Now that you know who you are What do you want to be?

, bThis is the third part of the Bay and Tulya story. It's coming out well, don't you think? You can read the previous two parts here and here.

Finally a nurse came and led the pair to Abi's room. she smiled at them, but there was no comfort in her eyes. The walls of her room were beige, and the lone window looked out at a gray office building across from the hospital. Tulya reached forward but didn't touch Abi. She just looked at her hands and ran them through her hair, then placed them together and began to slide them back and forth nervously. She whispered to the doctor “So? How is she?” She looked angry but it was like an angry with the red replaced with blue. The doctor, a thin, debonair sort of man with clear gray-blue eyes, looked at her, and then at Bay. “She's your grandmother?” he asked. “You're not answering my question,” she said, almost menacingly. The doctor smiled at her knowingly. “Well, then I will assume you are her grandchild,” he mused aloud. “Please. Just tell me. Will she be ok?” Tulya pleaded now, she looked at Bay, and he would not look back. She looked at Abi, who seemed not to be registering anyone or anything, and she looked the doctor again, who sighed. “Dove--” he began, and then started a little from the fierce glare he had evinced from Tulya. He looked at her straight, then, and his eyes were wide enough that Tulya could see the frieze of his irises. They looked like little snowflakes, circling around his pupil. “Pneumonia,” he said. “The scientific term is lobar pneumonia—caused by the bacteria Streptococcus Pneumoniae.” Tulya tried to swallow, but found that there was no saliva left in her mouth to allow her to do so. She had studied this particular bacterium in science class last semester. It affected the elderly much more so than other ages, and could lead to complications, death, even. But no, thought Tulya. That was rare. It happened mostly in developing countries, not America. Abi was a strong woman, she would recover just fine. “We're going to put her on Amoxicillin, alright, honey?” The doctor's voice cut short her thoughts. “I'm sure she'll recover just fine under our care. For now,” --he looked down at his clipboard to check her name-- “Mrs. Simmons needs to rest and let us care for her. You may visit her tomorrow morning.” The doctor picked up his stethoscope and tightened the hold on his clipboard, then spun around and left. Tulya looked to Bay. “Take me home.” she whispered. 

But when the pair arrived home, Tulya could find no comfort in the bright rooms. “It smells like her too much here,” she moaned. Bay took her off in the car, and they drove down to Venice Beach. The sunlight was turning purple, and while the world was slowly dimming and cooling for the night, the rocky sand was still warm from the rays of the day. Tulya slid off her converses and sat on the beach. Bay followed, and watched as she buried her feet into two little mounds on the shore. Slowly, she lay down and Bay began to cover her, heaping warm mother earth sand on her body, until only her head stuck out, and her black curls were tan with sand. Tulya closed her eyes and was soon asleep. Bay lay beside her and found that his dreams were fast to come as well. He had swift, vicious dreams, of monkeys falling from their trees, of hollow painted statues, of Tulya, dancing the tarantella, spinning faster and faster until he could no longer bear it, and he opened his eyes. Looking up, he found no moon, but there were many stars in the sky, and they lit up the night with promises of very far away. He saw that Tulya was softly breathing beside him, still covered in cool sand, that had little fissures and cracks from where she had stirred in her sleep. He got up quietly and went to the car. Lying there were the blankets they had wrapped Abi in, forgotten on the back seat. He took them and brought them back to the shore. Gently, Bay brushed the sand from Tulya and placed the blankets around her. Then, he lay beside her  and slid beneath the blankets as well, and buried his nose in her neck. Tulya murmured, but did not wake.  Bay dreamed again, this time of boats sailing over the horizon line, and of colorful balloons dotting the skies, and of he and Tulya waltzing in the school gym. 

He woke at morning, while the dawn was still gray and the air was soft and dewy and salty. Bay let Tulya sleep and washed his feet in the ocean. Then, he picked up two hotdogs from the man on the boardwalk who was just setting up. They had neglected to eat dinner, yet Bay found that he was not hungry. He returned to find Tulya sitting up and twirling her hair, staring at the waves as they rolled in and out, splashing lace foam along the wet sand. She accepted the hotdog, and they ate together. When she was finished, Tulya turned to Bay. “I want to go back to see her,” she said. “Let's just stop at home first.” Bay nodded and she lifted her feet up from the sand, brushing at her toes, and stepped lightly to the car, collecting her discarded shoes along the way. They got in the car and drove back down the side roads.  

Title Quote: Baby You're a Rich Man, The Beatles