“This is your home,” I say. I know that’s not completely true, but the house she remembers is long gone. It’s been sold for months.
She gestures wildly in the air. “I want to leave and they won’t let me. Take me home.”
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I know that if I explain to her that she sold the house and moved in here using her freewill, she won’t believe me. She’d call me a liar. Or she’d remember and be devastated. Neither one of those options are good.
One of the nurses pulls me aside in the hallway. “We got her to calm down a little bit, but she’s refusing to eat, which is why we called you in here. We thought maybe you could help.”
I scratch the back of my head. “I don’t know what you think I’ll be able to do.”
“She’s been asking for you a lot lately.”
“She has?”
The nurse nods. “She doesn’t always remember your name, but she’ll ask us to make sure you get dinner or to leave the light on so you can study. She misses you.”
I find it hard to believe. She probably remembers parts of her old routine. “What do you want me to say to her?”
“Try not to argue with her. Let her know that she’s safe. Maybe you could even offer to eat with her.”
That doesn’t seem too hard. When we go back into the room, I kneel next to Grandma. “Do you know who I am?”
Her gaze falls on me, and she smiles, patting my hand. “You’re my good boy.”
Hergood boy? Those words make my stomach twist and turn. Is that what she thought of me? Then why didn’t she treat me better? Why did she make me feel like everything I did wasn’t good enough? Hearing her call me a “good boy” makes me want to crawl into a dark hole and cry.
“Can I take you to lunch?” I ask.
Grandma’s face has changed so much in the last year. I’m not used to the smiles and soft glances. I keep expecting her to go back to her usual stern expressions and remarks, but she doesn’t. She nods, holding out her hand. “If you’re buying.”
I take Grandma’s hand and lead her to the dining area. It’s a large room with lots of tables peppered throughout. We sit down and wait for Grandma’s meal to come. Laura comes and joins us. She hugs Grandma and sits next to her. I don’t think Grandma knows who she is, but she doesn’t mind Laura. Laura is a good talker. She fills the gaps in the conversation that I don’t have the energy to. They talk about the food and Laura’s baby. Grandma shares random stories from when shewas pregnant with my mom. I don’t know if they’re true, but she seems to remember the past better than the present.
Grandma doesn’t eat right away. She takes a lot of convincing, but eventually she takes a few bites. She doesn’t like the taste of most foods now. Her favorite part of her meal was the dessert. It’s a slice of cherry pie with whipped cream on top.
After a while I notice Grandma’s eyes droop. I walk her back to her room and help her into her bed for a nap. I ask Laura to wait outside.
Grandma settles into the bed, pulling the blankets up close to her.
I know this is a long shot but I ask her anyway. “Grandma, why didn’t you tell my dad about me?”
She closes her eyes. It’s not fair that she looks this peaceful. She has the ability to forget all the horrible memories and be happy.
“You’re my good boy,” she whispers.
That’s not what I want to hear. “Why didn’t you tell Justin about the baby?”
She frowns, nose twitching. “The baby?”
“Ashley’s baby.”
Grandma opens her eyes and smiles at me. She reaches up and touches my face. “Because I wanted the baby to be happy. I didn’t want the baby to live like his parents.”
I was her second chance. It was her opportunity to raise a kid again, and this time she was determined to prevent the mistakes she made the first time, even if it meant I didn’t get to have friends or have fun. Part of me wants to forgive her, but my eyes sting. This doesn’t make up for the way she treated me growing up.
Her hand is still on my face. “Is the baby happy?”
Tears fill my eyes to the brim as sorrow cuts through me. No. I’m not happy, but I nod to give her fake assurance.
I take her hand and set it down on the bed. “I think you should go to sleep now.”