Page 99 of Return To You

He peels himself from Chloe. “What the heck, why not.”

Chloe follows him.

After I show them a few moves, and after we eat way too much, and after we lounge outside in the shade, and after we shake the slumber off by walking through the pastures, and after my siblings are all gone, I sit alone with Mom and Dad on the deck. After meaningless chit chat, I say out of the blue, “I can’t believe I messed up Mom’s birth date. How could that happen, I thought for sure it was July 19.”

Dad sets a hand on my thigh. “That was your Grandma’s birthday. She passed the day right before.”

Grandma? I haven’t thought about Grandma in… forever. Literally. My heartbeat pumps up, emotion overcoming me. Tears prickle at my eyes.

“You okay, son?” Dad says.

Mom leans to me. “Oh, honey.”

I take a deep breath. Look at my parents, asking for… for what exactly? What the hell is happening to me, in this moment? So many emotions flooding me. A memory I’ve suppressed pretty much all my life.

“She was… your mom, right?” I ask Dad.

Mom sighs. “Yes. She… your dad and I, we eloped. You know that—right? Our families weren’t… happy that we were together and they… wouldn’t talk to us. Neither side. Anyhoo, a few years after you were born, my parents died in a plane crash, and I inherited the… proverbial farm. We came to work it. Your dad’s parents came around and we reconnected. Your Grandma would come during growing season to help with you and Justin.”

I remember. She’d wear a flowery dress. We’d make apple pies. Finger paint outside. She taught me how to read. As the memories flood back, even her sweet violet scent comes back to me.

“One day, the day before her birthday, we came back and she… she was gone.”

“Gone?”

Dad nods. “She’d died in her sleep. During her nap.”

“You were so good,” Mom says, patting my lap. “You don’t remember?”

I frown. No, I don’t.

“You thought she was cold, so you’d covered her with your blankie. You even changed Justin.”

“You were quite the little man,” Dad says.

And then it comes back to me, like a gigantic slap in the face.

Justin crying from his crib.

Grandma so cold.

And me. Me. Such an idiot. I knew what you were supposed to do when an accident happened. You called 9-1-1. I knew how to use the phone. I’d even been through it in my head. If Grandma falls and can’t get up, I dial 9-1-1 from any phone. I stay calm and tell them my address and what happened. Same if there’s a fire. 9-1-1. Stay calm. Tell them where I am.

But Grandma was sleeping. And I knew you weren’t supposed to wake up adults. Adults need their nap time. Just like babies like Justin.

I remember the smell of baby poop lingering on my fingers, and it remains linked to the shock of understanding I hadn’t done what I was supposed to do for Grandma.

It was simple, wasn’t it? All I needed to do was call 9-1-1, and they would have taken care of Grandma.

But I didn’t.

I failed them.

I remember the shame I felt when they took Grandma away. My toes curling in my shoes. My head slumping between my shoulders. Tears welling in my eyes, that I didn’t feel I had the right to shed.

I’d failed my family. I hadn’t been good enough for them. I’d failed to protect them.

I was the oldest. There were things that were expected of me. And I didn’t meet these expectations.

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