Page 58 of Forget Me Not

She does and I turn her to face the wall. “Okay, when you open them, tell me which one your eyes gravitate toward first. On the count of three.”

“Okay,” she nods, eyes still clamped shut.

“One . . . Two . . . Three . . . open.”

She opens her eyes, pausing and cocking her head to the side.

“That one.” She points to a deep, sea blue with hints of green.

“Then that’s your paint.”

“Wow,” she winces, taking the card from me. “Are you sure?”

“Well, yeah. That’s what called to you.”

“If you say so. If it sucks, I’m blaming you,” she jokes, carrying her paint and color card to the counter.

Twenty minutes later, we’re walking in the front door of the little house where she and her grandma live to find the elderly Ms. Tammy propped up in her old recliner in the living room, a tobacco pipe in her mouth. The thick clouds of smoke waft through the room and Katelyn steps in, waving it away.

“Grandma, Nova’s here.”

“We live in Nova,” she says crankily, not taking her eyes off the TV.

“No,” Katelyn corrects, reaching back to pull me forward. “This is my friend, Nova. Her family owns the inn, remember?”

Grandma turns her eyes on me, perusing me up and down with a disgruntled look before going back to the TV. I used to speak to Ms. Tammy all the time. She used to be a fisherwoman, but since she’s gotten older, her mind’s started to slip and she never comes outside. It’s sad to see her this way, knowing she used to be one of the coolest grandmas in town. Besides mine, of course.

“What’s she want?”

“Grandma!” Katelyn scolds, cheeks flaming red. I try not to chuckle and wave. “I’m so sorry, Nova.”

“It’s good to see you. I’m here to help Katelyn decorate her room.”

Grandma harrumphs. “Used to be my room ‘til she moved back in.”

Katelyn rolls her eyes and I stifle my laugh. Katelyn actually had a decent job back in Portland. She’s one of the few people I used to hang out with back home when I could manage some freedom. Since Ms. Tammy got sick, though, she’s moved back here to care for her. I can’t lie and say it didn’t make me happy, knowing she was also moving to the island. I haven’t spent a summer here since I was eighteen and I just knew after the accident, everyone would either tiptoe around me or have a million questions.

I think, at this point, I would have preferred the interrogation over the worried glances whenever it comes up. Or the hushes whenever death is mentioned, as if I am the only person that’s ever lost someone in this world.

“Well, we better get started if we want to get it done today,” I say, taking Katelyn’s hand before her grandma can throw any more insults at her.

Katelyn leads me through the small house and up to her room. It’s huge, one of those ones that spans the whole upper floor of a coastal house, but I must admit, it does look a bit grandma-ish.

“I don’t know why she has to act that way,” Katelyn murmurs, tossing her purse on the bed. “I think she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. I think she’s just old.”

Katelyn snorts.

“You can say that again.” She shakes her head. “I just don’t know what to do with her sometimes. That pipe will kill her.”

“Yeah,” I agree, readying the paint while she moves some last-minute items to the center of the room. “But so could butter, based on what doctors say. And sugar. Fat. Cheese. Really anything that’s good in the world.”

“I guess that’s true. It smells like ass, though.”

“It does,” I concede. I wait a moment, not sure if I should ask, but feeling like I need to, based on the look on Katelyn’s face. “How is she doing?”

She shrugs. “Some days are better than others. I got her to sit on the porch last night for a little bit. Gave me time to tidy up her room. Well—the living room. She was mad, of course, because it smelled like tropical breeze cleaner and not the asshole of a sailor, but . . .”

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