Page 54 of Always Be an Us

"Hopefully I can get out of here before the fall festival," he says. "I promised that old woman that I would beat her at the next Apple Shoot. And if I don’t show up, she'll never let me hear the end of it."

I smile. Apple Shoot is a very popular game, native to Laketown, that occurs during the fall fest. Like its name suggests, a bunch of people go into the forest and toss apples into baskets that get increasingly farther away. At the end, whoever gets the most apples in their basket wins.

Poppy has a steady arm and has won every single year. But Grandpa challenged her after the last Apple Shoot, and this is his year to square up.

"Speaking of Poppy, I think she came to see you when you were out of it," I mention.

"She did?" His eyes widen in surprise.

"Yeah. I caught her on the way out."

He muses on this piece of information. "Probably came all this way to make sure I hadn't croaked."

"Funny, that’s the same thing she said." I grin at him. "But I’ll let her know you haven’t when I see her next."

My grandpa harrumphs and then his eyes get soft again. "Sorry about all this kiddo."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, this can't be fun for you. The last time you were in a hospital this long was that day..." He trails off but I know exactly what he means.

"That day" is code for the day that my parents died in a fire. It’s the only way Grandpa refers to it.

"Actually," I correct, "the last time I was in the hospital this long was when I got my root canal taken out and they had to sedate me because I wouldn’t stop screaming my head off."

"Oh, I remember that." Grandpa smiled again. "Jesus, I hadn't heard you scream that loud since the day you were born. But you are such a baby when it comes to pain. You get that from your daddy."

I smile and brush some strands of hair back.

"You know he ran in to save people," he says. "Your father that is."

"What?" I'm stunned by the abrupt change in tone and conversation.

Grandpa gets a far-off look in his eye. "The day of the fire. According to the eyewitnesses, he came out of the hotel at the start of the fire, with your mother. But then he heard people were stuck on the second floor and he ran back in to save them. And then your mother, hotheaded as she is, refused to stay in place and went in after him."

His eyes get a little watery and he wipes them.

"Your daddy managed to save a bunch of folks before he got caught up in the fire. Your mother refused to leave him there and the smoke inhalation did her in too."

"Oh my God." I cover my mouth with my hand, shock overtaking me. "I never knew any of this."

"Because I didn't want you to," Grandpa says. "I thought it would hurt you to know that they could have survived if they hadn’t gone back in. If your father wasn't such a damn hero and if your mother didn't love him so damn much, they would be alive. I thought you would be mad or hurt if you knew. But now…"

He shakes his head. "After that last brush with death, it doesn't feel right taking that secret to the grave."

"Oh, Grandpa." Despite my best efforts the tears are now flowing down my cheeks and choking my breath. Truthfully, I don’t know how to feel.

On one hand, I'm proud of my parent's bravery and their shining love for each other.

But at the same time, Grandpa is right. There is something devastating about knowing that they could have survived the fire, if they had chosen to save themselves instead.

Selfishly, I wish they had.

I can't hug Grandpa, so I settle for laying by him. He scoots over to accommodate me.

"Tell me how they met," I whisper.

"I must have told you that about a hundred times, kiddo."

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