When we get down to the parking lot, I buckle Ellie into the back seat of our grandma’s newer red four-door sedan. I try to tighten the seat belt as much as possible because there isn’t a booster seat, but the seat belt still hangs loose on her little frame. This time, our grandma does all of the talking. She seems nervous as she drives, and she’s eager to fill the silence.
I learn that she’s sixty-four years old and that she’s a widow now. Her husband, Ernie, my grandpa, died just one year ago of a stroke at the age of sixty-eight.
“It’s been so lonely without him,” my grandma says.
If she is waiting for me to soothe her or ask questions about him, I don’t.
“Your mom is very proud of you,” my grandma offers. “She was just beaming as she described you to me.” She looks over at me. I smirk. My grandma’s first glimpse of me has been of someone who is seething and full of attitude.
“Guess I’m not the sweet granddaughter you expected, am I?” I say.
“You have every right to be upset and confused,” my grandma replies. “This isn’t how I wanted to see my daughter again and meet my grandchildren.”
“You didn’t even call her when her dad died,” I state, incredulous.
“I should have. I know. It’s just … so many years went by. I didn’t know if I had a right to be in her life again.”
“And yet she called you.”
“Yes. And I thank God she did. I prayed for this moment for years.”
“She’s a better person than you,” I state matter-of- factly. And she doesn’t disagree.
The car is silent again except for the radio announcer’s voice reading out the news stories of the day. I point to each street she needs to take to get to our house, and not another word is said.
We pull up to our modest little house. I unfasten Ellie’s seat belt and help her out of the back seat. Grandma is studying our yard. The lawn is overgrown and weeds jut out in several places. Our grandma takes out a duffle bag from the trunk and follows us up the walk.
I unlock the front door and feel suddenly self-conscious at letting this woman into our home. Suddenly it feels unkempt and tired, despite my best efforts. I see how badly it needs to be swept and vacuumed and how stale the air smells. I watch our grandma’s eyes scan the house, but she doesn’t seem to be doing it in a disapproving way. It’s like she’s taking it all in and figuring out what can be done.
“It’s a little messy,” I say, but she doesn’t seem fazed. Instead, she walks over to the bookcase in the corner and studies the three small framed photos on the shelf. She picks each one up and then gingerly sets it down. Ellie and I stand at the doorway, a bit bewildered and unsure of what to do with this stranger in our house who is examining our things.
She turns back toward us, with tears streaming down her face. “I am so, so sorry,” she cries. She buries her head in her hands and her cries turn to wails of anguish. “I’ve lost so many years with her,” she chokes. “And so many years with you.”
“It’s okay. You are here now,” I say with far more generosity than I feel.
Ellie walks over to her and rubs her back affectionately.
“It’s okay, Grandma,” Ellie tells her. And this woman breaks down completely at the empathy Ellie shows her. I marvel at Ellie’s ability to accept this new person so easily.
“I’d always wanted granddaughters,” our grandma says through her tears.
“No, you didn’t,” I shoot back. “You didn’t want me.”
“That’s not true. It’s just … Eleanor was so young. She was ruining her future, getting pregnant. And that man was too old for her, and he was nothing but trouble.”
Well, that’s at least something we can agree on. Our dad really was nothing but trouble.
“And Ernie, my husband … your grandpa … well, he just couldn’t handle it.”
“So you let him make the decision, and that was that?”
“I hoped things would change. That we just needed time.”
“It’s been almost seventeen years. I’d say that makes your little experiment an epic fail.”
I know Mom said that her dad was the ruler of the household, and was very strict, but still. I’m not about to let her off the hook that easy.
“For what it’s worth, I’m here now, and I want to be a part of your lives, if you’ll let me,” she says hopefully.
“I don’t really have a choice. But it’s what Mom wants.”
I spin on my heels and head to my room. I’ve got homework and a million other things I’m behind on. Ellie has cozied up to our grandma pretty fast. For once I can worry about myself while someone else tends to her.
I hear water running, the clanking of dishes, and other sounds while I sit in my room. I try to concentrate on my studies, but it’s hard to focus. My mind is going a mile a minute, trying to process everything that’s happened in the last couple of days: my best friend has dropped me, my mom’s health is deteriorating rapidly, I saw my dad again after several years (and that was a disaster), and now my estranged grandma is staying in our house. This last one shocks me the most. I want to hate her and tell her to get out of here, but the more I think about having her here, the more I know we actually do need her. Or at least someone … and since there aren’t any others stepping up to help out, I guess this is the best option we’ve got.
I lie on my bed and feel the rush of loneliness wash over me. I curl into my blankets, and tears slide slowly down my cheeks, leaving wet circles on my pillow.
Chapter 15
I wake up to sunlight streaming through my window, practically blinding me. I must have forgotten to close the blinds last night. I sit up and wipe away the drool that’s collected on my chin. I’m still in the same clothes I wore yesterday.
The amazing aroma of bacon hits me, and I realize that it’s being cooked in this house, right now. I can’t remember the last time we had bacon. Although usually my stomach isn’t much interested in food early in the day, today it’s growling at the tantalizing scent.
As I open my bedroom door, I hear my grandma and Ellie chatting away. Sure enough, my grandma is wearing an apron and standing over the stove with a flipper in her hand. The bacon sizzles loudly. I can see the grease spattering up toward her hands, but she seems so enthralled with whatever Ellie is saying that she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Good morning,” she greets me warmly when she sees me approach.
“J.J., look!” Ellie shrieks. “Grandma’s making bacon!” She’s very excited about this. I can’t tell if it’s more about having a grandma here or having the bacon, but I suspect it’s our grandma she’s more excited about.
I eye my grandma warily. She takes in my appearance and my dishevelled clothes from the day before, and she smiles.
“Did you have a good sleep?”
“Uh, I guess,” I answer.
“I slipped out early this morning to get some groceries. I wanted to make sure you girls had a good breakfast to start the day.”
I open the fridge, and, sure enough, it’s brimming with food. Far more food than we’ve had in months. My stomach jumps again at the sight. I think of how I’ve tried to convince Joelle to eat oatmeal every morning, and now there’s even a box of Corn Pops sitting on the counter.
Aside from the frying pans on the stove, the kitchen is spotless. In fact, the whole house looks clean and put together. She must’ve been up half the night cleaning and organizing to get our house looking the way it does. She sees me scanning the house.
“I cleaned up a bit,” our grandma says.
“Yeah,” I mutter. Although I’m relieved and pleasantly surprised by the scene, I’m also uncomfortable with her taking over.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she says again.
“Whatever.”
“Okay, Joelle … here is your breakfast.”
She sets the plate before her and the steam billows up from the plate. Joelle and I stare, practically drooling at the sight. Alongside the bacon, there is warm, buttery toast and two perfectly cooked eggs seasoned with salt and pepper. She has even added generous wedges of cantaloupe to the plate.
“And yours, dear,” she says, setting a plate before me.
“Thanks,” I manage. Although I rarely have an appetite in the mornings, I dig in wholeheartedly.
“What should we do today, Joelle?” she asks.
“We should go to the libarry!” Joelle answers.
“The library? Sure! We could do that. Is there anything you’d like us to pick up for you today, Jayce?”
“No, I’m good.” I’m practically shovelling this food in.
She rubs her hands together and watches us eat with a look of satisfaction. I don’t want to give her that pleasure, so I chew what’s in my mouth and push the plate away. I stand up from my seat.
“Oh, here, I’ve packed a lunch for you, too.” She opens the fridge and pulls out a paper bag that is neatly folded at the top.
“I don’t eat lunch at school,” I say. It’s a big lie, since I rarely have money to go out, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“Oh, you come home, then? I will have something ready for you. Just let me know what time to expect you.”
“I don’t come home either. Don’t worry about it.”
I turn to walk to my room but she shoves the bag at me another time.
“Please, take it. You never know when you might get hungry.”
I want to throw the bag and tell her that I don’t want her stupid lunch, but I take it anyhow and storm off to get ready for school. She’s right. You never know when you might get hungry.
I’m in class long before the first bell. I sit at my desk and doodle in my notebook. When Mr. Letts walks into the room, he glances up in surprise.
“Good morning, Miss Loewen. So glad you could make it on time.”
“Good morning,” I reply.
Mr. Letts gives us time to write a journal entry today. I watch as others scribble their words around me. Mr. Letts is pretending to read a piece of paper he’s holding as he sits at his desk, but he keeps glancing at his students — and at me in particular.
I don’t want to write anything that arouses suspicion about my home life and what’s going on with my mom. But then I realize that, now that my grandma is with us, there’s no need to worry about that.
My grandma came to visit us last night. She is a great cook. She made us a big breakfast this morning. I don’t usually eat much in the morning, but it was so good I practically devoured it.
There. This entry is harmless. He’ll never know that she’s come to take care of us because my mom is battling cancer or that we’d never actually met her before yesterday. It’s not three-quarters of a page, either, but it’ll have to do. I slap the journal closed and sit triumphantly. The bell rings, and, when I get up from my seat, I accidentally cut Amanda off.
“Watch it!” she squeals at me in disgust. I let her pass by, and then rush out to find Kurt. He won’t believe what’s happened.
I walk to his homeroom class hoping to catch him, but the class is empty. I check his locker and then scan the grounds where we like to meet and sit together. I check the cafeteria, the gym, and, finally, detention, before giving up. Maybe Kurt hasn’t come to school today. It feels weird without him, since we’ve been inseparable at school these last couple of weeks. Instead I see Amanda standing on her toes to give Luke a kiss. He smiles and pulls her closer to kiss again. I guess they are back together after all.
I slink over to the tree Kurt and I have been sitting under, and open my lunch bag. There is a sandwich, a fresh bakery bun with a bunch of fixings, wrapped tightly in plastic. There is a bag of grapes, a container of cheese and crackers, and a chocolate brownie. My stomach leaps again at the sight. I unwrap the sandwich and take a bite. It’s delicious. I take one bite after another, barely chewing in between. The food is comforting and filling, and right now I need all the comfort I can get.
I look around and see groups of students scattered all over the school grounds. Not one student is sitting alone. Waves of loneliness wash over me.
“Hey, Squirt,” says a familiar voice from behind me.
“Kurt!” I say, a bit too excited. “You’re here!”
“Sure am. Why? Did you miss me?” he says winking.
“Not really,” I shoot back, but I’m lying through my teeth. “Where were you?”
“My grandma had a doctor’s appointment this morning. I just got her back home.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. She seems to be forgetting a lot of things lately. The doctor asked her a few simple questions to see if she knew the answers. Some of them she couldn’t answer. The doctor didn’t say anything, but I know that can’t be good. They’re going to run some tests.”
“I hope she’s okay,” I say.
“What about your mom?”
“Ha. Well, my mom is getting weaker every day. They’ve moved her into the Palliative Care Unit now. Yesterday she could barely walk or talk without gasping for air. I’m scared she’s giving up.”
“If your mom is anything like you, she’ll be a fighter,” Kurt tells me.
“She called my grandma.”
“Already?” Kurt raises his eyebrows.
“We got to the hospital and she was there. Like, sitting on my mom’s bed!”
“No way.”
“Yeah, and she was trying to be all nice to us. And Mom just let her back into our lives like it was nothing.”
“Did you talk with her? What is she like?”
“I mean, I tried to avoid her. I wanted her to leave, but Mom insisted she stay at our place. I had to go home with this freakin’ woman. She was nice enough and all, but how do I know it isn’t an act? Especially since she cast us aside once before. What? One wrong move and we’re done?”
“Whoa,” is all Kurt offers.
“I woke up today to a full breakfast and a spotless house. She’d even packed my lunch. I think it’s all just moving a little fast for me.”
“That’s crazy,” Kurt agrees. “But maybe she’s just trying to make up for lost time.”
“Lost time that was her fault. Period.”
When I get home from school, my grandma has cookies and milk waiting for me like I’m the same age as Ellie. It seems ridiculous, but I thank her and eat the cookies anyhow, because they look so good. Joelle seems really happy, and she tells me all about her day with Grandma, which included the library, ice cream, a shopping trip, and a visit to the park.
It sounds like our grandma is a better babysitter than Mrs. Johnson, and it’s good for Ellie to have someone to play with all day. If there is anything good I can admit about this situation, this would be it.
Supper is already simmering on the stove. It looks like some kind of hearty stew with big chunks of meat and vegetables.
“Did your mom cook dinner for you guys?” our grandma asks.
“How else would we eat?” I retort.
She doesn’t miss a beat. “I mean, did you sit down to have supper together every night?”
The truth was we didn’t have supper together very often. Mom worked double shifts most nights, and she had to race from one job to the other. Most of the time, she’d eat at the diner, because Lou and Freida let their employees eat for free. I’d often heat up a can of something on the stove or pop in a microwave dinner. But I know my mom knows how to cook. I’m sure she’d make us amazing meals if she had the time.
“Mom works two jobs in order to make ends meet,” I point out. “She can’t sit at home and play the little homemaker.”
“Maybe we should bring some of this to your mom,” our grandma says, ignoring my cutting comment. “This
stew was always one of her favourites.”
“Yeah, well a lot has changed in seventeen years,” I remind her.
Our grandma stirs the stew. She seems oblivious to my remarks.
When we eat, the stew is flavourful and delicious, but I don’t tell her so. She scoops a portion of it into a container to bring to the hospital. Except for Ellie humming to herself, we remain silent during the drive to the hospital. After we park, Joelle skips alongside our grandma, the two of them holding hands. I walk several steps behind them, feeling like an outsider.
When we get up to Mom’s room, our grandma gives her a hug before we can. She sets the container of stew down in front of her, and Mom lights up.
“Oh, I love this stuff,” she gushes. I notice that her hospital meal is sitting untouched. She pops the lid off the stew and eagerly scoops a spoonful into her mouth. “Mmm …” she moans. She takes two more scoops and then sets her spoon down on her hospital tray. She leans back into her pillow and closes her eyes. Three bites of stew is hardly a meal. I want to spoon it for her until her plate is clean. Maybe she’d put on some weight and be stronger. Maybe it would help her fight this. Instead, Mom wants to drift off to sleep.
We stand around her and watch as she settles into a soft snore. I can’t believe that we’ve only just arrived and she’s going to sleep. Now we can’t talk and get caught up. I miss her. I want to tell her about Kurt, and what’s happening with Amanda. I want her to sit up and smile and sing and hold us and tell us everything will be all right. I even want her to encourage me to get to know my grandma, just as long as she’s awake and talking to me.
An hour passes. Ellie is getting restless in this tiny hospital room.
“Girls … maybe we should go,” our grandma says. Mom seems to be resting comfortably, and although I’d like to wait for her to wake up, I’m not sure when that’ll happen.
If This Is Home Page 10