Chapter 4: Grace

So I was a twin. I hesitated a long moment as I considered what Grace had just told me.

“Are there other siblings I haven’t met yet?” I wondered. Grace just sat there patiently watching me as she waited for me to respond.

“Nicky?” I finally asked.

“Of course!” she exclaimed with delighted glee. “And I think she’s wonderful! She has been so worried about you. Almost every evening after I got off work, she was here. She was afraid of losing you too.”

I frowned at that. I really did hate to think that I caused her pain.

“We’ve spent hours talking together,” Grace continued. “I told her all about growing up here in East Tennessee and where the best places to shop are. She told me all about growing up in New York, traveling to Europe, and where all the best shopping places are in Manhattan. You all are so lucky to get to go so many places. My Mom took us to Myrtle Beach once, and we went to Nashville for our senior class trip this spring. That was pretty interesting.”

She paused then laughed. “Listen to me just prattling on so,” she said.

“Actually, it’s pretty interesting listening to you talk about anything,” I told her.

Grace smiled. “I think you need to know that she’s in love with you.”

I knew to whom she was referring. “I love her too,” I replied automatically, as I started thinking about my twin sister. I found myself wondering about the feelings I had briefly experienced when she hugged me this morning. And the very un-sisterly kiss she’d given me.

Suddenly, I realized I had been silent for a while, lost in my own thoughts. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Have you decided where you want to go to college?”

She looked at me pointedly. “I didn’t say she loved you, Michael. I said she’s IN LOVE with you!”

Then relaxing her gaze she continued, “Anyway, like I said, my sister and I had both planned to go to college, but since my grandma got sick, it’s not looking too good. She keeps saying we are going, and that she’ll pay for it, but we just can’t take her money. Not with her kidneys failing, and the costs of her medicines and the dialysis. We just wouldn’t feel right. And besides, if we both leave, who would take care of her?”

“How long have you lived with your grandma?” I asked.

“Oh, we’ve been with her as long as I can remember,” Grace explained. “Daddy died in Korea shortly before we were born. Mom was living with grandma while she waited on Daddy to come home, and when he didn’t, mom just stayed and grandma helped raise us.”

She paused then, and I saw a tear form in her eye as she looked at me.

“Grace. You don’t have to...” I started.

“No. It’s okay now. It’s just that it still hurts a little.” There was a long pause before she continued. “Mom died from pancreatic cancer three years ago this summer,” she told me.

Grace had been sitting on the bed, leaning over the rolling tray to feed me. After I had finished eating, she had simply leaned back as we continued talking. Now though, I felt her need to be touched, to be hugged. So I pushed the rolling tray away from the bed and raising up slightly, held out my arms to her.

When she came to me, it was a lot like the feelings I had gotten before, but softer, not as intense. A feeling of happiness washed over me. I found myself wondering if she could feel it too. I was distracted from my own thoughts by her quiet sniffles.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. It’s just hard to talk about it sometimes. Fortunately, she didn’t suffer too long. She found out in March ... and by summer, she was gone. Oh, Michael, I miss her so-o-o much...” she cried, weeping softly now.

I just held her, rocking my body slightly.

Finally she pulled back and reached for the inevitable box of tissues that are always on the nightstand in a hospital, saying, “I am so sorry Michael. Here I am crying about losing my mom three years ago and you just lost yours!” And then she started crying again.

I let it go for a minute, then putting my casts on her shoulders, I held her at arms’ length and looked into her teary eyes.

“Grace,” I said, “please don’t feel bad. Right this moment, it doesn’t hurt. Mainly because I don’t remember. It’s like I never even knew my mom or dad. I feel bad that someone died. However, I don’t even know how they died. Grandmother said she would talk to me about it tomorrow, but right now, I feel no grief. I feel worse for Nicky and my grandmother.”

“I’m sorry!” she said again. “It’s just so hard for me to imagine how you feel right now.”

“I don’t know,” I said thoughtfully. “May I ask you a personal question? Did you feel anything ... uh ... unusual when we touched earlier?”

“Like what?” Grace asked as she blushed.

“I’m not sure. What I mean is, I know you’re older than me,” I told her, suppressing a smile as I wondered what she would say if she knew my true age. “And I realize we just met ... I mean, I just met you, anyway. But would you let me touch your hand again?”

Now that I knew I could sense her feelings, I had the idea to see if I could let her feel what I was feeling. Sort of the reverse of my sensing her feelings.

“I guess,” she said as she shrugged.

I closed my eyes and made a conscious effort to go as slowly and gently as could. This was my first time trying this with any effort to control what I was doing. I knew I felt safe with her. But I wondered if she felt safe with me?

Instantly, I knew she felt secure.

Then I wondered if she was hungry.

And instantly I knew she was not.

Next, I wondered if she was enjoying this.

Again, almost instantly, I knew she was.

So finally I wondered if she was afraid.

And again, almost instantly I knew she was not.

I was enthralled by the simplicity of how this worked.

For my next step, I decided to try degrees, so I wondered how thirsty she was. Surprisingly, she was a little thirsty.

“Wow, this is great! Simply by focusing, I can instantly know and understand her feelings,” I realized.

Bolstered by my little successes, I wondered what her favorite color was. Blue came to my mind. A deep, rich shade of blue. I opened my eyes as I asked, “Grace, would you tell me your favorite color?”

“Royal blue,” she replied. “Why?”

Instead of answering, I asked, “Are you thirsty? Would you like something to drink?”

“A little. I’ll get something in a minute. Why are you asking me these things?”

“Please bear with me one more moment and touch my fingers again. Please?”

“Well, okay, but...” she trailed off as she touched my fingers suspiciously.

It was very different this time. Before, she had been warm and open. Now she seemed more closed. I still had to try, so I wondered if she was thirsty again. Instantly I knew she was. I wondered how thirsty, and it was a little more than last time. I wondered what her favorite color was. Again I instantly knew it was royal blue. I wondered how much she liked it. I instantly knew it had been her favorite for as long as she could remember.

I was going to have to really trust her if I was going to explain any of this to her, so I wondered if I could trust her. I knew instantly that I could. When I wondered how much I could trust her, I knew that she wanted me to trust her. That it was important to her for me to trust her. It was time.

I pulled my hand back and quickly asked, “How long were our fingers touching?”

“Michael? What’s going on?” she asked, exasperation creeping into her voice.

“Please, how long did we touch?” I asked again.

“I don’t know. A second, maybe two seconds.”

“Wow! It seemed like a couple of minutes to me. My mind must have been processing everything super-fast!” I thought.

“Grace, I think something happened to my mind as a result of the accident. Since I woke up, some strange things have happened. I want to talk about them, but I have got to ask you to promise me that you will keep it between us until I can figure it out. Okay?”

“Are you going to do something to me?” she asked with trepidation.

“Uh-h-h ... sort of...” I replied. “But I’ll make you a promise in return. I promise it will not hurt. And if you feel uncomfortable, I’ll stop. But I need feedback. And you are the first person I’ve met that I think I can trust.”

“This is so-o-o weird! What happened to your mind? Are you going to do something to mine? What if it causes something that can’t be undone? Oh Michael, I just don’t know...” she rattled on.

I could see that what I had asked was causing her to feel troubled, and I didn’t want that. So I said quietly, “Grace, you are a truly beautiful person on the outside, and I am coming to believe, on the inside as well. I would like to spend a lot more time with you, getting to know you. What I don’t want is to cause you worry or pain. It is obvious my request is causing you discomfort which pains me. I would not want something as trivial as this, to stop me from getting to know you better. Can you forgive me for asking you to do something you are clearly not comfortable doing?”

She didn’t answer. She appeared to be in a debate with herself. She was sitting on the bed, her legs folded under her, with her hands together in her lap. I reached for her hand and touched it lightly with my fingertips. She didn’t move or even look at me, she was concentrating so hard.

” ... you are such a chicken, Gracie! All he wants is your help. And he says it won’t hurt. But ... why won’t you do it? You’ve sat with him, and held his hand for hours, and you can tell he likes you. Why do you have to be like this?”