Chapter Twenty-Two
Nona would need a walking frame.
And a cocktail of painkillers.
And someone to stay with her.
It was lucky she fell outside the house so that someone was able to find her in time.
A woman Nona’s age should have someone living with them in case of situations like this.
Has an aged care home been considered?
Doctors, nurses, and social workers peppered Soph with questions and advice, all of which she struggled to process.
Luie was in Bali. Normally she was the one to look in on Nona and make sure she was okay, seeing as Nona’s children all lived a plane-flight away.
Soph had found several missed calls from Luie over the past few weeks, and a slew of texts that she’d started out answering, but as her addiction had consumed her, the responses had become less frequent.
Nonetheless, Luie had asked Soph to visit Nona in her absence.
This was all Soph’s fault.
“Sophia,” Nona’s voice wasn’t frail, rather it held a tone of admonishment. Soph couldn’t be sure if it was for herself or Nona. The woman hated being seen as weak. “You’re skinny.”
Yep, Soph knew.
At home, she’d avoided looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, but here in the hospital, everything was reflective. Right now, she was stuck staring at herself in the window as she contemplated how she was going to get Nona home. She didn’t have a car. Luie’s car was in airport parking, and Nona’s old car was all the way across the city.
Would it be overstepping to call Eli and ask for a lift?
Nona would probably hex him six ways to hell before they even left the car park.
“And grey. What have you been eating, Birichina?”
Soph wrinkled her nose at the old nickname. A term of endearment for a child maybe, but when it came from Nona’s mouth, it always sounded like a reprimand. She turned away from the window.
Nona was sitting in an armchair, having refused to get in the bed, and her new walking frame was beside her.
“How do you feel about catching the train?”
Nona tsked and jutted her chin at Soph. “Silly girl. Call Maria, she’ll collect us.”
Soph used Nona’s old flip phone to call Maria. Her grandmother and the other woman spoke in rapid Italian. When the phone call ended, Soph and Nona fell into an awkward silence.
“Well?” Nona demanded as Soph fidgeted.
“Well, what?”
“Why do you look like a corpse?”
Soph swallowed back the lump in her throat. For a moment she considered telling Nona the truth, that her new coven had betrayed her, and she’d developed an addiction to vampire blood that had led to her losing her job and murdering countless vampires in her quest to get a fix.
But as she stared down at her grandmother, looking tiny and old in that hospital chair, the words wouldn’t come.
“I spoke to mum,” she changed the topic. “She’ll get into town in the next few days. We haven’t seen her in a while.”
Soph had actually spoken to all of Nona’s children on a video call. The three of them had spent a good fifteen minutes arguing over who’s fault this was and who was going to fix it. Despite being Nona’s least favourite child, Zita was the oldest and closest to the city, and so the other two had nominated her.
Truthfully, Soph was hesitant to see her mother. While she loved her, Zita liked to make things difficult for Nona, which, in turn, made things uncomfortable for Soph.
Nona merely rolled her eyes and said something under her breath. Soph didn’t try to understand the words.
An hour later Maria arrived, and with her she had Marco.
“Hi,” Soph greeted, embarrassment heating her cheeks.
“Hello, Soph.” Marco’s tone was a little cool, but he smiled at her and offered to carry Nona’s bag while Soph helped her grandmother into the walking frame.
Thank the Founders for Maria and Nona’s chatter as they left the hospital and headed to the car because Soph hadn’t expected to see Marco and she had no idea what to say.
Did she apologise for ghosting him? Should she try to come up with some excuse for her absence? Did she just pretend nothing had happened in those intervening weeks?
“I’ll sit with Teresa,” Maria said when Soph tried to get in the back of the car with Nona.
“Oh no, it’s -”
But Maria insisted. Eyes down, Soph got in the front with Marco.
The drive through the city was awkward, to say the least. It wasn’t until they got off the freeway and reached the suburbs that Marco cleared his throat.
“How have you been?”
“Goo-” Soph began, then swallowed the word. Marco wasn’t blind. He’d have noticed her pallor. And maybe not being so good would fill the time since their last date. “I’ve… Been going through some stuff,” she finally admitted. “I’ve been sick, so I resigned from my job but the market is fluctuating, so I haven’t found another one yet.”
It was pretty close to the truth. She had savings, but only enough to last her a few months and she had to pay Eli back, too. She wondered briefly how much a French linen sheet set cost, then decided she didn’t really want to know.
She needed a job, and quickly.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Marco gave her a sidelong look, the last of the coolness gone from his tone.
“You don’t need to be.” She offered him a small smile. “I think I’m on the upswing, anyway.”
“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”
She folded her hands in her laps, suddenly aware of the silence in the back seat. Maria and Nona were eavesdropping.
Marco must have realised as well, for he shot Soph a knowing look, his lips folding over a smile. She pressed a palm to her mouth to stifle a sudden giggle and turned away to the window.
When they reached Nona’s place, Marco and Maria dropped them off, with Maria promising to come back later with some fresh meals.
“Do you want to watch TV, or have a lie down?” Soph asked as she helped Nona up the front stairs, then went back to get the walker.
“Television, Sophia.”
So Soph set Nona up in the living room while she went to the kitchen to see what food there was. Much like Soph, Nona seemed to prefer a wine-based liquid diet. She managed to find a tin of Canestrelli biscuits in the cupboard and ate a few herself while she set up the mocka pot to make Nona a coffee.
While she waited, she tried to decide on the best course of action. Her mother was a quick plane trip away, but knowing Zita, she’d procrastinate in booking a flight. It was likely she wouldn’t see her for at least three days.
Luie and Stefan still had another ten days in Bali. Soph had sent a text to fill them in on Nona’s situation, but had been adamant that they don’t cut their holiday short.
The doctors had said Nona needed someone with her at all times, so it looked like Soph would be staying for a few days.
Not like she had a job to go to anymore.
And maybe this was a good thing. Maybe fussing over Nona would keep her mind occupied, stop her from relapsing.
The mocka pot hissed and Soph pulled it from the heat, setting it on a tray with the biscuits and returning to the living room.
Nona was watching an Italian game show and Soph set the tray on the table beside her before climbing into an armchair so old she remembered curling up in it as a child. For a long while the two women were silent. Soph picked up a week-old newspaper and covertly opened it to the job section.
Maybe she could take this as an opportunity to switch career paths and become - she squinted at the paper - a concrete tester. She sighed and flicked through the pages to the business section. There wasn’t a picture of Eli, but her eyes did snag on an article about SinCorp’s share prices rising with the soon to be announced European acquisitions.
“Your aura is all wrong,” Nona said suddenly, and Soph glanced up.
“I didn’t realise you were a clairvoyant.”
It wouldn’t surprise her, though. Nona was very powerful.
Nona ignored the jab and narrowed her eyes. “So much red. Too much purple.”
Soph sighed and set the paper aside. “I… don’t know what to say, Nona. I feel tired.”
It was an admission that brought Teresa back from witch to grandmother. The creases between her brows smoothed, and she reached over to pat Soph’s hand.
“Me too, la mia piccola strega. Perhaps we can look after each other.”
The need for Nona’s affection and approval hit her with striking intensity. Tears blurred her vision, but she smiled, squeezing Nona’s fingers. “I’d like that.”
* * *
For the next few days, Soph healed alongside Nona. She still couldn’t bring herself to confess the true reason for her illness, but Nona stopped asking and instead plied her with good food, soulful activities and recollections of Soph’s rose-tinted childhood in this very house.
“The dandelion, Sophia.” Nona gestured wildly towards the garden bed Soph was weeding and Soph leaned over, pulling up the offending plant by the root. “Dry it out. We will make tea with it.”
“I know, I know,” Soph muttered under her breath, setting the dandelion in the pile of others she already had set aside for that very purpose.
“Don’t crush the foxglove, it’s about to bloom!”
“I heard foxglove attracts faeries into the garden,” a different voice said. Soph whirled, grinning as a woman with wild black hair and an unlit cigarette perched between her lips stepped off the back patio and onto the lawn.
Nona scowled. “They wouldn’t dare come here.”
“Mum!” Soph rose, brushing dirty fingers on her pants as she hurried to embrace Zita.
Though she clashed with Nona, Zita had inherited that streak of powerful magic and she looked every bit the witch she was.
“Hi, Baby,” Zita greeted, folding Soph into a tight embrace that smelled of sage and amber. Bracelets stacked by the dozen clinked along her arms. “It’s been too long. Hi, Ma,” Zita added somewhat dryly as Soph drew away and Zita fixed her sights on Nona. Soph squeezed her mother’s hand, begging her not to get in an argument when she’d only just arrived.
“Cara mia,” Nona greeted, the endearment sounding more like a barb. The corner of Zita’s mouth ticked upwards, but thankfully she didn’t comment on Nona’s tone and instead went to the old woman’s side and pecked her on each cheek.
“Looks like you’re recovering well.”
Nona opened her mouth to respond, before snapping it shut and narrowing her eyes towards the house, weathered fingers rising to rest against her amulet. “There is a stranger here.”
Soph touched her own amulet, feeling nothing, as she twisted towards the house in time to see a man with blonde dreadlocks tied in a great bundle atop his head step through the sliding door. Her heart sank.
“Babe,” he drawled to Zita, jabbing a thumb over a vest-clad shoulder towards the house. “Where should I dump my stuff?”
Nona’s teeth ground so hard Soph thought they would crack.
“Ma,” Zita said with a smirk. “This is Dante. He’s -”
“Not staying here,” Nona growled. Energy crackled around the old woman with a ferocity that had Soph stepping back.
Zita rolled her eyes and fished around in her pocket for a lighter, bringing it to her lips to light the cigarette dangling there. She didn’t speak for a long moment.
“Doctor says you need someone with you at all times, Ma, and seeing as Dante is my flavour of the month as you so often put it, he’ll be staying too.”
Nona was on the verge of a conniption, so Soph stepped forward and quickly said, “I don’t mind staying a little longer. Perhaps you and Dante could stay at the apartment.”
Though Soph paid part of the mortgage, her inner city apartment actually belonged to Zita. With only one bedroom, it was always a squeeze when Zita came to visit and it was unbearable when she brought a boyfriend with her. Soph spared a wistful thought for the beautiful sheets Eli had put on her bed as Zita pretended to consider her suggestion.
“Well, I suppose I can do that. I’ll come back tomorrow to do some cooking.”
“No need,” Nona said darkly. “Maria has been bringing meals.”
Once again, Zita’s eyes rolled into her head. “Yep, whatever.” Without another glance at Nona, Zita crossed the lawn again. Cupping Soph’s face in her hand. Her gaze travelled up and down her daughter’s frame, but if she had any thoughts on Soph’s frail condition, she said nothing.
She probably didn’t even notice. It had been years since Zita had visited. The argument between Nona and Zita had Soph’s guts churning with anxiety and maybe Zita felt that because she said, “I’ll come back tomorrow, Baby. Text me if you need me to bring anything from the city.”
Soph nodded, then watched her mother head back into the house, calling for Dante to get back in the car. Silence descended on the yard, the energy now fraught with angry fissures. Soph plastered a smile on her face and turned back to Nona, who was now glowering at the foxgloves. “Can I get you anything?”
“My phone,” Nona requested, fingers still stroking her amulet. “I need to call my coven.”
Feeling like a dismissed child, Soph trudged into the house to do Nona’s bidding.