by Lauren Rowe
“I wish I’d said yes to ten percent, like you first offered. I think that was fair.”
“Stop, please. We’re going to make bank on the duet. And my album is releasing next week. Honestly, I don’t want to talk about the money again. We’ve pressed the ‘reset button,’ remember? The money is part of that.”
Laila sighs. “You promise you’re not secretly mad about the money?”
I kiss her cheek. “Baby, I’m not even capable of being mad at you.”
As I’m saying that last sentence, there’s a knock at the door.
“Adrian?” Sasha’s wobbly voice says. My cousin sniffles behind the door, making my breathing halt, before adding, “Honey, Mimi is ready to see you now.”
Twenty-Seven
Savage
As I enter Mimi’s bedroom, I nod at the caregiver, Felicia, in the corner, lay my laptop on a table, and slide into a chair next to the bed. “Hey, Mimi,” I whisper, taking her hand. She looks impossibly frail under her covers. Exhausted like I’ve never seen her before. “I’m here, Mimi. I’m right here.”
My grandmother opens her eyes and purses her lips, asking for a kiss, and I lean forward and give her one, before settling back into my chair and cupping her slender hand in both of mine.
“Would you like me to carry you around the house, so you can tell me stories from when you and Jasper were young?” I whisper.
Mimi shakes her head, turning me down. And I realize talking has become difficult for my sweet grandmother.
Swallowing hard, I gently squeeze Mimi’s frail hand. “Would you like me to sing to you?”
This time, Mimi nods. So, I launch into singing the lullaby that’s become part of our ritual, and when I reach the end of that simple song, and Mimi is still awake and attentive, I sing another. This time, one of my all-time favorites by one of my favorite singer-songwriters: “Grace” by Jeff Buckley. Buckley was a genius, if you ask me, who died way too young, well before he’d graced the world with the full extent of his gifts. And the song of his I’ve chosen is about accepting mortality in the face of true love—a song about letting go gracefully. Frankly, I can’t imagine a better song for this moment.
Grace.
It’s the word, more than any other, that describes what Mimi has always shown to me. The gift of unconditional love and acceptance.
When I finish singing, Mimi whispers, in a barely audible voice. “I’m ready, Ady.”
Tears flood my eyes. Sasha warned me last night that’s what Mimi’s been thinking, but I didn’t expect Mimi to say it to me so bluntly. So starkly, without warning or lead-in.
The words “Not yet, Mimi!” form on my lips. But I bite them back and swallow them down. Of course, I want my grandmother to stay here with me. I can’t imagine a world where she isn’t here to chastise me with a gentle “Adrian” when I’m being a shithead. To smile at me when I’m being goofy. And most of all, to love me, no matter what stupid thing I do or say. But I know all of those desires are selfish—that now it’s my turn to show Mimi grace.
Still cupping Mimi’s slight hand in mine, I rest my elbows onto the mattress and say, “If you’re ready to go, then go. Cross the bridge to Jasper and Frank. Have a picnic with them. Give them lots of hugs and kisses. I’ll miss you so much—more than I could ever say in words. But I promise I’ll be okay, and that I’ll spend the rest of my life doing my best to be the man you’ve tried to teach me to be.” I wipe a tear from her cheek. “Oh, how you’ve tried to teach me. I was quite a project, huh?”
Mimi smiles weakly.
“You did good, Maria Savage,” I whisper, caressing her white hair. “I’m going to be okay, thanks to you. You taught me how to love with all my heart and soul. You taught me, Mimi. And I listened and learned. I know it didn’t seem like it sometimes, but I promise I did. I understand everything now, Mimi, so you can go now, without worrying about me.”
Mimi smiles, letting me know my words have touched her, and then she looks at her caregiver in the corner.
“Now?” the woman says. And when Mimi nods, her nurse walks to the dresser, pulls out a tiny box from the top drawer, and brings it to me, its lid opened. There’s a simple ring inside—a band with the tiniest of diamonds at its center.
“Your grandfather slipped this ring onto your grandmother’s finger the day they got married,” the nurse says. “Mimi wants you to take the diamond out of this ring and use it somewhere in the setting of Laila’s engagement or wedding ring.”
“Oh, Mimi,” I say, feeling overcome with guilt. I felt justified in lying to Mimi about my fake engagement with Laila yesterday, given the situation, but accepting Mimi’s treasured wedding ring from Jasper today, to give to my fake fiancée, feels wrong. “I shouldn’t accept this,” I say reflexively, but add quickly, “Sasha should have it, in case she gets married one day.”
Mimi looks exasperated with me—which, I must admit, makes me grin. How many times have I seen this same look of exasperation on Maria Savage’s face over the years, when talking to me? Too many to count. And every time, it makes me smile.
The nurse says, “Mimi’s already talked to Sasha about this ring, and told her she wanted you to have it for your future wife one day. This was weeks ago, before she knew about you and Laila. And Sasha said that sounded like a lovely idea. Mimi’s given Sasha all her other jewelry, and Sasha is thrilled with that.”
I exhale, feeling a bit better about the situation. If Mimi wanted me to have this ring before I’d lied to her about Laila, and Sasha’s not bummed to miss out, then I suppose I can take the ring, as Mimi wishes. “Thank you, Mimi,” I say, slipping the box into the pocket of my hoodie. “This means a lot.”
She nods weakly.
Once again, I stroke her white hair. “Do you want to see me as a judge on Sing Your Heart Out? I’ve got the first episode cued up on my laptop over there.”
Mimi nods and smiles.
I ask softly, “Should I call Sasha and Laila to come in here and watch with us?”
Mimi shakes her head and whispers, “Just you and me, Ady.”
My heart squeezes. “Okay. That sounds good, Mimi. Just you and me.”
Trembling, I grab my laptop and connect it to the large television on the far wall. And when I’ve got the show cued up, I crawl into Mimi’s bed alongside her, reposition her frail body until she’s lying comfortably in my arms, and press play.
The familiar theme song of Sing Your Heart Out begins and Mimi makes the tiniest cooing sound in my arms. It’s a far cry from the whooping and laughter and shrieks I expected to hear from my grandmother when I’ve imagined this moment. I never envisioned Mimi watching me on the show while lying in my arms, unable to speak without significant effort. But even so, that little cooing sound was enough. It tells me she’s conscious, able to understand what she’s seeing, and thrilled about it.
At the end of the day, all I wanted was for Maria Savage to get to see that the little twelve-year-old asshole she took into her home—and into her heart—has grown up and made her proud. I wanted her to see that, thanks to her, and her ability to dream so fucking big for me, that little asshole is now sitting at the judges’ table on her all-time favorite show. I wanted her to see she did this. She took an angry and distrustful pile of shit and turned him into something golden. Someone people actually care about. All because Mimi cared first and so fucking well.
About fifteen minutes into the show, I glance down to find Mimi’s eyes closed. I look in panic at the monitor next to the bed and exhale with relief when the neon line marking her heartbeat is still bouncing up and down, albeit slowly.
“Is this it, Felicia?” I ask the caregiver. “Will she wake up?”
“I think she will,” Felicia says. “But she’s close now, Adrian. Very close.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat and kiss the top of Mimi’s head. I whisper, “You can go now, Mimi. Have a picnic with Jasper and Frank. I’ll be right here the whole time, holding you, so you won’t be alone a
s you cross the bridge.” A sob catches in my throat, but I take a deep, halting breath that somehow chases it away. I clear my throat. “Felicia, will you do me a favor and let Sasha and Laila know I’ve had my alone-time with Mimi, and they’re welcome to come in now? In and out, if they want. Any time. But tell them I’m going to stay right here with my grandma, without letting go of her, for as long as it takes.”
Twenty-Eight
Savage
Los Angeles, California
Two weeks later
I stop my car in front of Reed Rivers’ iron gate, roll down my window, and press the intercom button.
“Adrian!” a female voice says.
“Hey, Abu!” I say, recognizing Amalia’s sweet voice. I smile into the camera on the box. “What’s shaking, woman?”
Amalia giggles. “Reed isn’t here, Adrian. He and Georgina are out to dinner. Was he expecting you?”
“Nope. I came to steal you away from Reed, as a matter of fact. So pack a bag and let’s gooo!”
Amalia laughs. “I’ve told you I’ll never leave Reed. But I can offer you some tea and conversation.”
“I’d rather steal you away, but I guess some tea and conversation would be a nice consolation prize.”
The gate buzzes and slowly begins opening, and I drive through and park near the front door—and by the time I get out of my car, Amalia is already standing there waiting for me.
I hug Amalia in greeting and squeeze her tight, and as I do, every bit of pain I’ve been holding in and stuffing down since Mimi died surges inside me.
When the time finally came the day before Christmas, Sasha, Laila, and I were at Mimi’s side. After that, Laila remained in Chicago with me through Christmas and beyond, as Sasha and I threw together a small funeral for our grandma, which my bandmates attended, as did some of Mimi’s old neighbors, her caregivers, and Sasha’s mother.
After that, I insisted Laila take the trip to Cabo we’d originally planned to take together, but with her mom, sister, and baby niece. I told Laila I could use a few days to grieve with Sasha in Chicago, and then on my own in LA. And it was the truth when I said it. But the minute Laila left Chicago, I felt like I was missing my right arm. And when I walked into that stupid reality TV mansion in LA, all by myself, I felt like I was missing not only my other arm, but both legs, too. As it turned out, I didn’t want to be alone, like I’d thought I would. I wanted to be with Laila.
I release Amalia from our warm hug, made even warmer by the cool night air.
“My grandma, Mimi, died,” I say softly. “The day before Christmas.”
Sympathy washes over Amalia’s elegant face. “Oh, Adrian. I’m so sorry.” She hugs me again and then guides me inside. In Reed’s kitchen, I sit at the table while Amalia puts the kettle on. And we talk, every bit as easily as we did the last time, even though I’m not shitfaced this time.
As we drink our tea, we talk about Mimi, at first. After a while, however, we talk about spirituality, in general. The fact that we both believe Mimi is still with me, and always will be. And, finally, I tell Amalia about Laila. Specifically, I admit I’ve fallen desperately in love with her, but haven’t had the nerve to say the magic words to her, just yet.
“I guess I’m waiting for the perfect moment,” I say.
“Don’t wait for a ‘perfect moment,’” Amalia advises. “Just let it blurt out of you, whenever you can’t hold it in any longer.”
“Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll say it first.”
Amalia looks at me the same way Mimi always did whenever I’d said something stupid. “Don’t worry about being first, Adrian,” she says. “Tell Laila you love her whenever you’re ready, whether Laila has said it or not. Better to have spoken what’s on your heart and risked it all, then wonder ‘What if?’ later.”
I nod. “That’s good advice, Abu. Thanks.” I bite my lip. “I’ve got a favor to ask you. Laila is out of town until Tuesday, and all my friends are scattered for the holidays. I don’t want to spend the night, all alone, in the huge house I share with Laila. So, I was wondering if I could stay here with you?”
“Of course, you can.”
My heart leaps. “You don’t think Reed will mind?”
“Reed would insist on it.”
My shoulders soften. “It’ll only be two nights. And I won’t bug you. I’ll just say hi to you, here and there, in between whatever you’re doing.”
Amalia smiles. “You can stay as long as you like.”
“Thank you. I’ve got a bag in the car. If you’d said no, I was going straight to a hotel.”
Amalia scowls. “No more hotels for you, Adrian, unless you’re on vacation. If ever you need a place to stay, you’ll always come here. Do you understand?”
My heart bursts. “Yes, ma’am. Although I’m sure Reed will have a slightly different opinion.”
“No, he won’t. I’ve mentioned to him how much I adore you, and he was highly supportive of me taking you under my wing.”
“He was?”
“Of course. Reed thought it was very sweet that we bonded when you stayed here with the show.”
I run my finger over the rim of my mug for a moment, trying to imagine Reed and Amalia’s conversation about me, but it doesn’t compute. The Reed Rivers I know would cut off my balls, dip them in eggs and breadcrumbs, bake them at four hundred degrees, and eat them with a nice aioli sauce. “Reed must be a lot nicer behind closed doors than he seems, huh? I mean, if you like him so much.”
“Reed is a prince among men and also a shrewd businessman. A man can be both.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m neither.”
She chuckles. “I don’t know about that. You seem like a prince to me. At least, a prince in training. I’m sure Laila would agree.”
I smile shyly. “Laila calls me The Beast, actually. You know, like in Beauty and the Beast?”
Amalia’s dark eyes sparkle. “I’d bet anything that’s Laila’s highest compliment.”
“Yeah, when she says it, she gets a naughty little gleam in her eye that gives me a little zap where it counts, if you know what I mean.”
“Adrian. That’s not what I meant.”
I laugh. That’s exactly how Mimi used to say my name when I’d said something kind of naughty. I ask, “Will you say that again for me, Abu?”
“Say what?”
“My name. Like I’ve gravely disappointed you.”
Amalia pauses, looking lovely. But, finally she humors me and repeats my name. This time, looking positively charmed by me.
“Thank you. I like hearing you say my name like that. You sound just like Mimi.”
Amalia lays her hand on mine. “I’ll always be here for you, Adrian.”
“Thank you.” I look down at my mug of tea. “I realized something after Mimi died. Even if you’re lucky enough to leave this earth with white hair and wrinkled skin, there’s still far too little time. And I don’t want to waste mine. Not a second of it.” I run my fingertip over the rim of my mug again. “Last week, I was able to sell a house I’d bought for Mimi for a tidy sum. So, I’ve decided to use that money to buy a place of my own and ask Laila to move in with me, when the show is over.”
“How exciting. Congratulations.”
“Hopefully, I’ll get the courage to say the magic words to her before then. If not, that’d be pretty awkward, huh?”
Amalia chuckles.
“I don’t want to ask if I can move in with Laila at her condo. That’d feel like me mooching, you know? Like me asking Kendrick if I can sleep on his couch, rather than The Beast turning into The Prince and inviting Belle to live at his castle.”
Amalia puts her palm on her heaving chest. “Maybe you’re not a prince in training, after all.”
I shrug. “I’m a little nervous Laila will turn me down, only because she loves the little condo she bought herself. She’s super proud of it. So, I think I should buy a place that’ll knock Laila onto her ass, you know? Some place that’s a huge s
tep up from her condo, where she’ll be excited to live with me.”
“I’m confident Laila will say yes to you, and it will have nothing to do with the house itself. She’ll say yes because she wants to be with you.”
“Well, that would be preferable,” I admit. “But I’m not taking any chances. You should have seen her excitement when she saw the fancy mansion we’re living in now. I don’t want a place as big as that. I don’t like big spaces. But I do want whatever house I get to have some kind of ‘wow’ factor. Maybe an ocean view. Laila said she loves the ocean. I’d want a home gym and hot tub, too. Oh, and a living room that’s big enough for a baby grand piano.”
“You play piano?”
“No, but Laila does.”
Amalia smiles. “That sounds lovely.”
“So I guess what I’m asking is will you help me find a house like that? My manager gave me the number for a real estate agent, but the whole thing feels overwhelming to me. I’ve never bought a house for myself, and certainly not one I’m planning to surprise my girlfriend with.”
“Oh, you’re not going to ask Laila to help you look for the perfect place?”
“No. Going house hunting with my girlfriend feels like way too big a thing. I just want to find the perfect house and surprise her with it. And when she’s feeling blown away by my new digs, I’ll surprise her by asking her to live there with me.”
“That sounds wonderful. But I’m not the right person to help you buy a house. Reed, however, is an expert when it comes to real estate. I’m sure he’d—”
Movement at the entrance to the kitchen attracts our attention, and speak of the devil, Reed enters the room, along with his fiancée, Georgina, both of them dressed to kill.
“Savage,” Reed says, sounding surprised, but not upset, to find me sitting at his kitchen table.
“Adrian needs a place to stay for a few nights,” Amalia explains. “His grandmother passed away recently and Laila is out of town. He’d rather not be alone.”
