On the Altar

Chapter 12

POV-Crystal, age 16

I wake up from my dreamless slumber about fifteen minutes before the flight landed in California. Misty and I unloaded our bags from the overhead compartment, and as we had no heavy suitcases, we didn't have to wait for the baggage reclaim. We hailed a cab to get to Santa Monica, where Misty's grandparents lived, and I dozed off, again, in the cab.

Damn, pregnancy makes me tired.

After a while, Misty wakes me up and says, "Christy, we're here." And to be honest, if Misty keeps on talking to me in such a gentle tone, I don't know whether I'd pop them out right now or be pregnant forever.

We took our bags and walked to the Watson's driveway. As we reach the house, which is like a tiny mansion, really, we see the 67 years old Grandpa Watson twirling Grandma around. They're so carefree and uninhibited, it feels like we're watching two young newlyweds, who don't have a care in the world. Misty and I look at them with longing, I long to experience that love which makes you ageless.

Misty has experienced it, and maybe, just maybe, I feel, she wants it back.

But I would advise her against it, as I have reminded her time and again,

My stronzo brother does not deserve her.

"Grandpa, you'll throw your back out!" Misty calls out playfully. Grandma and Grandpa finally notice that there are other people in the world, namely Christy and Misty.

"Oh, my little princesses are here! Put me down, Henry." Grandma says to Grandpa and he puts her down rather reluctantly. She takes both Misty and I into a big bear hug and then hold us at arm's length to inspect us up and down. "Oh, Christy, you are just too thin! It's not healthy, my dear. Must be one of those idiotic fad diets that have been going around these days. You are eating an entire apple pie by yourself." 

Well, she won't call me thin in a couple of months...

"And you, Misty, do something with that awfully boorish brown hair of yours!" She says as she patted Misty's head. "The only thing you got from that stronzo, thank God." Grandma mumbles and points excitedly to the side of her head and says, "See! I got a pink streak! It's pretty, right?" And, yes, she had dyed a streak of her Barbie blonde hair hot pink.

Grandma Watson is the most energetic and lively person I know. When Misty's biological dad, or sperm donor as she calls him, left her mother when she was twenty-two and pregnant, Grandma supported her daughter unconditionally. Even Grandpa needed a week to warm up to the idea that his baby girl had s*x and was knocked up.

Grandpa lives and breathes for Grandma. He would do anything for all of us. He even considers my family his own. He says, "Family is not blood. Family is a feeling." He considers the boy who broke his princess's heart, i.e. my i***t brother, his family. That's how forgiving he is.

Unfortunately, I'm not. Neither is Misty or Jen.

That's why we get along so well.

"Gramma, did you make choco-chip cookies?" Misty asks her like a child would.

"Yes, of course I did, princess." Grandma answers lovingly.

"Did you make gingerbread men and plum cake?" I ask her, my mouth watering at the idea.

"An entire batch for you, my dear." She says with a smile.

"Well, don't you see me standing here?" Grandpa asks in a huff, from where he is standing near the garage. I walk over to him, saying, "Grandpa! I didn't even recognize you! You've gotten fit."

"Did you fix the roof by yourself or did you call a handyman, like a normal person?" Misty asks him with a warning tone. The roof, or rather, who fixed it last, is their favorite topic to argue on.

"Handymen take too much money for teeny bits of work. Chris fixed it for me when he visited for Easter. Remember, princess? You had some test to study for and a paper to write on ovaries and whatnot." Grandpa says nonchalantly.

I notice that Misty stiffens a bit at the mention of his name, and speak of the devil, there he comes!

My brother dearest.

To distract them from him, I roll my eyes and say, "Grandpa! Misty is studying to be a gynecologist! Remember that?"

"Yep," he answers, popping the 'p' to make a point, "stop testing me for Alzheimer's and dementia every time you talk to me, young lady. My brain works better than yours does." He replies in a huff.

Chris walks to by with a bag and says, "How's that roof doing, Grandpa?" and walks into the house.

Completely ignoring Misty and I.

Well, we should be used to it by now.

After all, it's exactly what happened a year ago.