I’d hoped for the rally. It looked like I wasn’t going to get it.
At 7:00 p.m., Jillian, Lucy, and Mom all went to dinner at a restaurant close by. I stayed. I wouldn’t be going home anymore. No more night nurse. Mom and I were sleeping bedside because we were too close to the end.
Once everyone had cleared the apartment, I put the railing down. Checked Grandma’s vitals. Her blood pressure was low. Her hands and feet were cold because her circulation was in service to the organs that were failing.
I brushed the hair back off her forehead, put some of Jillian’s lip balm on her lips. Lit her favorite candle. Then I picked up her hand and pressed the back of it to my cheek and closed my eyes.
I was going to miss her so much.
I wasn’t ready.
My job was to help others be ready, but I couldn’t do it for myself.
I felt like I couldn’t do anything for myself right now. I couldn’t unpack my apartment or ask a cute guy for his name in a courtyard. I couldn’t even put air in my tires.
I knew my life would kick-start again. But it wouldn’t happen until hers was over. It would happen because hers was over and I had no choice but to keep going on.
“I never told you about my first husband,” a voice said quietly.
My eyes flew open. Grandma was awake. I smiled at her. “Hey.”
“Hello, my sweet Holly.”
Hearing my name made the knot bolt to my throat. Because the truth was, I thought I’d already heard her say it for the last time.
“You thought I was a goner, huh?” she joked tiredly.
I laughed a little. “Not yet.”
“I couldn’t go without telling you.”
“Telling me what?”
“About Chip,” she said. “I didn’t forget. Sit. I don’t think we have a lot of time.”
I sniffed and sat on the comforter and took her hand. “What is it, Grandma? I’m listening.”
“I’ve never told anyone what I’m about to tell you.”
“Okay. Say whatever you need to say. It stays with me.”
“I don’t care who you tell,” she said. “Anyone who cared is long dead. I’ll be gone before they can arrest me, and Lucy will never confess.”
I wrinkled my forehead. “Confess—”
“I killed him.”
I jerked to stare at her. “What?”
“I did,” she said matter-of-factly. “Chip was a mean drunk. He liked to hit me. One day he came at me, and I just knew that was it. I wasn’t getting out alive. I clocked him on the side of the head with a cast-iron frying pan.”
I blinked at her.
“Lucy and I put him in the back of my station wagon. Drove to the river, rolled him into the water. I called the sheriff the next day and told him my husband went drinking and never came home. They found him a few weeks later. Called it an accident. They thought he probably fell off a bridge or something.”
I was in shock. “Grandma . . . ,” I breathed.
“Feels good to tell someone,” she said, closing her eyes.
I licked my lips. “It’s okay,” I said. “Get it off your chest.”
She opened her eyes again. “Oh, it’s not on my chest. I’d do it all over again. He’d have killed me. No, the whole point in me telling you this story is to remind you that we need to manifest our own destiny. I never accepted less than what I deserved ever again. Never ignored a red flag or excused bad behavior. I asked for what I wanted, and I protected those I loved, and I demanded the things I needed, and I had a beautiful life. Got seventy more years of living because I decided not to lay down and die that day when some weak man who deserved a dick guillotine made the choice to hurt me.” She held my gaze for a long, meaningful moment. “Take responsibility for your own unhappiness, Holly. If you don’t love your life, change it.”
It was like the words took all that she had left. She lay back against her pillow and closed her eyes. Then she went eerily still.
My heart started to pound. “Grandma?” I shook her gently. “Grandma, wake up,” I said, panicking. “Please. I can’t have your last words contain the phrase ‘dick guillotine.’”
She chuckled weakly to herself, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“You’re gonna have so many people waiting for you in heaven one day, beautiful girl,” she said quietly. “I’ll be the first one in line.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “I love you,” I whispered.
She didn’t whisper it back. She’d said all she ever would.
She passed the next morning surrounded by everyone she loved.
John
CHAPTER 10
The white Honda had the nurse bobblehead on the dash when I got to Frank’s two days after I met the woman with the jade bracelet in the courtyard. It was holding a little Thank You sign through the window. There was also a succulent on the back right tire with a card.
To the Worst Wingman Ever, Thank you for your kindness over these last few days. You will never know how much it was needed. I hope both sides of your pillow are always cold, and your cell phone is always charged, and your brother always delivers his own Valentine’s Day cards (and sex coupons).
I’d like to leave you with some parting words of wisdom that someone recently gifted me. I very much needed to hear this. Maybe you do too.
“Take responsibility for your own unhappiness. If you don’t love your life, change it.”
I hope you love your life. But if you don’t . . .
—H
I laughed a little to myself when I was done reading it. I did need to hear it.
And I never saw that car there again.
Holly
CHAPTER 11
Jillian and I were at the funeral, standing over Grandma’s coffin, peering down at her.
It had been a week since we lost her.
She looked peaceful. Her hands were folded delicately in her lap, and she was wearing purple, her favorite color.
I’d been through a kaleidoscope of emotions over the last seven days.
I’d debated who to tell about Grandma’s confession, or if I should tell anyone at all. In the end I decided Mom didn’t need to remember her mother that way. She would have too many questions, and she’d go to Lucy for them, and I didn’t want to put my aunt through it. I had to talk to someone about it, and Jillian would never tell a soul, so I told her.
“Grandma killed a guy,” Jillian deadpanned.
“Believe me when I tell you at no point in time did I know where that conversation was going,” I whispered.
“Are you sure it wasn’t a hallucination?” she asked quietly. “Doesn’t that happen at the end?”
“It does, but no. She was lucid. I googled it. I wanted to verify it before I told you. He was a real guy. I saw the death certificate, the marriage certificate, and the newspaper article about his drowning. I’m telling you, she killed him,” I whispered. “And Lucy helped her get rid of the body.”
My sister mouthed the word “damn.”
“Okay, but that is such a boss bitch move, though,” she said.
“I know.”
“An absolute queen. And Aunt Lucy!”
We turned to look at her. She was wiping her nose with a crumpled tissue, over by the guestbook. She looked like Mrs. Claus dressed in black.
“She makes me needlepoints of Bible verses for Christmas.” Jillian shook her head. “She disposed of a dead guy?”
We looked back at Grandma, lying in state.
“I mean, you know how it was back then,” I said quietly. “There wasn’t a lot of recourse for domestic abuse. Your husband could pretty much do anything he wanted to you. Marital rape wasn’t even illegal until 1993. I guess you had to take it into your own hands sometimes.”
“I guess.” She made a face. “Imagine having to kill a guy named Chip,” she whispered. “That would piss me off. Like, you’re gonna have a stupid name and be an asshole? Pick a struggle.”
I snickered through my nose. “Jeb had a stupid name.”
“And the audacity,” she whispered. “I’d shove a dead guy into a river for you. I’d shove a live one in there too.”
“So would I.” I looked at her. “Do you think Grandpa really didn’t know? I mean, you’d have to give off at least a little ‘I Can Kill You’ energy after that, right? ‘I’ve done it once, I can do it again’ vibes?”