Page 134 of Someone Like Me
“Sure thing, baby. I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”
And I do, but there’s no sign of the little mutt who darted through traffic to catch Evie’s eye. At least looking for it keeps me from dreading my return to the hospital where what stands between me and the person in my family who loves me the most is the one who hates me the most.
But I walk through the main entrance of the hospital without seeing Ma… I mean Lottie. (I can’t really call the womanMaif she’s disowned me.)
I figure out that the geriatric wing is on the sixth floor, and I take the elevator. My phone has no signal on the ride up, so I can’t ask Annie for Grandma Q’s room number, but it turns out I don’t need to. The nurse’s station is right in front of the elevators.
When I reach her room, my eye falls at once to Grandma Q. Clear tubes cross her face, pumping oxygen into her nose. She looks impossibly small and lies as still as death on the hospital bed. The sight is like stepping through ice into freezing water. Shocking. Paralyzing.
Annie’s in the chair on the other side of the bed, her laptop balanced on her knees. My sister watches me with sympathy in her eyes.
“Where is everyone?” I whisper.
She rises, puts down her computer, and tiptoes over to me. “Ma’s on duty downstairs. Josie has to watch the boys this afternoon, and Aunt Shelly went to get us some lunch,” she says, giving me a rueful smile. “I hope you like Schlotzsky's.”
I haven’t had time to think about food, but at the mention of lunch, my stomach complains loudly about missing breakfast. It feels like ages since I woke up, but it’s only a little after eleven. “I’ll eat anything right now.” My gaze flicks to Grandma. “How is she?”
Annie’s mouth presses into a thin line. “Definitely pneumonia, but they’re doing some blood work,” she says, her voice dropping. What good it will do, I don’t know, since Grandma can hear everything.
At least, I hope she still can.
“The doctors are worried about a secondary infection.” Annie’s eyes lock with mine. “It’s not good, Drew.”
A rasping, rattling sound comes from the bed, and we both turn to see Grandma blinking at us. “Don’t scare the boy, Anne Marie.”
Grandma’s voice sounds thready and tired, but at least she has it in her to scold Annie. I take that as a good sign and approach the bed. “She’s not scaring me, Grandma. You are.”
Her gaze, which looks just a little unfocused moves to Annie. “Sweet girl, give me and your brother a few minutes.”
Even as weak as Grandma sounds, Annie wouldn’t dream of disobeying her. None of us would.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll… I’ll run downstairs for a newspaper.” And she scurries out before either of us can respond.
Grandma Q pats the mattress on her left side, near the now-empty chair, her eyes closing. “Come sit by me, Andrew.”
My feet feel like their chained to cinder blocks. My gut protests. Whatever she wants to tell me, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hear it. But I move. This is Grandma Quincy. Whatever she wants, she gets.
When I sit beside her, I cover her hand with mine so she knows I’m here. Her hand is warm and dry, but when she turns it over to clasp mine, it feels so weak.
Grandma Quincy tilts her face in my direction and peels her eyes open. “You know what I want to say to you, Andrew?”
The sound of my exhale fills the room. “No,” I deny, but I’m thinking about her words from this morning when the EMTs arrived. Words about it being her time.
She closes her eyes but her brow arches. “I’m ready, Andrew.”
I’m shaking my head even though she can’t see me. “I’m not, Grandma.”
My grandmother has the nerve to laugh. At least she makes a noise that starts off sounding like a laugh, but trips head first into a spluttering, wheezing cough that goes on and on. I’m on my feet, looking for the buzzer to call the goddamn nurse when she raises her hand to stop me.
“Not going… right this minute,” she rasps, watching me through slitted eyes. I sit again, but my stomach feels like it’s caught in a bear trap.
“Since when do you talk about giving up?” I keep my voice low, but I can hear anger in it all the same. The peace I felt while talking to Evie just a little while ago is long gone. “You’re too strong to talk like that.”
Slowly, very slowly, my grandma nods. “I’ve been strong. All my life. I’ve done everything I’ve needed to do…including making sure you got back on your feet after.” She fixes me with a hard stare that makes me feel a little ashamed. “I’m tired. I’m ready for my rest.”
Is it selfish to want her to be around for years and years? Hell, I don’t care if it is.
“But I’m here now. I can take care of you,” I promise. “I can take care of the house, the yard, your vegetables…” I trail off because she’s eyeing me like I’m a fool.
