The Light in the Wound by Christine Brae

accompanied such a lonely existence.
    The door opened and I was ushered in by one of their servants. “Ma’am Isabel, your grandparents are waiting for you in the library.”
    I walked up the winding staircase to the glass doors that led into the library. I felt so small. I had regressed into my adolescence and was about to get reprimanded for running away two years ago.
    “Grandma, Grandpa.” I slowly walked over to them and kissed them on both cheeks.
    “Isabel. You are looking well. How have you been?”
    I was about to answer when my grandfather interrupted, “Isabel, what you did to us two years ago was unacceptable. You ruined your future, your potential to get a good education and your chance of getting away from this mess here.”
    “I’m sorry, Grandpa, but I couldn’t live there by myself anymore. That place just wasn’t for me. I’m better here, I’m doing really well in school.” Classic Isabel. Nervous rambling.
    “So, tell us about your mother,” he interrupted, trying to change the subject. And I did. I told them about how she had been doing better focusing on Gracie and Chelsea and her dress shop. That Mr. Glass really caused her to have a relapse.
    We talked for about forty-five minutes, and I felt the tension leave the room. We spoke casually now, my grandmother was telling me about seeing Chris at Holt Renfrew the month before and that she was engaged. Chris was my best friend at the boarding school. We were like two misfits whose differences fused us together so perfectly. I made a note to myself to call Chris one of these days.
    “So, Isabel, here’s what we are going to do. Call the office tomorrow and have them write two checks — one to the hospital and one to your mother’s account. On a monthly basis, your grandmother and I will pay for your tuition, as well as your clothing allowance. Tell them I will swing by the office tomorrow to sign them. I want you to make sure you add finance classes to your major, so you can help me run the business once you graduate.”
    “Thank you, Grandpa.”
    “Isabel, your cousins tell me you are seriously involved with a boy?” My grandmother interjected as she leaned back into her seat.
    I blushed, embarrassed. “I’ve been seeing Jesse Cain for almost three years.”
    “Cain? Which Cain family? Do we know them?”
    “Jesse’s father was a General in the military, Grandma.”
    “Generals don’t make money. That’s why I don’t know the family. Nevertheless, have him come over soon so we can meet him.”
     

     
    That night, Jesse stopped by on his way to attend an offsite Council meeting. I told him all about my visit to my grandparents. He was happy to know that I had made peace with them and ecstatic to hear that they wanted to meet him. I wasn’t going to be in a hurry for that to happen, though. Jesse was already stressed out enough about our lifestyle difference. He had to sell his car to pay for his tuition and took the bus everywhere he went. He refused my offers to have Bernard drive him around. He wouldn’t even get into my car once when I offered to take him home from school. I thought it was so romantic when we would walk hand in hand to his house from school with Bernard following behind us. He also took me on dates on the bus even if I had a car at my disposal. Jesse was just that stubborn when trying to prove a point. And in a way, this was one of the things that I loved about him.
    “Bernard is waiting in the parking lot. Let’s go to your house to pick up your stuff, and I can drop you off at your meeting before heading home,” I offered Jesse one afternoon when he met me after class.
    He took my hand as we continued to walk. “No, that’s okay. I’m going to walk home and then take the bus to the meeting.”
    “That’s kinda stupid. Why do that when we have a car?”
    “You have a car. Not me. I’m used to this. I don’t want you giving me rides everywhere I go.”
    “Why? It gives us time to spend