"I'll call you when we get to Omaha. Finn wants to visit some baseball thing. We won't stop in Chicago like I wanted because this is a 'special' trip and 'we can go to Chicago any old time.'"
Kurt had been micromanaging the Hummel-Hudson trip itinerary ever since the New Directions landed back in Ohio. Blaine still can't see how Kurt will plan a cross-country road trip to the Grand Canyon, make a list of colleges to tour (and subsequently apply to), write "Pip, Pip, Hooray!", work in his dad's shop, and hang out with friends all in one summer. Yeah, he knew that Kurt had planned his parents' wedding in ten days and he coordinated a flash mob at the mall in two hours, but the summer plans? They were insane. Blaine will miss their coffee dates, movie nights at the Hummels' house, and those long walks in the park that sometimes led to absolutely delicious make out sessions. He's worried that Kurt could drop their relationship.
Blaine, on the other hand, didn't get the role at Six Flags after all, so no moving to Aunt Sandra's house in Illinois for the summer. It was for the best, since Gramma's staying with them now.
He had gone to visit Gramma just once last semester, over Easter break from Dalton. Ellie Anderson flew down to Houston in April while Gramma, her mother, recuperated from emergency surgery. While at Dalton, he called his mother every day and Skyped with her weekly. She sounded more withdrawn, drained, tired after every call. They developed a script for their conversations: she would vent about Gramma's care, while he, in turn, would talk about school and helping out Sam's family.
Blaine hated hospitals. Gramma wasn't healing well. The incision site was still inflamed. She retained most of the saline pumped into the IV and she was in a lot of pain from everything else. Gramma and Blaine were unrecognizable to each other. Blaine hadn't felt so relieved or stressed in his life once he saw her.
Gramma was very independent; after Blaine's grandfather died of stroke at a young age, Gramma worked through secretary school while raising Ellie as a single mother. Somehow she parlayed bookkeeping and phone skills into a jet-set lifestyle, taking Ellie with her across Europe, Asia, and South America. Gramma sent Ellie back to the States in time for puberty. She felt abandoned at boarding school, what with the unrelenting structure and never-ending hormonal drama from the other girls. She begged to have just one more traveling year after high school, and then Ellie flew out to meet Gramma in Hong Kong, bound for the Australian outback. On the way to Alice Springs, Ellie met Albert, a geology student. To a cosmopolitan yet shy young woman like Ellie, Albert cut quite a dashing figure.
Blaine looked at the sleeping form of Gramma, stirring fitfully. In ten minutes' time, he will wake her up for her nighttime pills. Gramma will give Blaine a sleepy smile, sweet and childlike, all the while begging for the pain pills with her eyes. "Thank you, Blaine. Good night," she will say, greedily swallowing the pills as if she were simply sipping water.
He gritted his teeth in anticipation of their next meeting. How dare this interaction be the most positive, closest connection he's ever had with her? She often told of her adventures around the world with Ellie (and some when she left Ellie at school). A single mother and daughter just didn't do the things that Gramma and Ellie did on their travels, and certainly not in the 60s or 70s. So what makes his "unconventional" life so repulsive? Why can't he hold Kurt's hand next to Gramma when Blaine's older sister Adelaide regularly jumps her dirty hipster boyfriends in front of her? A small part of him craves those late night looks of gratitude from Gramma, until her eyes shift from his down to the pills in his palm.
"Take another sip, Gramma. You won't choke like last time." Blaine set the water glass on Gramma's nightstand. "I love you, Gramma. Good night," he said under his breath.
Gramma was having another bad day; she screamed, shivered, and shook. Ellie and Blaine sat next to her on the daybed to calm her down. Her eyes roamed the living room, searching for the drawer of pills. Earlier that week, Ellie and Blaine decided that Gramma's narcotics and sleeping pills must stay upstairs under lock and key. Blaine kept the box in his room; after all, if Gramma ever managed to get up the stairs, why would she want to look in that perverted boy's room? Gramma leapt up and paced, singing "I want to stop, I need to stop" as a mantra. Blaine felt a buzz in his pocket.
"We've checked in the next hotel & Finn's in the pool already. U wanna talk? – K"
"Call u in 20. Gramma's pacing again. 3 – B"
"D: - K"
Gramma curled up on her bed, exhausted from the jitters and pacing. She closed her eyes as her grandson closed the door. Blaine, acting as nightly sentry, sat on the couch in front of the guest bedroom (currently Gramma's room). He fired up his laptop, expecting to watch another movie, but a glowing Skype icon had other plans.
"Oh, Blaine, you look so tired. Was she that bad today?" Kurt himself looked a little rumpled from the long car ride.
"I'm fine, don't worry about me."
"But I do, Blaine. Your mom is using you as an unpaid nursing assistant to a bigoted, addicted old woman simply because she's your grandmother. Do you talk to anyone else besides me about her?" Kurt looked concerned.
"Well, the Dalton guys all went home, and I've talked to Sam and Mercedes a couple of times. Everyone's too busy. You know how hard it is for us to get in contact." Blaine hoped that didn't sound too rehearsed. Lately, he didn't want to talk to anyone; sometimes he'd ignore Kurt's texts, or "go silent" on Facebook.
"I talked to Mercy five minutes ago and she hasn't heard from you in over a week. Blaine, I really want to help you more. But you can't keep pretending that everything's all right when it clearly isn't." Kurt stared intently at him, all too knowing of what Blaine was going through. He, too, had found it hard to accept help when his dad was in the hospital. Blaine looked at Kurt stonily, as if he put the stones in Gramma's gallbladder and pumped her full of morphine. "Look, if you smile at me I'll show you one of your souvenirs!"
Blaine was easily bribed. He formed a classic showface that would make their rivals Vocal Adrenaline proud.
"I said smile, not dazzle!" Kurt pouted.
"See, I am fine. You know that I can't pull a showface when I'm down. Remember that Warblers practice after I got a C on the English project? I was more depressed over that than when Pavarotti died."
"But you managed an A minus overall in English, so little harm. Besides, we didn't end up kissing as a result."
Blaine laughed. "You're right, Kurt. Now do I get to see my ironic dream catcher?"
"As if I'd get you something so tacky. You, my dear, will receive a lovely coffee mug!" Kurt turned around and retrieved a bright orange mug.
"Oh, thank you, Kurt! I will think of you whenever I have my medium drip." Blaine relaxed, taking comfort in how easy everything seems when he's talking to Kurt. They chatted for a few more minutes, then Kurt was summoned by his family.
"I'll text you later, okay? You go get some sleep." Kurt glanced down and shared a secret smile with his knees. "I- I love you."
"I love you, too. Good night, darling." They logged off before Blaine could say "thank you".
The house was still, quiet. Blaine couldn't concentrate. He stared at Gramma's door for a while, listening for her stifled groans of pain. The night shift was so lonely. Sure, all Blaine had to do was give Gramma her pills at 2, and then he could go to sleep. But each time he closed the door, a part of him wilted from stress. The day shift was emotional. He'd end up laughing at whatever story Gramma felt like telling, or his face would fall ashen at her haranguing. Ellie could better sense when Gramma was in her "moods", so she'd take the day shift for him more often.
Sometimes, after he finished talking to his dad on the phone, he heard his mom crying.
He wanted to cry too, but he couldn't; he had to be the "man of the house" when he'd rather curl up in the dark and hide forever.