by Andrea Ring
“But you don’t know that!” I say. “How do you know he’s protecting me? He basically set me up so you could die!”
“He was making sure my wishes were carried out,” she says. “Tonight was about me.”
“With no thought for me,” I say.
“You and I want opposite things, Thomas. He can’t please the both of us in this.”
“But he could have talked to me about it before. I could have been ready.”
“Would you ever have been ready?” she asks gently.
I squeeze her hand. “I’m being selfish.”
She squeezes back. “Never. You’re demonstrating how much you love me. I…I never thought I’d have that, your love. I never thought I’d get to know you. I thought I was going to die alone in Florida.”
“That’s what you wanted,” I say, miserable.
“It’s what life handed me, and I accepted it. There’s a difference between acceptance and desire.”
“So you don’t feel cheated?” I ask.
She laughs. “I feel like the luckiest woman in the world! But I missed out on a lot by accepting my fate. Your mom, for instance. I wish I’d been here to spend more time with her.”
“Did you know her well?”
“I’d like to think so. When she and your dad got engaged, they came to visit me for two weeks. She was so smart, so in tune with your dad. She knew his flaws and worked around them, made them into assets, even. She had a knack for that. And I’d never seen him so happy. He couldn’t believe a woman like that would love him.”
“I doubt that,” I say. “Dad thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”
Grandma smiles. “Come now. You know him better than that. He’s all talk. The truth is, your dad is the most self-aware person I’ve ever known. He knows his faults, all too well.”
“Not when it comes to me.”
“Parenthood is tough, Thomas,” she says. “A parent has zero experience until he’s in the trenches, bullets flying. But he loves you. He adored your mom. I trust him.”
I sigh and close my eyes. “I’ve wanted you back for so long…I’ve dreamt of the day I could heal you and you could come back to us. You could stay, just for a little while.”
Grandma purses her lips. “And any moment I could slip away. You and your dad would hover over me, baby me, be afraid to leave me alone. It’s not fair to you.”
“I don’t mind—”
“But I do!” she says, voice rising. Then she sighs. “You’ll have to trust your dad. I know he’s trustworthy. If I thought for one minute he’d hurt you, I’d intervene.” Grandma turns her head away from me and sniffles. “Other than that, we don’t have a lot of time, Thomas. Is there anything else you’d like to talk to me about?”
A tear glides down my cheek and hangs on my upper lip. “Are you scared?” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “Not now. Imagine it—I’m going to see my parents again.”
“You believe that?”
“I do,” she says. “And your mom, my dog Rascal, my grandfather…and Harry.”
“You’ve missed him, haven’t you?”
“Desperately,” she says.
“There’s nothing I can say to…to change your mind?”
Grandma smiles and leans into my hand. “I love you. Always. I’ll be watching over you.”
We stare at each other, smiling, not because we’re happy, but just…trying to convey how much we mean to each other. Tears pour from my eyes.
I have to respect her wishes.
“Dad!” I yell. I’m sure he’s within earshot.
Dad comes back into the room and takes up his post opposite me.
I back out of Grandma’s body. I heal us. But I don’t let go of her hand.
“I love you, Michael,” she says. “Take care of Thomas. He’s the best of us.”
Dad leans over and kisses Grandma’s cheek. She throws her arm over him and they share a long hug.
“It’s time,” she says, turning to me.
“I’m staying,” I tell her.
Dad kneels down, and we both clutch tightly to Grandma.
“Harry’s here,” she whispers. “I can feel him.”
Grandma stops her heart.
I watch her take her last breath.
And when she’s still, I lean over and rest my head on her chest and breathe her sweet vanilla scent in one last time.
Chapter Twenty-Three
As we watch the mortuary pull out of the driveway with Grandma’s body, I dash the tears from my eyes and sit on the front porch steps.
“You knew this would be the outcome,” I say.
Dad sighs. “Not for sure. We talked about it when she was first losing her memory. I knew she didn’t want to live like this.”
“Yet you did nothing.”
“Would you have preferred it if I put a pillow over her face in the middle of the night?”
My whole body tenses. “You obviously thought about it.”
“Of course,” he says. “That’s what she wanted me to do. But I was a coward.”
“How can you say that?” I ask. “You couldn’t kill her! That would be murder. I’m the one who was the coward. I should have healed her back when she started to slip. It’s my fault.”
“She didn’t want it, Thomas,” Dad says. He sits down beside me and I hear his knees pop. “She made me promise not to let you. If she had had her way, the cancer would have taken her.”
“Again,” I say, “my fault. She healed herself to come take care of me when Mom died. I kept her from the death she wanted.”
“I’m the one who asked her to come out,” he says, “and neither of us held a gun to her head. She wanted to be here for us. And she was. It was her final gift. She got us through the worst time in our lives.”
I rub my eyes. “Did you actually want me to heal her?”
“I wanted what she wanted. I was hoping…but you know how I feel about hope. All it does is lead to disappointment. I knew her wishes. She wanted to be at home, with us.”
“Did Erica know?”
“Yes.”
“Then…what did you really want to happen?”
Dad leans forward and wraps his arms around his knees. “I wanted to hear her speak again. Her, the real her. I needed to know that she still wanted to let go. I would never have been able to do it otherwise. And I knew you were the only one who could bring her back for us.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?” I ask. “I would have brought her back to hear her wishes. Why give me false hope? Why not prepare me?”
Dad leans back on his hands and stares up at the cloudy midnight sky. “I am preparing you. Life throws us a curveball every Goddamn day. You never know what’s coming next. This is me parenting, right or wrong.”
I want to scream, “Goddamn right, it’s wrong!” But there’s a certain poetic-ness to what he said. He’s preparing me…by not preparing me. The theme of my childhood.
We’re sitting so close our thighs are almost touching. I feel a sudden understanding for my father. Not a liking for him—not that—but I want to touch him. To communicate this new understanding to him. Maybe even to hug him.
Before I can move, though, Dad stands.
“I’m going to bed,” he says. “Long night. You coming?”
I heave myself to my feet. “Yeah. I’m coming.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
If I slept, my body has no memory of it. I finally get up around 4:30, exhausted and drooping but unable to lie in bed one minute longer.
I swish some mouthwash and drive over to Tessa’s house. I text her on the way, but don’t expect her to get the text.
I find their house key in a little rock in the planter by the front door. I tiptoe in as quietly as possible and make my way to Tessa’s room.
She’s lying on her side facing me, breathing softly. I watch her for a minute, debating whether or not to wake her.
I pull my t-shirt over my head, toe off my shoes, and s
trip off my jeans. I climb into bed behind her, settle the covers around us, and wrap myself around her.
Tessa startles, and I squeeze tight, whispering in her ear. “It’s just me.”
She twists around to face me. “What’s up?”
“Grandma,” I manage to squeak out.
“Your grandma? Something happened?”
“She’s dead.”
Tessa buries her head in my neck and clings to me. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”
I press myself into her and sob.
Tessa holds me. She just holds me.
***
I wake up alone to the smell of bacon.
I put my clothes on and follow my nose to the kitchen. Tessa is flipping pancakes, and a slab of crispy bacon cools on a plate next to the stove.
She goes to the fridge and pours me a giant cup full of orange juice. I take it gratefully.
“How are you feeling?”
“Shitty,” I say.
“What happened?”
I tell her the story, and Tessa doesn’t interrupt once.
“So then Dad, he says that this is his parenting style, letting me just deal with shit as it comes, with no warning, no help from him.”
“It kind of makes sense,” she says as she sets a plate of food in front of me. “I mean, in a twisted way.”
I dig in. “How does it make sense?” I ask, mouth full.
“It’s what you do for a toddler,” she says. “As soon as they’re able, you let them dress themselves. Otherwise, how will they learn?”
“I’ve never met a teenager who couldn’t tie their own shoes,” I say.
Tessa smiles. “Okay, how about chores? Mom did everything for Ian and Matty, and when they went to college, they didn’t even know how to do their own laundry. Matt had to wear pink underwear and socks his entire freshman year, and that apparently went over real well with the baseball team. So when Mom found out, she started having Sam and I do our own laundry.”
I glare at her. “Why are you on his side?”
“I’m not. Your grandma, and your abilities, and Mom and your Dad’s relationship, none of them is equal to pink underwear. But you have to admit he has a point.”
“He’s sacrificing my relationship with him to make that point.”
“Maybe there’s a point to that, too,” she says.
I snort. That’s highly doubtful.
Except my dad doesn’t do anything without a purpose.
I wipe my mouth. “Actually, he told me I’m an experiment.”
Tessa looks at me in horror. “You’re not an experiment. That’s ridiculous.”
“But think about it,” I say. “It makes sense. I mean, I knew my dad was ordered to have a child. I was planned from the beginning. I just didn’t realize the experiment continued past my birth. And my grandma confirmed it.”
“That’s…like a science fiction novel,” she says. “I don’t believe it. Your dad loves you.”
“Where’s the evidence for that?” I ask.
“Well he…he provided for you,” she says softly.
“The State provides for orphans.”
“He made sure your grandma was around when your mom died.”
“Evidence that he didn’t want to take responsibility himself,” I say.
Tessa sighs. “He bought the gallery for you, so you could display your sculptures.”
“Grandma’s idea, not his.”
Tessa gets up from her stool and hugs me from the back. “I just know he loves you. In my heart. I believe that.”
I just wish I believed that, too.
***
I go back home for a shower. Dad seems to still be asleep. I wonder if it’s disrespectful to Grandma to go to work today, but the last thing I want to do is to be alone, in mourning, with Dad.
And Grandma’s last wish was for me to live and heal others. I’m going to work.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I text Dr. Rumson on my drive to work, and he calls me as I pull in the parking lot of the Planarian Institute. I shut off my ignition and answer. “Hey.”
“Thomas, I’m so sorry to hear about your grandma.”
“Thanks,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “It hasn’t hit me yet, I don’t think.”
“Why don’t you meet me at the church? We can hang out, pray, maybe write up a eulogy. I’ll help you through it.”
“I appreciate that,” I say, “but I’m going to spend the day at work. The whole thing is complicated. Can I come by after?”
“Of course. I’ll be here. Any time.”
“How about 5:30? I’ll come straight from work.”
“Call if you need anything,” he says. “I’ll be standing by.”
“Thanks, Dr. Rumson,” I say. “See you tonight.”
“Take care.”
And I heave myself out of the car and into the Institute.
***
I find Kate in our office, on the phone. I motion with my thumb over my shoulder that I’ll wait outside, but Kate shakes her head and waves me to my desk.
“Yes, we looked at the files yesterday…yes, all of us…Thomas? Yes, Thomas Van Zandt recently joined our staff, but he’s just an intern, Mr. Brooks…he’s not quite ready to…sir, I understand your frustration, and I sympathize. I’m so sorry about your daughter, but there’s nothing…” Her eyes slide to me, then back to the top of her desk. “That’s not our protocol. My husband and I are well versed in cases like Olivia’s, as are the other doctors who’ve already looked at her. If we come up with something, you’ll be the first to know, but right now…no. I’m sorry. I have to go…yes. I will. Goodbye.”
Kate hangs up the phone and sighs. “That is the pushiest man I’ve ever met.”
“Do you blame him?” I ask.
She wheels her chair to face me. “Do you know Pastor Brooks?”
“No,” I say, surprised. “Why?”
“He said to tell you he’s very sorry for the loss of your grandmother.”
I stare at her.
“Did you lose your grandmother recently?” she asks.
I swallow. “Last night.”
“Oh, Thomas, I’m so sorry,” she says. “What are you doing here?”
“I have some questions,” I say, “and…I just didn’t want to be home alone today. How did he know? I’ve told two people.”
“Wow,” she says. “This is getting a little creepy. We’ll figure out how to deal with the pastor, but you…are you sure you don’t want to take some time off?”
“Actually, I’m not sure,” I say, “but like I said, I do have some questions, some things I want to run by the two of you.”
“Let me call Kenneth in.” She dials his office number and asks him to join us. “If you need to go, you just let us know.”
“Thanks, Kate.”
Kenneth comes in, shakes my hand, and props his butt on Kate’s desk. “What’s up?”
“My grandmother passed away last night. She…shit, this is long and involved, but let me see if I can simplify it. She and my dad have the same abilities I do, except they can’t grow nerves in the central nervous system. That seems to be the major difference between us.”
“That’s a big one,” Kenneth says.
“Yep. And she explained to me last night that people with our abilities die young. At seventy-five, she was the oldest Dweller ever.”
“Dweller?” Kate asks.
“Attic Dweller. That’s what we call ourselves. Anyway, she only lived that long because for thirty years, she stopped using her abilities completely. But she said…we’re lucky if we hit fifty. My dad’s almost fifty.”
“So you’re accelerating the aging process by healing yourself. Maybe doubly so since you’re healing others,” Kenneth says.
I nod. “I never really thought I’d live a long life,” I say. “I mean, it’s dangerous to heal. There’s an immediate danger of pushing your body to its limits. But I dismissed the long-term effects. I kind of assumed I was bette
r off long-term because I could head off disease or decay easier than most people.”
“The aging process is an entirely different area of study,” Kate says. “In fact, most of the thinking right now is that to stop aging, we just have to induce cells to replicate as fast as they did in our youth. I don’t think anyone in the research field has posited that this may have other negative consequences.”
“Is your dad in trouble?” Kenneth asks. “Do you think he’s dying?”
“I have no idea,” I say. “Is he getting older? Sure. Dying? He wouldn’t tell me if he were. He’s not that forthcoming with me. But he’s been getting his affairs in order. He appointed a guardian for me if something happens to him. And last night, he—”
“Excuse me.”
We all startle at the man in the doorway. None of us heard him enter.
Kenneth stands. “Can we help you?”
The man, fiftyish, graying, in a black suit and tie, holds his hand out. “I’m Cyrus Brooks. It’s a pleasure to meet you in the flesh.”
He and Kenneth shake. “Mr. Brooks, I’m Kenneth Mullen, and this is my wife, Kate. What can we help you with?”
Cyrus Brooks turns to me. “And this must be Thomas Van Zandt, prodigy extraordinaire.”
I don’t move. If he thinks he can flatter me, he’s sorely mistaken. “Mr. Brooks,” I say.
The three of us stare at him.
“Well, I, I couldn’t give up without a fight,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Olivia’s my daughter. I had to meet with you in person and see if there’s anything at all you can do to help us.”
“I think I was quite clear on the phone,” Kate says. “We’re very sorry for your loss, but there’s nothing we can do.”
“I wonder if I could speak to Thomas alone for a moment. I’m sure we can help each other.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kate says.
“Help each other with what?” I ask him.
“I’m looking at acquiring some real estate, and there’s a house. The Halters own it, I believe. I’m very interested in purchasing it.”
Kate and Kenneth look at me questioningly.
I stand. “Fine. Let’s talk in the lobby.”
