Thirty Days: Part Three (A SwipeDate Novella)

by BT Urruela

  Turning off her bedside lamp, I kiss the fingers on my other hand and rest them gently against her cheek.

  “I love you, Grams. I’ll be back bright and early tomorrow.”

  As I say this, lifting my hand away from her, I can almost see a crack of a smile appearing on her face, and I smile back before leaving the cold room and heading down the hall.

  “Long time in there today, baby. How you doing?” Jackie asks, swinging her jacket over her arms and collecting up her purse.

  “I’m good. She was asleep the whole time. I just couldn’t bring myself to leave.”

  “Yeah.” Jackie nods, a bit of shame in her features. “That last dose was a little strong. You know, Gavin, it’s the last thing in the world I want to do to her, but it’s protocol. She’s come close to hurting herself, and hurting the staff. She just gets so angry.”

  “I understand,” I say solemnly, as we walk side by side toward the door, and I hold it open for her. “I did my research when this shit first hit her. I know the things it’s capable of doing to a person. I just… How will I ever see her again—the real her—if she’s drugged to high heavens?”

  She passes through the doorway, and pulls her hood up over her head with a shudder.

  “Well, it’s not all day, every day. We try our best not to use it, but once she starts yelling, and throwing things, it only escalates from there. Once she gets on about her daddy, it’s…it’s not good.” She looks at me, as if waiting for me to tell her more, but I’ve got none to tell. Grandma’s childhood was one thing she didn’t ever discuss, and I learned long ago it wasn’t something I should pry into.

  Changing the subject as we reach her car, I ask, “Will you be in tomorrow?”

  “Up and at it with the sun. I’ll see you then.” She hugs me momentarily and then opens the car door and settles in.

  “Thanks…for everything, Jackie.”

  “I love ya, boy. Go get some sleep.” She winks at me as her face disappears behind the rain-coated car window. And then she pulls away into the night.

  I stand motionless for a moment, taking in the cold night air, letting the few beads of rain still dropping fall onto my face and outstretched tongue. I allow my mind to wander, thinking about everything and nothing, all at the same time, allowing my past to clash with my present.

  For the briefest of moments, I see Grandma in heaven, draped in white with this angelic glow reverberating from her skin, like it’s a part of her. She stands with outstretched arms and a broad smile. She looks younger, wrinkles smoothed. Her gray and frizzled hair has been returned to the lush nest of brown it once was.

  “Gavin,” she says, her voice powerful, but distant. “Gavin, honey, come here. Come say hi to your Granny.”

  I smile back, unable to control my excitement. I run toward her faster and faster, leaping into her arms as I reach her. It’s then I realize I’m younger too, a boy no older than nine. She holds me effortlessly, brushing my hair away from my eyes as I nestle into her.

  “Grandma, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much,” I say, and then squeeze her tight.

  “Missed me? But I’ve been here the whole time, dear. And so have you. So have you…”

  “It’s good to see you, Gavin. How has this week been?” Dr. Thresher asks, a wrinkle in her brow as she looks me over. “Have you been sleeping okay?”

  “Is that your way of saying I look like shit, doc?” I ask with a grin, as I take a seat in the chair. She flashes a light smirk, too, before rolling her eyes.

  “Not like feces, no, but you do look tired. Tell me, how have you been?” she repeats.

  “Grandma’s not doing so hot,” I say, and instinctively my eyes fall to the floor. I pick at the leather armrests with my fingernails. “They think this might be it.”

  “Oh, Gavin, I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah. I mean, it sucks. I honestly don’t know what the hell I’ll do—” I stop myself, looking back toward her and putting my hand up. “Not like that, don’t even think it…” Dropping my hand, I continue, “It’s just… She’s the only family I’ve got. I’m gonna miss—” That damn knot in my throat again, the familiar burn behind my eyes where the tears well. “I’m gonna miss her when she’s gone,” I choke out.

  “You know, it’s such a hard thing, to let our loved ones go. Truly one of the worst things. But with your grandma, her suffering over these past five years… You’re suffering too, Gavin.” She stops herself, and I look up to see she’s staring off into the distance with concern painting her features.

  “It’s okay, doc. It’s an honest room, right?” I put two hands up and wave them around her office. “That’s what you call this place. You can speak honestly with me. I can take it.”

  She looks back at me and smiles with glistening eyes.

  “Oh Gavin, you can be sweet when you want to. You know that?”

  “I have my moments.” I lean back a little in the chair and motion for her to continue. “You were saying.”

  “I just think, instead of focusing on the loss, you focus on all the good your grandmother did in her life, for you. For others. Think about the wonderful times you’ve had, and when the time comes, know that she will be at peace, and without the pain she’s endured over these last few years.”

  “Yeah, and when the time comes, I think that’s what I’ll do. But I can’t help thinking about how much it’s gonna hurt. It already hurts. And she’s right here still.”

  “She is and she isn’t,” she says, leaning in on the desk with her elbows. “I think a lot of the pain you’re going through has to do with your grandmother’s condition. Her inability to know you. Am I right?”

  I nod, biting down on my bottom lip.

  She continues, “It’s not an easy thing, especially with the relationship you two had. And maybe, when she’s finally at peace, you can be at peace, too.”

  I nod again, fighting back the swell of emotions and tension collecting in my chest.

  “Are you comfortable with me, Gavin?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I feel like you hold back a lot in here. Even after all the time we’ve spent together. And I know how honest you’ve been with me, so please don’t take this as a negative thing. I just feel like, when things are getting really emotional, when we discuss things like your grandma, you close up a bit. Whereas, when it’s discussing something dealing with anger, you’re an open book. I just wonder why that is.”

  “Anger is easy. I can exist in that world. It makes sense to me. But the kinda pain associated with loving someone? It’s unbearable to me. Yes, it’s the greatest thing in the world in the moment, when it’s happening. Those days seated at my grandma’s feet, listening to her read me all these incredible stories. Hearing her tell me I would be something one day, that I’d make a difference, that I made her proud and would continue to make her proud ‘til the day she died…”

  My voice catches on my achy, dry throat. I swallow hard against the tightness and continue, “Nobody ever told me that before her. Nobody really has told me that after. It sticks with you; it changes you. But then fast forward ten, fifteen, years, and here she is, about to leave me, and she hasn’t remembered me in years.” I cut myself off, not knowing where I was even trying to go with it.

  “Are you saying you’d rather never feel those immense feelings of love, if it means you don’t have to feel the pain of loss that can come along with it?”

  “Ugh, I don’t know. Something like that. I just wasn’t equipped to deal with emotions on this level. God, or Allah, or Buddha, or whichever divine spirit in the sky created me, they failed to put in those codes.”

  “Well, that’s why you’re here. We’re going to input those codes for you.”

  “Doc, I truly don’t believe that’s possible.”

  “But you’re willing to give it a shot?” she asks, though more like a statement than a question. She already knows t
he answer.

  “Of course. I don’t like being this way. Not one bit. I’m just… I’m clueless of any other way to be.”

  “Is this contest helping or hurting?” she asks, and her abrupt change in subject draws my questioning gaze.

  “Well, that was out of left field.”

  “Or are they one in the same? What about those girls you liked? What’s happened with them?”

  “Why do I feel like you’re in my head and know something I haven’t shared yet?”

  “I’m good at my job, Gavin. Now tell me.”

  “There’s the one, um, I told you about before, that I’m into, a lot. Or, I guess I was into, or… I don’t know. I don’t know about anything anymore when it comes to that. The contest—well, it’s pretty much over.”

  “Which girl? Say her name out loud, Gavin.”

  “Sami.”

  “So, what happened with Sami?”

  “I guess this is the part where I say you were right.”

  “She found out about the contest?”

  I nod.

  “And you didn’t tell her before she found out?”

  Another nod.

  “Oh, Gavin.”

  “I know, I know. Please, save me the judgment. Some of this shit, I guess I just gotta figure out on my own…the hard way.”

  “There’s never any judgment here. You know that. Is it definitely over, or can you talk to her?”

  “I’ve kinda made a fool of myself since she found out. Honestly, with Grandma the way she is, I’m just trying not to think about it. I can’t deal with both things right now.”

  “Do you still care for her? Think about her?”

  “Yes. Constantly. I miss the hell out of her.”

  “Have you told her this?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. And then some. When I was drunk.”

  Dr. Thresher rolls her eyes and gives a shake of her head.

  “Well, I think it’s good that you’re making Grace your priority right now. That’s definitely where your head needs to be, but I think if these feelings persist, you need to face them. And figure out what your next move is. All men screw up. It’s in your DNA.” She winks at me, before her features turn encouraging. “But the good ones, the ones worth keeping around, they know how to speak truthfully, and honestly, and they admit their faults and move on from it—with greater knowledge and understanding. You’re a good man, Gavin. I know it, you know it, and if she’s a good one, she’ll know it too. Maybe don’t write yourself off just yet, huh?”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Aren’t all things that are truly worth it?”

  The subway ride back home is like a lucid dream. I know I’m here. I can feel the seat beneath my ass, see the flash of passing reflective signs through the tunnel, and hear the commotion of passengers around me, but I don’t have full control. The thoughts burden me completely.

  It seems such a simple thing to change one’s mindset. To think of the good instead of the bad, but the mind is a tricky beast. The troubled mind is a different beast entirely.

  It’s hard not to view yourself as diseased, different… a lost cause. So many people seem to be getting along just fine, adapting to the different circumstances life brings.

  But not me.

  And though I know I’m not alone in feeling this way, the mind doesn’t see it like that.

  Depression equals isolation. Isolation equals loneliness. Loneliness leads to a sense of defeat. It’s what brought me to the bridge that day. It’s what makes me still feel hollowed out and used up today. The most frightening thing of all is not knowing how to claw my way out. Even with the forward progress brought on by my meetings with Dr. Thresher, it’s so easy to take two steps back when left alone with my invasive thoughts.

  I walk from the subway platform and down the street toward my loft in a daze, running through my meeting with the doctor.

  It’s not until I’m just steps away from my brownstone that I realize someone’s seated on the front porch. When I see who it is, though, my heart sinks.

  “You haven’t texted me back,” Joanne says, glancing up at me with irritation in her eyes, her windblown hair a mess atop her head.

  “So you come to my house?” I ask, avoiding eye contact as I dig for my keys.

  “This was our house once,” she responds as I walk past her and slide the key in. I slip into the house and turn, watching her as she stands with obvious expectations of coming inside. I block the open doorway with my body.

  “This was our house once,” I say, dryly. “I bought it specifically for us, if you remember correctly. And then you decided to cheat on me. Now it’s my house. And I don’t want any visitors.”

  “What happened to you, Gavin? You used to be nice at least.”

  I chuckle at her absurdity, and in the moment, I’m elated by the feeling of looking over her right now, standing before me at the house we once shared, and not feeling a goddamn thing for her.

  “What’s different—what you’re not accustomed to—is me speaking up for myself. And I’m sorry, but your approval of my current behavior is not of any concern to me.”

  She rears her head back, her upper lip curled in disgust. “Do you know how unbearable you were to live with? I mean, really? Do you know how hard I fought to make you feel better?”

  “How? How did you fight for me? I must be misremembering. Because last I checked, as soon as shit got real, as soon as I let you in on the things that torment me, you hightailed it the fuck on out of here.”

  “It’s not normal to act the way you did. To think the way you did. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

  I scoff, shaking my head as I place a hand on my hip. “Just because you didn’t know how to handle it, doesn’t make it abnormal. And fuck, maybe it is, but you know what else isn’t normal? Growing up with worthless parents, playing doctor with Uncle Joe, never being fucking good enough. The only thing you did was intensify that feeling.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Here we go about the abuse stuff again. A lot of people have been abused, Gavin. I was spanked as a kid too.”

  “Spanked? Spanked?! I would’ve begged for a good old-fashioned ass whooping over the shit that happened to me. You know what’s real sick, Joanne? Is that you know it was more than spanking… so much more. You know my parents were monsters and you can still sit here and try to normalize it all. You’ve never, not once, been able to just listen, to try and understand, to fucking commiserate. You always treated it as some competition. You made me feel like I was just constantly bitching instead of working through the shit I’ve lived through.”

  “You were bitching! That’s all you ever did.”

  “Fuck you, Joanne,” I say calmly, though my blood pressure is rising. I can feel the throb of my carotids as blood pumps through them. “When you love someone—I mean truly love them; not the shit you call love—you’re supposed to be the one to talk to, to bitch to, even. You’re supposed to be that person’s rock. Not chastising them for feeling the way they do. Not making them feel even worse.”

  She doesn’t say a word for a moment, exhaling heavily. She drops her head into her hands and shakes it.

  “Listen, Gavin. This isn’t what I wanted to do with you. This isn’t why I came by.”

  “Then why? Why are you gracing me with your delightful presence?”

  “Because, regardless of the difficulties that came with our relationship, that came with living with someone like you, I did love you. And I still do. I love you, Gavin. You hear me? Even if you’re too blind to see it.”

  “The only thing you love, my dear, is yourself. Now get the fuck away from my house. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  She goes to say something, but she doesn’t have the time to get it out before the door slams in her face.

  I put my back against the door, sliding down onto my ass, and I hear her grumbling on the other side. But I just smile—a broad, spontaneous smile, as I feel a weight being lifted off my
shoulders.

  I see only darkness. I hear only a steady high-pitched ring. It carries on, uninterrupted against the darkness. I try and pry my eyes open, but they won’t budge. I try to move my limbs… nothing. Finally, the nauseating ring is joined by stifled mumbles, footsteps against a tiled floor, an order barked here and there. And then I feel movement, as if I’m being carried away by my limbs, my body sagging in the middle. The voices are louder now, one more authoritative than the others. There’re clicks and bangs, heavy breathing and frantic murmurs.

  Then my eyes open, suddenly, and they’re filled with abrasive lights that blind me. I wipe each eye with my hand, fighting to see. When my vision finally clears, I look down to see Grandma, the doctors and nurses surrounding her gurney as it’s pushed like a luge down the hallway.

  My back clings to the ceiling like I’m harnessed to it and I move right along with them, an unseen presence. The eye in the sky.

  We make it to a pseudo-emergency room as one of the doctors continues CPR. The nurses work with Grandma’s IV.

  And I helplessly watch.

  Reaching out to her, I scream her name, begging her to open her eyes, but nothing comes out. I’m voiceless.

  Just as the main doctor stops CPR and waves the others off, a solemn look in his eyes, my grandma’s eyes open—no iris, no pupil, just the whites of them—and her mouth gapes open as she calls out for me. Light pours from her eye sockets and her open mouth, her hands reaching out for me. And I can’t move a muscle. I can do nothing but watch as the light separates from her, detaching from her eyes and mouth first, then pulling from her skin until her soul is completely removed from her body.

  And then it’s pulled away into oblivion.

  I close my eyes to blink, but when they reopen, everything is black again, except there’s no high-pitched, retched ring of the heart monitor. It’s been replaced by the drone of an alarm clock going off. I rub my eyes until the darkness blurs and then fades into what I immediately recognize as my bedroom. Again, I’m attached to the ceiling like a magnet to a fridge, my limbs heavy and dangling.