I lean over my mom and kiss her forehead.
“I love you,” I whisper. Tears prick my eyelids as I say it. I wish she could feel just how much love I have for her, but she doesn’t even move.
Chapter 16
On Monday morning, I receive my journal back from Mr. Letts. I flip it open to my latest entry and find his comment:
Most grandmas tend to have a knack for cooking, don’t they? My own grandma was a lousy cook who often kept food years after its expiry date. We all thought we’d get sick. We’d try to take her out for dinner whenever we saw her so we didn’t have to eat at her house. You are lucky to have a grandma who can cook. It sounds like she really cares about you, since breakfast IS the most important meal of the day.
His response catches me off guard, and I smile. Little does he know that my grandma only started caring about me less than a week ago, and that I really don’t know much about the woman. I picture him staring at his grandma’s mouldy meals and I feel a little better knowing that mine can cook. I look up from my journal, and Mr. Letts and I exchange smiles.
Kurt doesn’t show up for school again. I try calling him at home, but no one answers.
It is Thursday before I see Kurt again. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he isn’t as talkative as usual.
“Kurt!” I run toward him and he opens his arms for a hug. He gives me a wry smile, but he seems subdued. “Where have you been?”
“It’s my grandma,” he replies. “She’s getting worse.”
I nod and lace my fingers through his. I want to hear more.
“She fell on Sunday. She broke her hip, and she’s black and blue practically everywhere.”
“Oh no!” I gasp.
“I had taken a nap, and she thought she could try and go for a walk, but of course she needed help. Her fall woke me up. I went running to her. She kept saying she was going to visit her daughter and her husband because they’d just had a baby.”
I look at him quizzically.
“Jayce, she meant me. I’m the baby she’s talking about! She thought it was 1997.”
“Oh, Kurt, I’m so sorry.” Kurt’s brow is furrowed and his eyes are downcast. I can feel his hand shaking a bit in mine.
“It’s worse than I thought,” he admits. “She’s going to be in the hospital for a while.”
“How come you didn’t call me? I could’ve come to help,” I say.
A small smile escapes his lips. “Yeah, okay, J.J. ’Cause you’re not going through things yourself, right?”
“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”
We grow silent and walk down the hallway together. I wish Kurt was his happy, joking self. We turn toward the stairs that lead to the school’s front entrance. The stairwell is empty so I bound down the stairs two at a time. When I get to the bottom, I realize that Kurt hasn’t followed. I turn back. He is sitting on the top step with his head in his hands.
“Kurt?” I call back to him. I race back up to the top and put my arm around him. He reaches for my hand. “Kurt?” I repeat. I feel his body shudder and his hand grips mine tighter. He is crying. I don’t know what to say. He looks up at me, with pain on his tear-stained face.
“What if she forgets me for good?”
Chapter 17
The next week passes uneventfully. I go to school, head to the hospital after supper with Joelle and our grandma, and then come home and try to focus on my homework. Mom’s health is not improving, and she spends more time sleeping with each passing day. She lights up every time she sees us, and I know she wishes she could be at home with us, too.
Kurt has also been spending as much time as he can at the hospital with his grandma. With both of our loved ones in different hospitals, we talk as often as we can. It feels like we’re a lifeline for each other these days — we help each other try to make sense of what’s going on as the people we love the most are slipping away from us.
Our grandma is still cleaning, making meals, and taking care of us. Although she keeps trying to connect with me, I hold her at a distance. She and Ellie have grown quite close, and Ellie rarely wants to be with me anymore, now that our grandma is around. It makes me a little sad, but I know it’s good for Ellie. As much as I don’t want to admit it, having someone here to take care of things has made life a lot easier.
In just a couple of weeks, school will be out for the summer, and I’ll be able to spend more time with my mom.
Or, at least, that’s what I think will happen.
One night, our grandma sits Ellie and I down to talk.
“Well, girls, as you know, I drove here rather quickly when your mom called and asked for me to come.”
I glare at her. “So?”
“Well, I’ve been away from Meadow Lake for quite a while now, and it’s time I go back. I have to take care of some things at home and pick up some things to bring back here with me.”
“So go,” I mutter. Already she’s had enough of us and is looking for a way out. “We’re fine here without you.”
Ellie starts to cry. “No, Grandma! Don’t go! I want you to stay!” She jumps onto her lap and wraps her tiny arms around our grandma’s neck.
“You’re going to come with me,” she replies.
“What?!” I shriek.
“You girls are going to come back to Meadow Lake with me.”
“No. No way. There is NO way I’m going to Meadow Lake with you. What about school? What about Mom? Who will take care of her?”
“I’ve already discussed it with your mother. She doesn’t want you here alone.”
“I’m staying here. I have school!”
“We’ll just be gone for a couple of days, and then we’ll come back here.”
Ellie claps her hands and kisses our grandma on the cheek.
“Jayce, you don’t have a choice. You’ll have to pack your bag tonight, because we are leaving right after school tomorrow.”
I stand from the couch and stomp to my room and slam my bedroom door behind me with as much force as I can. It makes a loud bang that scares Ellie, and I hear our grandma consoling her afterward.
I can’t go to Meadow Lake. I don’t want to go to her home. What if she doesn’t bring us back? What if her plan is to keep us there? What if she wants to punish my mom for all those years of estrangement by taking us away from her? What if something happens to Mom while we’re gone? How will I talk to Kurt?
I think of walking out of the house. I could run away. I could hide out somewhere, and she’d have no choice but to head to Meadow Lake without me. She’d probably call the police, I realize. I wouldn’t get far. I try to brainstorm ways to get out of going, but, in the end, I realize that I probably don’t have a choice. I’ll have to go. It’ll only be for a couple of days. I’ll go to protect Ellie.
The next afternoon we make the three-hour drive to Meadow Lake. I stare at the landscape as we drive. I like the bright yellow patches of prairie that stand out among the grain fields and the dark-green grass. We can see the sky and the land for miles and miles as we drive. It looks so open and picturesque.
As we get closer to Meadow Lake, our landscape changes drastically. We become surrounded by dense forest. The trees are thick and majestic, and we even see deer and a moose cross the road at different points in time. It almost feels like I’m about to enter another world, only because our grandma’s house is as foreign to us as this forested landscape. I’m getting more nervous the closer we get.
Then suddenly the forest ends and the landscape breaks wide open again. We drive for a little while longer, and then I see the sign welcoming visitors to Meadow Lake. Our grandma turns down the first street she comes upon and heads through town without stopping. We end up on a dirt road that is heavily treed, and I start to wonder where she’s actually taking us.
“We’re here,” she says, pulling into a yard
just off the road. Trees surround the entire property.
“This is like in the middle of nowhere,” I point out.
“It’s very peaceful here,” she says. “You might like it.”
I look up at the two-storey house. It has light-yellow siding with white trim, and there are baskets of flowers hanging everywhere. On the wraparound porch, there are rocking chairs adorned with blankets and throw pillows. Everything is well-kept and tidy. It looks like a pretty nice place.
“This is where your mother grew up,” our grandma tells us, opening Ellie’s car door. Ellie jumps out of the car and runs toward the house.
“I want to see Mommy’s room.”
“I can show you her room,” our grandma says. “Just let me get our things out of the car.”
I grab a couple of our bags and follow our grandma into her house. I can’t believe I am standing in our grandparents’ home, in the house where my mom spent her childhood. How would Mom feel coming back to this place? Would this bring her comfort or pain?
The inside of the house looks like a rustic cottage, with its pine siding, hardwood floors, and wooden kitchen cabinets. There are a lot of windows, so it feels bright and airy. It is immaculately clean. Some photos line the walls, but mostly I see wooden crosses and plaques of Jesus and Mary. I step closer to the photos, hoping to catch a glimpse of my mom and her brother in their youth, but the photos are of older people.
“Those are your great-grandparents.” She catches me studying the photos. I don’t see any resemblance to us.
“This is your mom. And your uncle.” She picks up a photo frame beside the couch. It is the same photo that Mom has in the box hidden in her closet.
“You know, I didn’t even know she had a brother until about two weeks ago.”
“Really? She never talked about him?”
“No. I found a box of her keepsakes, and this picture was in it. I asked her about it, and then she told me what happened to him.”
“It was really hard on Eleanor.” Our grandma swallows and takes a deep breath. “It was hard on all of us.” Her body shakes with emotion and she blinks back the tears that begin to erupt.
“Then you shut her out, too. She had no one. No wonder she ran off with my dad.”
“She thought your dad was the best thing to happen to her. We had our doubts about him. And she was so young.… How long did your dad stick around?”
“Longer than you did.”
“Jayce, I swear to you, I’ll spend the rest of my life making that mistake up to you and your sister. And your mom.”
“Where’s her room?”
“It’s upstairs. Follow me.” Ellie and I trail behind her up the stairs. She stops at the door closest to the staircase and swings it open.
Ellie and I step gingerly into the room. The walls are a soft peach colour, and posters of teenage stars are taped onto the wall beside her bed. I don’t recognize any of them. There is a corkboard over a desk that has pictures of Mom and her friends tacked onto it. Jewellery is stacked in piles on her desk. There are stuffed animals on her bed, which is neatly made and ready to sleep in. Even her slippers are lined up by the door. What catches me the most are the dozens of drawings that adorn the rest of the space. Ellie and I don’t say a word. We just take it all in.
“It’s not much different,” our grandma says. “I kept everything the same over the years, in case she ever came back home.” She walks over to one of Mom’s drawings and pulls it gently from the wall.
“Your mom is very talented. She always loved to draw.”
We stare at the sketch of a young girl, most likely in her early teens, standing at a window and looking out at a stormy sky. “I see you love to draw, too,” our grandma says. How does she know this about me?
I picture my mom sitting at that desk, working hard on her art. I picture her lying on her bed, daydreaming like teenage girls do. I picture her learning she’s pregnant and feeling scared, knowing that her parents might not let her stay. I picture her glancing around this room for the last time, and wonder if she had sensed she’d never be back.
“If you would like to stay in this room tonight, you’re welcome to,” she says to me.
I smile and drop the bag I’m holding. Yup, this room is mine.
Chapter 18
Ellie and I explore the huge lot the next day while our grandma does laundry and makes phone calls. Later in the day, she brings us frosty glasses of iced tea that feel slippery in our warm hands. We play hide-and-seek in the dense shrubs and trees that surround the property while our grandma waters her garden and pulls weeds. She looks at us from time to time and smiles.
In the corner of the yard, a swing is tethered to wooden beams almost as high as the second storey of the house. We take turns pushing each other. It feels great to act like a kid again.
“Your grandpa built that when we bought this house,” our grandma says. Even though my mom said her parents were super strict, I can’t help but feel like this house would’ve been a great place to grow up.
That night, I snuggle into my mom’s bed. It feels weird but also comforting. Mom knew I was coming here. They’d already arranged it. Did Mom want us to see this place? Did she want us to better understand where she’d come from?
When hours go by without sleep, I decide to call Kurt. It is about one in the morning, and the house has been quiet for a long time. I tiptoe down the hallway, trying to be careful not to wake anyone, but the floor creaks beneath my feet and threatens to give me away. I head down to the kitchen, to my grandma’s cordless phone that is mounted next to the refrigerator. Kurt picks up on the first ring.
“Kurt, it’s me, Jayce,” I whisper.
“Jayce? Where are you? I’ve been trying to call you!”
“I’m at my grandma’s in Meadow Lake. I had no choice, but it’s only until Monday.”
“I’m so glad you called.” His voice is wavering. Something is wrong.
“Kurt, what is it?”
“She’s gone, Jayce,” he sobs. “My grandma passed away this morning.”
“Oh, Kurt.” My voice shakes with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”
“What am I going to do without her? I don’t have anyone.” His cries stab at my heart.
“You’ve got me,” I offer, but then instantly regret the words. How could I even think I could be a substitute for the woman who has cared for him his whole life?
“The funeral is going to be on Wednesday. It’s at 10:30 a.m. at St. Mary’s.”
I listen as Kurt talks about his grandma, about how wonderful she was to him. I want to be there to hug him and listen to him in person. How could I be stuck in Meadow Lake instead?
“I’ll be there, Kurt. I promise.”
I say goodbye and slink back to my mom’s room to try and get some sleep.
“We need to go back to Saskatoon,” I inform Ellie and our grandma at the breakfast table the next morning. I’m breathless and stammering. “It’s really important. My friend’s grandma died, and she was practically a mother to him. She was all he had, and he was the one taking care of her, and now she died, and I need to go back …” I’m practically shouting and then I lose all control. I hold my head in my hands and let the tears come.
“Okay,” our grandma says simply. “Let’s pack up.”
Chapter 19
On the day of the funeral, I skip school. My grandma drives me to the church.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” she asks for about the tenth time.
“No, it’s okay.”
I sit in a pew close to the doors. I watch as people shuffle in. A hymn is being played on the organ, but nobody is singing along. A few people dab at their eyes with tissues. There is a large photo of Kurt’s grandma on display near the altar, surrounded by dozens of colourful flower arrangements.
I study the funer
al card. It reads: “Ada Friesen (1944–2015).” The card has several pictures of her with Kurt at various points of his childhood. They look so happy and close. Although I never got the chance to meet her, I feel some sort of kinship with her. Perhaps it’s our mutual love for Kurt. My stomach flops at the thought of seeing him.
The priest asks everyone to stand, and the organist starts a new song.
Kurt steps through the doors alone; he’s holding a small box of what must be his grandma’s ashes. His face is drawn and sombre. His jaw is set. He makes his way to the front of the church and sets the box down beside his grandma’s photo.
One of Ada’s friends from church gives the eulogy and describes her as a vibrant woman, full of life. She’d been a florist during her working years and believed that flowers could brighten anyone’s day. She would’ve loved all the flowers here, I think to myself. I learn that although she’d been married at a young age, she’d lost her husband in an industrial accident. She became a single parent to a five-year-old and never remarried. Her greatest joy in life was her grandson, Kurt, whom she raised from the age of two. And, the eulogist continues, Kurt turned out to be her biggest blessing, as well, as he took care of Ada when her health started to fail, even though he was just a teenager himself.
Kurt is sitting in the first row with his head down. I can see his shoulders shaking at times. Finally, I can’t take it anymore, being so far away from him and watching him in so much pain. I get up from my seat and walk up to the front pew. I slide in beside Kurt and wrap my arm around him. He settles into my shoulder.
“Thank you, J.J.,” he manages.
At the end of the service, I watch as Kurt shakes hands with people and makes small talk. He looks so handsome and distinguished. I wonder if his grandma is smiling at his polished appearance, so different from his usual leather jacket, unkempt hair, and Converse shoes. That is the true Kurt, though — the one I love best.
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