat down on the top step of the stool. “I’m not sure how much sorting I could stand right now.”

Just then she heard the rattle of keys and the sound of the apartment door being opened.

“Pizza’s here!” Uncle Matthew called from the living room.

Mouth watering and stomach growling, she launched off the stool to race Josh to the door.

***

After their much-needed break for lunch, it was back to work. Lucky and Josh looked through a few of the boxes from the closet, keeping some items and discarding others. The boxes of papers and photo albums they stashed in the computer room to be dealt with at a later date.

The rest of the afternoon they focused on the happier task of putting Josh’s belongings in place. By the time they were finished, the bedroom was transformed. While some of the items of furniture remained, everything else was so different that being in the room didn’t make Lucky miss her grandmother. The family pictures that had hung on the walls were replaced with masks from Africa and reproductions of East Indian art. The bed was covered with a black comforter, a few beat-up, multi-colored pillows scattered near the head, and a striped Mexican throw draped across the foot. From the walls to the bed to the shelf full of books beside the rummage sale floor lamp and the battered but comfortable-looking lime green reading chair, the space now reflected Josh’s personality, not G-Ma’s.

“This looks great, Josh,” Aunt Beth said, as she scanned the room, her hands on her hips. “Comfortable and very you. I think you’re going to be really happy here.”

“Yeah, I think so too. If I can just keep this one in line,” Josh grinned, giving Lucky a good-natured shove.

“We’ll see who keeps who in line,” Lucky replied, with a smack to his upper arm.

Uncle Matthew chuckled and draped his arm across his wife’s shoulders. “What do you say we leave these two to fight it out? I, for one, could use a shower and a beer.”

After hugs and a quick check to make sure everyone had all the keys they needed, Josh’s parents were gone, leaving him and Lucky to collapse on the couch.

“Wow, even the living room looks different,” Lucky said, glancing around.

“Without G-Ma’s recliner and the rocking chair, there was a lot of empty space. We found those two armchairs in the storage room. They’re not new, but they look pretty good, I think,” Josh said.

Lucky agreed. The armchairs—one a faded paisley that managed to coordinate with the muted green sofa and the other a worn leather club chair—did lend a certain shabby chic to the room. And it all looked so new and different that Lucky again felt a nascent sense of excitement.

“We’ve got some time before we have to leave, right?” she said, pulling the elastic band out of her hair. “I’m going to take a shower—and then maybe a nap.”

“Get your energy on, kid. It could be a long night.” Josh’s voice trailed after her as she headed down the hall to her room.

CHAPTER 3