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Becca bursts into laughter, which scares the life out of poor Grammy.
“See? Now she’s trying to kill me,” she mutters. “She’s after my things, you know. Promise me you won’t let them out of your sight?”
She’s always been like that, so strong willed and resists every attempt of help. I get it, it’s the last bit of independence she has left so she’s holding onto it with everything she has, but for the love of Christ, let me carry your damn bags.
“I promise.”
Finally, we’re ready to go. I glance at Becca and laugh.
“Fuck me,” I mutter.
She smiles and looks over her shoulder at Grammy, who is fast asleep before we’re even out of the driveway.
“She’s sweet,” she says. “And totally not what I was expecting from what you’ve told me about her.” She lifts her gaze, her eyes meeting mine. “You’re really good with her, Liam.”
I shrug, embarrassed. “It’s not really something to be praised about, though. She’s my Grammy. I’d be worried if I wasn’t good with her.”
“I can think of loads of people who wouldn’t know how to interact with their own grandparents.”
“What about you?” I ask. “Do you get on well with yours?”
She smiles sadly. “I never got the chance to meet mine. They died before I was born.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. I don’t need to be told how lucky I am to have her in my life.
She shrugs. “It’s okay. I guess that’s why I feel bad when I get frustrated and annoyed with my mother. She’s getting older, since she had me when she was forty. I think it scares me that one day she won’t be around, like I haven’t really appreciated the time we have now. I give her so much crap.” Becca smiles. “I’m sure I’ll regret that one day.”
“People look back on their lives and regret a lot of things,” I point out. “It’s part of living.”
“I guess,” she agrees.
Neither of us say much until I see the turnoff for the resort. I panic when I read the sign. Shit. I can’t take Grammy in there. I glance at Becca. This is going to be worse than I thought.
“What?” she asks, noticing my expression.
“Nothing.” I shake my head and look in the rearview mirror at sleeping Grammy. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
“Liam. What’s wrong?” Becca repeats, frustrated.
“You didn’t tell me that this resort is a casino,” I finally say. She frowns at me. “Grammy’s gambling problem?” I remind her.
Becca snorts. “You were serious about that? She’s like a hundred years old. I thought you meant when she was younger.”
“She’s ninety-six and I wish I was kidding,” I mutter.
“So she still likes to gamble. That’s kind of cute,” Becca offers.
I shake my head. “No, it’s not cute. I didn’t want to bring this up, but you’re leaving me no choice. Last year, she was kicked out of a poker match for starting a riot. Two people ended up in the hospital.”
“Are we talking about the same person?” Becca asks, giggling. “That sweet little old lady in the back?”
“Trust me. You’ve got no idea what you’ve gotten us into.”
Becca rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”
“Yeah,” I say. “We’ll see.”
I glance once again at Grammy in the rearview mirror, a pang of sadness hitting me. She is getting older. Life can change in the blink of an eye. You think you’ve got all time in the world, but what happens when you lose everything? As horrible as it sounds, Grammy might not wake up tomorrow. Hell, I might not wake up.
“Liam?”
I glance up at Becca. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I said, should I be checking us in? I can take the bags up to our rooms, if you want to sit here with Grammy and let her sleep for a bit longer?”
“Okay, that sounds good.”
She wheels over a trolley and loads the baggage up and then walks inside. Becca booked us separate rooms—a connecting one for Grammy and me, and then Becca has her own room on the floor above.
Grammy wakes up after a few minutes and looks around.
“Where are we?” she snaps.
“At a resort. We’re staying here for tonight so Becca can attend a family event tomorrow.”
“Becca is that girl?” She frowns at the front seat. “Where’s she?”
“She took our bags up to our rooms,” I explain.
“She took my bags?” Her eyes widen with alarm.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I need my bag.” The panic in her eyes makes me start to panic. “Please, Liam. I need it. You have to get me my bag.”
“Calm down,” I say. “We’ll go up there now and get your bags, okay?”
I get out and walk around to help her out of the car, but she shrugs me off, insisting that she can do it herself. I sigh, because nothing I do is right. I’m not sure whether this is another symptom of the dementia, but whatever it is, I’ve never seen her so argumentative.
