The Right-Under Club

by Christine Hurley Deriso

  As the CD started, he and her grandma sang along. It was an old song, one Elizabeth had heard them sing countless times together: “I'll be loving you always, with a love that's true always.”

  Her grandpa sang the melody, her grandma the harmony. Her grandma's voice had a bit of vibrato; her grandpa's was firm and steady. They sounded beautiful together. One song after another they sang together. Her grandmother's memory of the lyrics was flawless.

  How does she remember words to zillion-year-old songs but forget my name? Elizabeth thought wistfully, but she didn't dwell on the notion. Her time with her grandmother was too limited to spend it questioning things she would probably never understand. Right now, it was time to enjoy the music.

  … … …

  “There's Grandpa.”

  It was the picture Elizabeth had taken of him earlier in the day by the barn. She used a glue stick to paste his picture on a piece of lime green construction paper. She traced the outline in glue and sprinkled silver glitter on the border.

  “FRANK,” she wrote in neat letters with a fine-point marker by his picture. “Birthday: October 23. Job: Farmer. Favorite foods: Meat loaf and broccoli.”

  Elizabeth's grandma peered closer at her handiwork. “This is how people make scrapbooks nowadays?” she asked.

  Elizabeth nodded. “Yep.”

  “Very literal,” her grandmother observed.

  Elizabeth filled one page after another: pictures of her, her mother, their relatives and friends, all with neatly printed details. Then came the pictures of her grandma's possessions.

  “Remote control,” Elizabeth wrote. “Stays on coffee table in front of couch. Turns TV off and on.”

  “Very literal,” her grandmother murmured again.

  It was moments like those that made Elizabeth turn and stare hard into her grandmother's eyes. Sometimes she seemed so normal. Was Elizabeth overreacting? Maybe her grandfather was right…. Her grandma was perfectly fine, just having a few fleeting memory problems because her medicines were interacting in some weird way.

  But no. As the week wore on, Elizabeth knew better, and so did her grandfather, deep down. She could tell by the way he averted his eyes every time her grandmother got confused. And whenever her grandma did show traces of her old personality— her wit, her cleverness, her intelligence—a sheer veil seemed to descend over her eyes in the very next breath, when she was once again calling Elizabeth by the wrong name, or asking what in the world Elizabeth was doing there in the first place, or asking whether they should have meat loaf for dinner an hour after the table had been cleared.

  For the first couple of days, Elizabeth's brow would knit anxiously at these moments. Sometimes her grandma noticed and seemed scared or angry, demanding to know what was wrong. So Elizabeth stopped reacting, for both her grandma's sake and her own. Her grandma's illness was what it was. Elizabeth was getting better at rolling with the punches. Her parents had given her plenty of practice the past year.

  She and her grandma settled into a pattern. Every morning after her grandpa went into the fields, she and her grandmother would amble around the farm, taking more pictures: a rake, a caterpillar, a rainbow…. Then they would go inside, Elizabeth would print out the pictures and she and her grandma would add them to their scrapbook.

  “Who's that?” her grandmother asked her one afternoon as Elizabeth pasted in a picture of her grandma as a young girl, beaming in a cream-colored dress with a wide sash that hung loosely around her hips, and an impossibly big matching bow in her hair.

  “That's you,” Elizabeth responded, affixing gold stars at each corner of the picture.

  “Me?” her grandma said, laughing lightly.

  “You look like you were around my age in this picture,” Elizabeth said. “What were you like when you were a kid?”

  “Let's see…,” her grandma said. Her eyes squinted in concentration, then fell back on the picture. “Who's that?” she asked again, pointing to the same picture.

  “That's you,” Elizabeth responded patiently. “Tell me what you were like when you were my age.”

  “Your age …” More squinting. Elizabeth could almost see her struggling to open different windows in her brain. This time, the window was nudged open. “I liked to skate!” her grandma said brightly. “I was good, too. We would ice-skate on the frozen pond in the winters. Once, the ice broke and my brother had to fish me out. Oooh, it was so cold! My mother told me I could never ice-skate again, but I sneaked off to do it anyway. I loved it too much to stop. If I fell in again, well, so be it.”

  Elizabeth laughed. This memory seemed fresher in her grandma's mind than her recollection of the meal they'd finished fifteen minutes earlier.

  “Were you good in school?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Not in math,” her grandmother responded with no hesitation. “I never understood math, and I had a horrible math teacher—Miss Holloway—who delighted in humiliating me and making me feel like an idiot. But I was good in other subjects. My penmanship was flawless. And I won a spelling bee. ‘Accentuate': a-c-c-e-n-t-u-a-t-e. ‘Accentuate.’”

  Elizabeth clapped her hands lightly. “I won a spelling bee, too. ‘Colloquial': c-o-l-l-o-q-u-i-a-l: ‘Colloquial.’”

  Her grandma's eyes danced, and she clapped for Elizabeth. “You're a fine speller, Margaret,” she said.

  Elizabeth's eyes softened as she looked dreamily into her grandmother's eyes. “Thanks, Grandma.”

  … … …

  “I've got a surprise for you, honey.”

  Elizabeth's grandpa's eyes twinkled as he gently shook her awake the next morning.

  She stretched her arms and sniffed fresh linen. Whatever else her grandma couldn't remember, she never forgot to wash and line-dry Elizabeth's sheets regularly. “What's up, Grandpa?”

  “Grandma has a doctor's appointment today,” he said. “Your mom wants to come with us, so she'll be here in a little while.”

  Elizabeth sat up. “You told Mom?”

  He shrugged. “She knows your grandma's been forgetful lately. We had a nice long talk on the phone last night.” He forced a smile. “I think we're all on the same page now, honey.”

  Elizabeth swallowed hard. She was glad her mom knew, but it made her grandma's condition more real. She understood her grandpa's urge to push the problem away as long as he could, but there was no pushing it away anymore. Tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Honey, honey,” her grandpa cooed, sweeping her into a hug. “It's just a doctor's appointment, that's all. No big deal. Which leads me to the surprise.”

  Elizabeth's eyebrows arched.

  “I figured you wouldn't want to spend half the day sitting in a waiting room with us old folks,” he said. “So your uncle Jack and aunt Jacie are driving over today with your friends.”

  The corners of her mouth crept into a smile.

  “Jacie says you've cooked up some kind of club,” her grandpa continued. “Looks like the clubhouse is moving to the farm today.”

  “They're all coming?” Elizabeth asked brightly. “Hope and Tricia? And Mei? Even Leighton?”

  Her grandpa nodded. “Jacie said she rounded up the whole bunch. They'll be here in an hour or so. You can swim in the crick, feed the chickens, jump in the hay… you can even teach your friends how to milk a cow!”

  Elizabeth laughed, then turned somber.

  “I think I should go with you to the doctor,” she said.

  “Oh, do you, now?” her grandpa asked playfully. “You think ol’ Grandpa's gonna take a wrong turn and end up taking Grandma to Las Vegas? Hey, that's not a bad idea….”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I may not be much help, but I could … I don't know … hold Grandma's hand or something if she's nervous.”

  Her grandpa leaned closer to Elizabeth's face. “You leave the hand-holding to me,” he said softly. “In fact, you leave everything to me. Your job today is to have fun with your friends.”

  Elizabeth nodded. That she could manage.

&nb
sp; … … …

  “Eeeewww!”

  Leighton shooed away the chicken that abruptly flapped its wings in her face as she squatted to get a better look.

  “Get him away from me!” she shrieked.

  “He's a she,” Elizabeth said calmly, luring the chicken away with a trail of feed.

  “What was I thinking, coming to Old MacDonald's Farm?” Leighton said, but her tone was light. After spending the morning soaring in tire swings, eating tomatoes straight off the vine, climbing trees and riding bikes on dusty dirt trails, even she had to admit that farm life wasn't half bad. Until they visited the chicken coop, that is.

  “How can you stand this smell?” Leighton asked, wrinkling her nose and wiping dirty hands on the back of her cutoffs.

  “You mean the smell of fresh air?” Hope's dad teased.

  “I'm with Leighton,” Jacie said, waving a hand in front of her nose.

  “It smells better inside the house,” Elizabeth acknowledged, reveling in her role as hostess and farm expert. Her cheeks hadn't stopped glowing since her uncle Jack's car had pulled in the driveway three hours earlier. It was awesome seeing her friends tumble out of the car, their ponytails swishing as they ran to embrace Elizabeth.

  “There's a pot of chili on the stove,” she said as she scattered the rest of the chicken feed. “Anybody ready for lunch?”

  The girls’ arms shot into the air. They had definitely worked up an appetite.

  “Just one more chore first,” Elizabeth said, leading her visitors to the barn. She grabbed a bucket and stool, patted the back of a cow and positioned the stool underneath.

  “Tell me you are not touching those things,” Leighton said, pointing to the cow's teats and cringing.

  “Okay,” Elizabeth said agreeably. “You do it.”

  Leighton's jaw dropped. “Not in this lifetime.”

  “I'll do it!” Tricia volunteered. “But you'll have to show me how. And you'll have to promise that Bessie won't get mad and kick me. Or bite me. Or whatever.”

  “Her name's Zelda,” Elizabeth corrected her. “Grandpa named her after some famous writer's crazy wife because Zelda is a little… unpredictable sometimes.”

  Tricia presented the palms of her hands and backed away. “Changed my mind.”

  “Oh, she's really sweet,” Elizabeth insisted. “And you can't visit a farm without milking a cow. Everybody can take a turn.”

  “Everybody but me,” Jacie said nervously.

  “And me.” Leighton surveyed her nails. “I don't want to mess up my manicure.”

  “Chickens!” Elizabeth goaded. “Bwack! B-b-b-bwack!” The girls laughed as she jutted her chest out and flapped her arms.

  “Well…,” Mei said nervously, “you start and show us how to do it.”

  Elizabeth positioned the bucket and grabbed two teats, pumping them rhythmically one by one. Soon, milk began flowing into the bucket.

  “Cool,” Tricia said, leaning closer for a better look.

  “Here,” Elizabeth said. “Your turn.”

  Tricia hesitated for a second, then grabbed the teats as Elizabeth eased off the stool. Zelda looked bored.

  “Wow,” Tricia said as the milk flowed. “I'm really doing it!”

  “My turn!” Hope said, replacing Tricia on the stool. She grimaced as she took the teats, but soon relaxed. She started an impromptu rap to the rhythm of her hands:

  “Now, Zelda's givin’ milk and it's just as smooth as silk.

  She doesn't even mind, 'cause I'm doin’ really fine.

  This farmin’ is alarmin’ but it's charmin’ in a way.

  I'm milkin’ it for all it's worth—a farmin’ girl today.”

  Midway through the rap, the girls were clapping, swaying their hips and twirling happily on the hay-covered floor. Hope invented a second verse to keep the mood alive:

  “Don't worry if you spill it, 'cause the cow will just refill it.

  Yeah, Zelda aims to please, so I'm giving her a squeeze.

  This farm work's kinda icky but I'm really not that picky.

  The cow can take a bow. I got the hang of this, and how!”

  The girls applauded appreciatively.

  “Hope!” Jacie said. “How did you do that off the top of your head? Oh, my gosh… you're amazing!”

  Hope locked eyes with her stepmother and smiled.

  “Mei's turn,” Elizabeth said, nudging a reluctant Mei toward Zelda.

  “Do I have to?” Mei asked in a squeaky voice.

  “Only if you want to eat lunch. You can do it.”

  Elizabeth guided Mei's hands as she replaced Hope at the stool.

  “Easy, Bessie,” Mei said nervously. “I mean Zelda.” She giggled as she gently pumped the teats.

  “Uncle Jack, you want a turn?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I'll pass,” he said with a broad grin. “Looks like you girls have this situation firmly under control.”

  “Aunt Jacie?”

  “Pass,” she said quickly.

  “That leaves you, Leighton,” Elizabeth said. “Don't worry about your manicure. Zelda won't bite your nails off, I promise.” She figured she'd have to shove Leighton over to the cow, but to her surprise, Leighton approached Zelda willingly.

  “Might as well,” she said coolly.

  She traded places with Mei and squeezed her eyes shut as she pumped.

  “Eeeewww!” she said. “How do you turn her off?”

  The girls laughed, at which point Leighton suddenly turned a teat upward and sprayed them with milk.

  Leighton smiled with satisfaction as the girls shrieked and wiped milk off their faces.

  “Told ya I'd get you back for dunking me into the pool!”

  … … …

  “What did the doctor say?”

  Her friends’ visit to the farm had been perfect, but now that they'd gone home, Elizabeth turned her attention back to her grandmother.

  Her mom smoothed Elizabeth's hair as they sat together on the front porch swing. Crickets chirped as dusk settled. “Ummm…,” she said slowly, “it's probably Alzheimer's, honey.”

  Elizabeth's eyes fell. Her mom put a cool palm on her cheek. “It's okay,” she insisted. “We'll take good care of her.”

  “She won't get any better?” Elizabeth asked in barely a whisper.

  Her mom shook her head. “Medicines can slow things down a little, but no… she won't get better.”

  Tears trickled down Elizabeth's cheeks.

  “Honey, I'm so sorry you had to find out this way,” her mother said. “I didn't know either, or I would have prepared you. I should have known.”

  “Grandpa didn't want anybody to know,” Elizabeth said. “He didn't even want to know himself. I think he thought if he didn't say it out loud, it wouldn't be true.”

  “Still,” her mother said, “I would have noticed, if I hadn't been so selfish the last few months.”

  “You haven't been selfish,” Elizabeth said protectively.

  Her mom looked deeply into her eyes. “Nobody knows better than you how selfish I've been,” she said. “And I'm sorry, sweetie. It's just…I love you so much, and I'm so scared of losing you.”

  Now her mother's eyes were brimming with tears.

  Elizabeth grasped her hand and squeezed it. “You won't lose me,” she said.

  Of course, she'd said the same thing to her dad. Her stomach roiled like boiling water.

  “You know what?” her mother said, forcing a smile. “I'm the one who should be reassuring you. How does that sound for a change?”

  Elizabeth couldn't deny that it sounded really good.

  Leighton's Right-Under Journal

  Wednesday, June 29

  Here's a first: writing in a journal without having to. Oh, well. I never thought I'd spend a day on a farm, either. I guess this is a day for firsts. I didn't want to go. Mom made me. But go figeur. It was kind of a blast, not counting a few oders I'd rather forget. (P-U!!!!) Awsem news: I finally got the girls back for dun
king me in the pool! I sprayed milk in their faces when I was milking the cow. LOL! Wheres a video camera when you need one? We laughed so hard, we cried. Usually I think they hate me, but every once in a wile, I feel like I acktially fit in. That's how I felt 2day, even tho I know they make fun of me behind my back. Jellus. Oh, well. Today was really fun. Hope has been tutering me at the pool, so I hope I pass math next year. But it's hard. Nothing's really sticking. Hope thinks she's so brillient. Why can't she teach math? I wonder if I can use this journal for extra credit when school starts. Now, that's brillient! G2G. Scott's probably trying to IM me. Scottie's a Hottie! I LUV SCOTT. SCOTT + LEIGHTON 4 EVER. By 4 now.

  … … …

  HoPeLess has just signed on.

  HoPeLess: Mei? R U there?

  artsyMEI: Hi, Hope. Can U believe Leighton sprayed us with milk 2day? I still have milk in my nostrils! You gotta admit, she got us good.

  HoPeLess: Now, let's not get carried away.

  artsyMEI: Come on, Hope, cut Leighton some slack. She was actually fun 2day!

  HoPeLess: So now she's your BFF?

  artsyMEI: I didn't say that. I just said she wasn't totally annoying 4 a change. Hey … Elizabeth seems like she's having a good time on her grandparents’ farm. All that worrying 4 nothing!

  HoPeLess: I'm not so sure. I think something's wrong with her grandma.

  Her mom called Jacie last night and they talked 4ever.

  artsyMEI: If her grandma was sick, wouldn't Elizabeth have told us?

  HoPeLess: I'm not sure what's going on. I called her a little while ago and she said everything was fine. But Elizabeth says everything is fine when everything is NOT fine.

  artsyMEI: Maybe she wants to tell us all together. Just remind her: We R There for Her. BTW: Can U come to the pool 2morrow? Tricia said she can make it, but she'll have to bring her little sister.

  HoPeLess: OK. But if Leighton shows up, I might have an emergency stomachache.

  artsyMEI: I can't stay long. I started a new art project. Stan asked me to paint the baby's room.

  HoPeLess: O NO! Rainbows and butterflies?!?

  artsyMEI: LOL. Stan told me to paint whatever I like. He said he trusts my instincts! I want to paint 3 walls green, then paint a tropical rain forest mural on the 4th wall.