by Cat Patrick
“Maybe you need some space from your family.” She says it as if she actually believes the words and isn’t just trying to bend me to her will. “One night off. Come on, Linus. Don’t make me forge important high school memories alone.”
I smile, thinking it over. A party—a college party—sounds like a truly good time, the sort of good time we’ll talk about for the rest of the year. Then again, these moments with my grandmother could be the last I have.
“So … ,” Simone says, waiting for my decision. “Are you going to spend the evening with me and distinguished alumni, or are you going to argue with your sister all night?”
It might be my imagination, but the hallway seems to darken even more. No one is around, and for one moment everything is quiet. And then I sigh.
“Simone,” I start, my decision made. “I’m going to—”
THREE
STAY
“—stay.”
Simone’s quiet; I know she doesn’t understand. She’s never experienced anything like what I’m going through. I think of reconsidering—it’s just one night—but once the decision’s made, my shoulders loosen. Even though Gram seems the same, and as much as I don’t want to be anywhere near Natalie, there’s no way I’m leaving tonight.
“Fine,” Simone says. “But don’t come crying to me, Argentina, when you’re the only one without a superhot college boyfriend tomorrow.”
“Promise,” I say with a forced laugh. The guy I like is our age anyway. “Call you later?”
“You’d better,” Simone says. “I’m sure I’ll have all sorts of scandalous gossip. You know how Gwen and Felicity are when they’re around older guys.”
“Total Lolita-land,” I say, laughing for real. “Remember the time with the water bra?” Simone snorts, which makes me laugh harder. When we stop, she surprises me with sincerity.
“Take care of yourself, Linus,” she says quietly. “We all know how much you love Gram—just remember to love you, too.”
“I will,” I say, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “I’ll try.”
As I hang up the phone, the light in the hall returns—the fluorescent bulbs and white walls are all their normal boring colors again.
I walk back to Gram’s room. A nurse is checking her vitals while Natalie’s sitting awkwardly on the very front of the recliner near the window, like she doesn’t want to risk getting too comfortable. It occurs to me that it’s like a metaphor for her entire life.
“Is your mother coming back soon?” the nurse asks in a clipped tone that makes me nervous.
“Yes,” Natalie answers. “She just went out for some air. I can call her?” Nat looks at me, and I see the anxiousness in her eyes too.
“I think that’d be a good idea,” the nurse says. “Just in case your grandmother wakes up.”
In case she wakes up?
Before I have time to ask about the alternative—Gram not waking up—the nurse briskly leaves the room.
Panicked, I turn to Natalie. I don’t know how or why, but I see my sister in that moment—really see her. She’s got a tough outer shell, but she’s loyal to those she loves. And one of the people she loves the most is dying. We are the same, she and I. For the first time in a long while, I go and sit next to her.
“I don’t want to fight,” I say quietly. My mouth is dry, and I’m actually nervous to be having this conversation. It strikes me as strange—after all, she’s my sister. “I don’t think I can fight anymore.”
Natalie’s surprised eyes find mine, but she doesn’t say anything. I continue. “Gram’s been there for me, but I’m starting to realize that she won’t always be. And I’m scared.” My face stings with the start of a cry, and I turn to find Natalie watching me with a softened expression.
“I don’t want to fight either,” she says. “I’m sorry, Caroline. I really am.” She’s never told me she was sorry. Never. I let the words linger in the air to unravel the hurt they’ve caused all this time. I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear them.
“I don’t know how we got so … ,” I begin, not sure what word to use.
“It was my fault,” Nat says.
“But I made it worse,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry.”
Natalie shifts uncomfortably. She’s never been good at letting people in. For a while, I thought that if only Nat had my back a bit more, I might’ve stayed at home after the divorce. But that’s just not her … not since we were little anyway.
Under normal circumstances—like if this were Teddy or Simone or even Mom—I’d reach out for a hug. Instead I keep my hands folded in my lap.
Gram is dying. I close my eyes for a moment, wishing it weren’t true, but when I open them again, there she is—motionless on the bed.
Slipping away.
THREE
GO
“Simone,” I start, my decision made. “I’m going to … go. I’ll go with you to the party, but only because I can’t stand another minute with my sister. I swear she waits for me to screw up just so she can throw it back in my face.”
“If Natalie’s going to be a jerk all night,” Simone says, “you shouldn’t have to deal with it.”
I nod, thinking about how many times my sister has belittled me, made me feel like I’m not a part of my own family.
“And really,” Simone adds, “if she’s going to complain anyway, why not give her something good to work with?” I can hear the smile in her voice, challenging and protective as a best friend should be. As a sister should be.
“Yeah,” I say, looking back toward the room. “Why not.” I lean against the wall and exhale. “Hey, would you mind picking me up?” I ask. “That way when you drop me off tonight, I can stop in and say good-bye—good night to Gram.” I pause, thinking how different the word “good-bye” is now. How much heavier it is in my mouth.
“Simone?” I ask hesitantly. “Gram will be okay if I leave, right?”
“Of course she will be. It’s just a few hours.”
A feeling of dread comes over me, but the light in the hall returns—the fluorescent bulbs and white walls are all their normal boring colors again. In a way, it allows me to push away my concern and realize that Simone’s right—it’s just one night out of all the nights I’ve been by my grandmother’s side. If she were awake, she would probably tell me to go to the party. She’d tell me to wear lipstick, too. And a night away from Natalie can never be a bad thing.
“I’m on my way,” Simone says. “We’ll grab burgers or something first.”
I agree, but when we hang up, nervousness creeps up my arms. I’m not a fan of confrontation, and this looming one with my sister is going to be a blowout.
The nurse is just leaving Gram’s room when I get back. I see Natalie hovering near the window, back straight, mouth downturned. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling the rift between my sister and me growing. I wonder if eventually it’ll get big enough to end our relationship altogether.
The minute I step into the room, her judging eyes find me. “Where’d you go?” she asks. “I just got done talking to Mom.”
“I was busy,” I say, reaching for Gram’s hand. Her skin is thin and pale, her lips slightly parted in unconsciousness. As I hold her, I have the fleeting thought that this is it. I want to tell my grandmother everything I’m thinking and feeling. I want to tell her that I love her. Absently I bring her palm to my cheek, imagining that she’s awake, saying how much she loves me, too. When tears flood my eyes, I sniffle and set Gram’s hand back down. It’s only a few hours, I tell myself. And maybe then Natalie will be gone and I can hang with Gram—just the two of us, like it’s supposed to be.
“I’m going out,” I say to my sister, not looking in her direction. “Tell Mom I’ll be home after eleven.”
“What? You can’t just …” She jumps up from the chair. “You’re so goddamn selfish, Caroline,” she says. “Do you think you can just do whatever you want? You have an obligation to this family. You—”
“Oh, shut up!” I call out, my voice carrying through the sparse room. “You’re not my mother—you’re certainly not Gram. Maybe if you had your own life, you wouldn’t—”
“Don’t you dare!” she shouts. “I’ve been the one to hold this family together. I’m the one who makes sure Mom eats her dinner when she can’t stop crying.” My sister puts her hand over her mouth as if she’s afraid she might betray an actual emotion other than bitch. After a second, she shakes her head. “You know what, go. Go, you coward.”
I’m shaking I’m so angry, so hurt. I can’t even think of something to say, can only grab my backpack and race out of there. I’m halfway down the hall when I realize I didn’t tell Gram that I love her, didn’t kiss her cheek good night. But I can’t face my sister, so I vow to tell Gram twice later.
FOUR
STAY
I’m still with my sister, staring at the muted news on TV as an awkward, post-apology silence fills the space between us. My mother and my stepdad, Albert, return to the room, but my mother looks like a piece of ripped paper that someone hastily taped back together. She’s got that shiny redness to her face that happens when you cry off your makeup, and her hair’s fluffy-weird like she combed out what had been hair sprayed before. Seconds later, as if it were choreographed, Teddy walks in with two greasy bags from Burger Barn.
We dive on him like a pack of wild dogs, and just as Nat takes the biggest bite in history, Aunt Claudia breezes in wearing all black with a hot pink pashmina on top. Her bracelets and necklaces clink and clank, even at her slightest movements.
My mother immediately tenses. Aunt Claudia is her older sister. She’s a manless, kidless career woman who lives by business books. She frowns whenever she looks at me like I’m the visual representation of my mother’s bad choices in life.
Natalie idolizes her.
“Hi, Aunt Claudia!” Nat says, mouth full.
“Hello, darling,” Claudia says, managing to side hug Natalie while still staying far enough away not to get smeared with mustard or calories. She turns to my mother. “Diane,” she says. “You’re looking …” Her voice trails off; she doesn’t bother to lie.
“Nice of you to join us,” Mom says, her words dripping with accusation. I watch them, and like earlier with Natalie, I can see them. How my aunt Claudia talks down to my mother. How my mother lets her.
Aunt Claudia startles me from my thoughts as she appears in front of me. “You can’t say hello?” she asks with a chilly smile. Teddy speaks for both of us when he asks how she is.
My aunt doesn’t answer. Instead she turns, like she’s been waiting to look the entire time, and stares at my grandmother lying in the bed. My aunt’s proud shoulders sag slightly, her body seeming to wilt at the sight of her mother dying. But then she straightens and glides across the room to sit next to her.
“Hi, Ma,” she says softly, touching her arm. We’re all quiet until I hear my mother sniffle, and then Aunt Claudia looks over, stoic as usual.
“How long does she have?” she asks. “I’ll need to know whether to reschedule my flight to Cleveland.”
Mom, who’s never been about anyone but family her entire life—maybe to a fault—stares at her sister with her mouth open. Then she shakes her head slowly from side to side, like she’s about to lose it. I freeze with a half-mushed french fry between my teeth, wondering what’ll happen next.
“You callous—” my mother starts.
And that’s when Gram speaks.
“Stop fighting,” she says, blinking her eyes open. “I don’t want those to be the last words I hear.” Her speech reminds me of Judith’s—babylike.
Gram’s eyelids droop as if it’s a struggle to keep them open at all. We all jump up as my mother and Aunt Claudia crowd around her.
I grab Teddy’s arm—relief washes over me. She woke up. I nearly start crying when Gram coughs, gritty and thick. My mother tries to help her sit up, but my grandmother waves her away.
“It’s my time, Diane,” Gram says. “It’s just my time.”
My brother darts a look at me, his face ghost pale. He touches my hand where I’m gripping his arm. “It’s the medication,” he reassures me. “She’s out of it.”
“No, I am not, Theodore,” my grandmother says, matter-of-fact. Natalie actually takes a step back; she looks like she might hurl right on the white-tiled floor. “But I’m not going to sit and waste my last breath when you can’t even get along at my deathbed.”
“Ma,” Aunt Claudia starts to say, when my grandmother turns to her. They both pause, an unspoken mother-daughter look passing between them. The tears in Aunt Claudia’s eyes brim over, and my grandmother reaches to brush her hair back, the same way she’s done for me a million times.
“Let me talk to the kids,” Gram says quietly, gentle words that make my aunt look down. She waits for a minute, then leans to kiss Gram’s cheek before walking out. My mom, stunned and devastated that she has to leave, can’t seem to move until Albert comes over to take her elbow. He guides her from the room, and when she looks back, my gram winks at her.
I can’t help it—I start to sob.
“Take her outside, Teddy,” Gram says. “I want to talk to Natalie for a minute.”
My brother puts his arm around me and forces me to the door; I turn and watch Natalie as she goes to lay her head on Gram’s shoulder.
“Now, hush,” Gram says, brushing her hair.
Their moment is private, intimate. I feel like I’m peeking into a relationship I didn’t know they had, and I’m jealous. I’m jealous that Gram didn’t ask for me first.
“Come on, Coco,” Teddy says, pulling me out. And when the door shuts behind us, I’m suddenly adrift in my loneliness as I wait for my grandmother’s last words, hoping that she lasts long enough to give them to me.
FOUR
GO
I’m staring listlessly out the passenger window as Simone pulls onto Dover Street. The radio is blaring Electric Freakshow; Felicity and Gwen sing along—purposely off-key—in the back. I check my phone to see if anyone has texted from the hospital, but no one has. I’m suddenly so alone—even in a car filled with my friends.
“Check it out, Linus.” Simone has to shout over the music. I turn to look out the windshield and immediately groan. Cars line both sides of the street, all leading up to a house that might as well have a banner that reads PLEASE CALL THE COPS. We drive by once looking for parking, earning a few catcalls from the lawn dwellers, then turn around and try again.
“I’m pretty sure you said low-key college party when you picked me up,” I say, looking pointedly at Simone.
“Did I?” she asks innocently, avoiding my glare. The day has gone dark, but there are only a few stars out. The sky is strange tonight, and I can’t help but feel strange too.
I’m suddenly nervous, even though the party doesn’t look exactly wild. There’s a dude wearing a plaid sweater-vest, kicking a hacky sack in the driveway. And yet the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I check my phone again. Nothing.
We end up parking three blocks away, a fact that Felicity complains about the whole time we walk through the crisp October air. Gwen nearly kills herself in the spike-heeled boots she’s wearing, and when she’s not groaning about the “hike,” Felicity chatters on about looking for a quality guy. She calls dibs on the sweater-vest.
Although Simone and I have been hanging out with them since last year, it’s pretty clear this is more of a convenience friendship than anything. Lunches and parties—that’s about the extent of our interactions. I’m not close to them like I am with Simone. She and I are forever.
Just then Simone loops her arm through mine. “Guess who I heard will be here tonight?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Joel.”
My stomach flips. “That’s nice,” I say, trying not to give anything away. But her laugh echoes down the street.
“Oh, yes. It is very nice. And from what I hear, Lauren is currently out of town visiting fami
ly.” I abruptly stop walking, nearly pulling Simone’s arm from its socket. Felicity and Gwen keep going, calling back that they’ll meet us inside. When Simone turns to me, I stare her down.
“You knew this all along, didn’t you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “Is that why we’re really here?”
Simone’s red-stained lips pull into a broad smile. “It’s not like your longing looks in Joel Ryder’s direction have gone unnoticed. Don’t ever say I never did anything for you, Linus.” She smacks a kiss on my cheek and walks up the driveway to the house, giving the sweater-vest a teasing whistle as she passes. He salutes in response.
As I stand watching after her, listening to the sounds of muffled music leaking from the front door, my thoughts turn back to Gram.
I would do anything for her. Anything in the world. But instead of sitting at her side, I’m here at a party. I can’t help but think that maybe my sister is right—I am selfish. I sigh heavily.
You’re here; make the most of it, I think, rationalizing that I’ll be back with Gram in a few hours. I lift my chin and walk inside.
There’s a couple standing inside the entry, blocking my way as they argue over whether or not he was checking out his ex. I clear my throat and quietly say “excuse me,” but neither budges. Simone gets farther down the hall and I try to interrupt again, this time earning a glare from the girlfriend. I’ve started to wonder if I’ll be stuck in the breezy entryway for the rest of my life when I feel someone push in behind me.
“Excuse you,” I say, holding up a palm to stop from being flattened between the door and the wall. The pusher—a blond, blue-eyed typical college random—looks at me in surprised amusement.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there,” he says, too earnest to be serious. “It’s just that sometimes I don’t know my own superhuman strength.” Just to prove it, he pretends to crash through the door—mouthing explosions and slow-motion roars—before shutting it gently behind him.
I can’t help it; I laugh. “Forgiven,” I say. “But they might be your kryptonite.” I motion to the couple, who have now reached complete breakdown status. “Good luck getting past them. They’re like the bouncers from hell.” The guy glances at them, sizing up the situation before taking a spot against the closed door next to me.
