by Leigh Kramer
“Of course you want a truce now,” Reagan called, tossing his brush to the side.
I used my free hand to remove the paint from his neck, while Reagan tended to the paint on my other arm. It wasn't the most effective job but neither of us wanted to let go. The romantic, playful vibe continued as we swatted each other with the towels used for drying each other off. Reagan started to chase me around the room in a cleaner continuation of our paint war but this time I was ready to be caught.
I collapsed on the ground laughing and he lowered himself next to me. We lay side by side, smiling. I rolled on my side to look at him.
“Thank you, Reagan.”
“For letting you win? You're welcome.” He looked content laying there on the floor, one arm slung across my waist.
“Letting me?” I sputtered. “I won fair and square.” This man. I stopped before he drew me in further to his antics. “No, thank you for making me paint. This was fun. I think it was good for me. Our little paint war was the icing on the cake.”
“I told you that you wouldn’t regret painting first. And now I’m going to prove this was worth waiting for.”
He smiled lazily before drawing me in for a kiss. A thrill shot through me as the kiss deepened. I wanted to lose myself for a while, from the canvas to Reagan. The wood floor pressed into my side but I didn’t care. Hard wood floor or soft bed, none of it mattered so long as Reagan was with me.
He made me happy. I realized this more each day.
He drew me back to his side and kissed me again. I pressed myself more fully against him, silently urging him to take. His hands moved from the nape of my neck down to my waist until he played with the edge of my shirt, his fingers barely touching the skin there.
“Are you sure about this, Liv?” he asked. I protested as his lips left mine.
“Yes, Reagan. I want you. I’m ready,” I said before yanking his head back down to mine. He groaned with appreciation and my body hummed in anticipation of what was to come. His hands bracketed my ribs under my shirt and the sensation was incredible. We were in no rush and Reagan seemed determined to take his time with me.
I lost myself in his kiss, our mouths exploring one another, and nothing was going to stop me from fully having him this afternoon.
My phone rang from somewhere. Damn it. It registered enough for me to reluctantly break the kiss. I sat up.
“It could be Gram. I have to get it.” Reagan agreed but didn’t let go of me completely. I finally located my phone on the kitchen table, as Reagan trailed behind.
I swatted Reagan's hand away with a laugh as I reached for the phone. Mom's name flashed across the screen. If I didn't answer now, she'd keep calling until I did.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, breathless.
“Olivia,” she said sternly in a tone that brokered no room for argument.
My back straightened in response and I scooted away from Reagan, waving him off and straightening my shirt. I sank onto the couch.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Was something wrong with Gram? Or with me? I couldn't imagine what I'd done this time.
“Oh, honey. I'm so sorry to tell you this.” Her voice wavered and my heart sank. Gram.
“Olivia, Aunt Elaine died. She had a heart attack. I'm so sorry.”
Elaine? Impossible.
“But...what?” I stood up, antsy. I paced the floor as the news sunk in.
My mind raced. It didn't make sense. Pictures of Elaine arose—laughing, dancing, traveling. Living. This couldn't possibly be true. Mom had to be lying. This couldn’t be true.
“I don't know why you're saying this,” I said with grim resolve.
“I know you don't want to hear it or believe it. I don't want to believe it, but it's true. Elaine is dead.”
I didn't want to hear the compassion in her voice. The room grew hot. This couldn’t be happening. Not Elaine. Not my beautiful, smart, loving aunt.
“You're lying!” I shouted into the phone. “Why would you make up something this sick and twisted?”
Mom began to cry. “I'm so sorry, Olivia. I'm not lying. I wouldn't do that.”
“I don’t understand,” I pleaded with her. “She was fine. She’s not sick. She’s never sick!”
Gram was the one who was sick. All these months we’d prepared to say goodbye to her, not anyone else. Hadn’t our family suffered enough?
Hadn’t I suffered enough? I couldn’t say goodbye to Elaine.
Oh God. I would have to say goodbye.
The truth clicked into place. A scream emerged. This was not happening. I sank to the floor, spasms of horror rolling over me. My phone fell to the side. I began sobbing, fat tears rolling down.
Elaine is dead. Elaine is dead. Elaine is dead.
The words pounded me and I wailed and I didn't know how to make it stop.
Reagan sat next to me and folded his arms around me, rocking me slightly. He held me but I was immune to the comfort of his embrace. I looked at the phone next to me, unsure how I'd landed on the floor. It didn't matter. I tried to speak but I was incoherent.
Reagan murmured reassurance to me, then picked up the phone and spoke with Mom. “I've got her, Carolyn. What happened?”
Her tinny voice replied to him through the receiver and I closed my eyes against the sorrow lapping over me anew. I couldn't catch my breath through the sobs wracking my body.
This couldn't be happening. My mind would not wrap around a world without Elaine in it. I'd just seen her the other day. We'd laughed about something inconsequential as we stole away for a coffee break. That was supposed to be the last time I saw her?
First Dad left us too soon and now Elaine. Elaine was going to be my silver lining after Gram died, the one person keeping me in the family fold.
Oh, dear God. Gram.
I grabbed the phone from Reagan and tried to respond to Mom, my voice a garbled mess.
“Slow down and take a breath, Olivia. I can't understand you.”
“Does Gram know yet?” Panic tinged my voice. I had to get to her.
This new purpose calmed me, as my breathing eased and the tears lessened. I had to be strong for Gram.
“I don't know if she knows yet. Stewart is on his way over from the hospital. I think everyone plans on meeting there, as they're able.”
Uncle Stewart. Thoughts of my steady uncle bereft of his wife, their grown children now motherless struck me. Somehow he had the strength to leave Elaine's lifeless body and tell her mother the light of their lives was gone. All this while the news spread through the Frasier grapevine.
I sat up straighter, easing away from Reagan. “She needs me. I have to get to her.”
“I don't want you anywhere near a car, Olivia. You're too upset to drive out here,” Mom instructed.
My chest heaved in agreement as my body continued to absorb the aftermath of my tears. “I'm fine, Mom,” I lied. “I'll be right over.”
Reagan plucked the phone out of my hand. “Don't worry, Carolyn. I'll drive her over. We'll see you soon.”
He hung up the phone and put a finger to my protesting lips.
“Let me do this for you. I’m so sorry, Liv. She was a wonderful woman.”
I nodded in agreement. Hearing the past tense brought the tears back, though I stayed in better control. I sniffled, sure that I needed a tissue but not caring enough to find one.
Reagan snagged one of the errant towels from earlier and handed it to me. I blew my nose hard and mopped up my face. I must have looked awful.
Reagan cupped my chin and looked deep into my eyes. “You're going to get through this. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it.”
He helped me stand up and then hugged me for a few moments. I needed to get to Gram but I couldn't leave. Arriving at her house meant facing Elaine's death. Reagan's house was a welcome cocoon from the evidence of loved ones' tear-stained faces. Everyone adored Elaine.
I tightened my arms around Reagan, trying to slow down my breathing and regain control. The warmth
of his body seeped through my now clammy hands as we stood in a window's sunspot.
“I'm not ready,” I croaked. I couldn't explain any further.
Reagan's hands smoothed over my back and curled through my hair, my body relaxing with each pass. “I know, Liv. But you'll never be ready,” he soothed. “This is the in-between. I know you don't want to face this, just like I know you want to be there for your grandmother. There's no rush. We'll leave whenever you decide.”
The mournful lilt of Ray LaMontagne continued to croon from the art studio. Reagan and I began to sway back and forth, a dance of before and after. I breathed Reagan in, that heady mix of turpentine and cedar. His shirt dampened from my tears as I focused on my breaths. My body moved to and fro, a soothing metronome.
I couldn't control anything. I'd never thought to worry about anyone else since Gram declared her news. I didn't know how much more I could take.
Though I remained unsure about Reagan's long-term intentions, I couldn't imagine being with anyone else. He knew the pain of unexpected loss. He'd fought the haze of reality and lost but he'd also found a way to move on.
We swayed around the dining room, slow circles, until I found my voice.
“I'm as ready as I'll ever be.” I tried to smile but the corners refused to turn upward.
Reagan kissed my temple and ushered me out the door. After awaited.
Chapter Fifteen
Gram's house was never quiet for long and the silence was eerie. Family members gathered in clumps, wordless for the moment. We cried in rounds, the next person cycling through heartbreak as soon as another dried their tears.
There were no words and there was nothing we could do.
I sat in the great room with a few cousins. Mom and Aunt Tammy stayed with Gram in her room. I'd taken one look at Gram upon arriving and called hospice. Her gray coloring and shortness of breath concerned me. Her pain medications weren't what they should be but she refused to take anything more.
I'd hugged Gram for a few moments, surprised by her body's frailness. Even though I saw her every few days, her carefully draped clothes prevented any of us from seeing her dwindle away.
For now, I sat and waited for Justin to arrive. I didn't know what he could do but Gram's physical comfort was the only thing I could control at this point. If a medication to dull our grief existed, the whole family would storm doctors for a prescription.
Thinking of Gram's health led to thoughts of Elaine's health. A heart attack at fifty. She'd always been the picture of health. Active, adventurous, a hard worker. All the while, a ticking time bomb laid in her chest. How had she missed it? How had we missed it?
Bethie, Elaine's youngest, sat to my right while our cousin Dave sat across from us. We three were the same age and had banded together as little kids. At least until I became too eccentric for their tastes. Grief leveled the playing field. I forgot how they'd given me shit and they forgot my vindictive replies.
Reagan stood off to the side, occasionally trading a few words with Bethie's husband. He possessed the innate ability to know when I needed him near. He didn't push himself on me either. He'd learned the lessons of grief. Sometimes only family will do and sometimes they're the last people you want surrounding you. For now, my cousins needed me and I needed them.
My uncles' voices in the kitchen carried. They spoke of calling the church and picking a day and meeting with the funeral home. How could they be talking about Elaine instead of Gram? Understanding eluded me.
“Do you want to be in there for the discussion?” I asked Bethie, tipping my head in the kitchen's direction.
She shook her head no and curled next to me on the couch. “I can't do it. I don't even know what she'd want.”
I grasped her hand in reassurance, remembering how we'd skipped around as children. Bethie and Olivia, forever friends. Mom and Elaine had been so proud of us. I didn't know where it all went wrong.
Dave piped up. “I never would have thought to ask her that. I haven’t even asked my parents about their wishes. Maybe she and your dad talked about it?” His voice trailed off, uncertain if it was the right response.
We thought there would be more time for the serious discussions. For making amends and declarations of love. Death caught us off guard once again. Even now, the finality wouldn't sink in until after each birthday and holiday and every moment they were no longer there to share with us.
We tiptoed now, our hearts bruised and tenuous, no one wanting to set off a fresh wave of sadness by a careless word. The delicate response from my family surprised me but maybe it shouldn’t have. I couldn't remember if my father's death garnered a similar response.
Bethie began to answer Dave when the doorbell rang. I patted the hand I held, then excused myself.
“That’s probably Justin, the hospice nurse.”
I hurried through the house to greet him at the door. A rush of relief flooded through me as he stepped inside. He was here. He could help Gram.
His arms wrapped around me in a quick hug before I could formulate a greeting. Though we talked weekly on the phone after his nursing visits, I'd seen Justin less than a handful of times since meeting him. A hug was unexpected, but not unwelcome.
“I'm sorry to hear about your aunt, Olivia,” he said. He looked deep into my eyes as if to gauge my grief.
“Oh.” His compassion flustered me. I couldn't acknowledge his condolences. “I'm sorry I called you at the end of your day. I'm sure this is the last place you want to be. Gram didn't look so great when I got here and I started worrying about her pain meds and her blood pressure and I didn't know what else to do.”
He brushed off my justifications. “This is what I'm here for. Telling us was the right thing to do. Cassie will check in with you at some point this week, too. How are you holding up?”
“I'm fine. I mean, I’m not fine. As good as can be expected? I'll feel better when I know we're not losing Gram today, too. I’ve never seen her like this.” I backed further into the house, ready to lead him to Gram's bedroom.
Reagan came into the hall at that moment. I introduced the two men, hoping this wouldn't interrupt our forward trajectory. I tried not to pace as they made easy small talk. Reagan put his arm around me, trying to keep me still.
“Justin? If we could just get to Gram,” I entreated.
“Sure, sorry,” he apologized with a grin. “Nice meeting you. Reagan, right?”
Reagan nodded and replied the same. I unearthed myself from his arm.
“I'll come find you when I'm done,” I promised. Gram wouldn't want extra company today. She still took some pride in her appearance. Although who knew if that mattered on the day your daughter died.
Every thought kept me crashing back to reality. I couldn't dwell on Elaine. Gram required my attention and focus and that's what she would get.
Aunt Tammy and Mom stepped back as Justin entered the room. “Mom, we'll give you some privacy,” Mom reassured Gram. “Olivia, let me know when you're done here. I'm going to fix a little soup for her. She needs to eat.”
I nodded my understanding, patting her arm as she left the room. Gram's appetite had been in a holding pattern lately. Slowing down some but she ate a little something at each meal. She couldn’t afford to lose any ground.
Gram and Justin quietly talked. She brushed away a tear as he expressed his condolences. I leaned against the wall, not sure if I should wait in the hall or draw nearer to the bed.
“You didn't need to come here today, young man. I'm sure this interrupted your day. I'll be fine. Everyone's fretting over me like usual.” Gram was not one to roll her eyes but her annoyance came through clearly.
“Ella May, you know I don't mind coming out here. Olivia was right to call me. I’m concerned about you. Let me just take your vitals and then we can talk.”
Justin made soothing sounds after checking her heart rate and blood pressure. I honed in on his expressions, careful to watch for any worried looks or a furrowed brow. He did a q
uick physical exam and made a few notations on the clipboard that traveled everywhere with him.
“Everything looks like it's in normal range,” he pronounced, rattling off a few numbers. “Now let's talk about your pain. Can you rate it on the scale for me?”
“Oh, it's probably a six or seven right now,” Gram said, as if this high number was of no concern.
“Gram!” I exclaimed. A six or seven out of ten? And she hadn't said a word.
Gram waved off my concern. “No need to worry, Olivia. I have a high pain tolerance and lying down helps; there's not as much pressure down there.”
I averted my eyes, as if she'd bared all at the Moulin Rouge. Oh, for the day I got used to these discussions.
“That does seem a bit high,” Justin interjected. “How was your pain over the weekend?”
“A three or four, like usual.”
“When did it change? That's quite a jump,” Justin stared Gram down, as if to say he expected an honest answer.
Gram's eyes filled with tears. “After Stewart told me about Elaine. My baby girl,” she whispered. I perched on the bed and took her hand. My tears mingled with hers. We both knew pain medication wouldn't fix what ailed her.
Justin asked a few more questions about the nature of her pain. How it felt. The duration. The location of pain in her body. Once satisfied the current regimen was managing her pain well, he insisted she take a breakthrough dose.
“Just to get you over this hump, Ella May. If we don't stay on top of your pain, even if it's related to circumstances, it'll be harder to keep it under control. These next few days and weeks are going to take more out of you so it's even more important that you take care of yourself.”
Justin retrieved the Oxycodone and gave Gram the pills, along with a glass of water. She took the medicine like a good patient, too exhausted to fight him on this. She may have wanted to stay aware of all that occurred in her home, but it couldn't come at her own expense.
“I want you to eat what you can and be sure to rest.” He consulted his clipboard. “I'd like to stop by and see you tomorrow, just to check in. If your pain isn't under better control, then we'll talk about increasing your dosage or switching to another drug.”
