Deborah’s my mom, Grandma’s daughter. She’s mistaken me for her twice since she’s been sick, and the doctor says that happens. It scares the shit out of me though—Grandma with a sharp mind is a force of nature. Grandma with dementia or Alzheimer’s would be a nightmare.
“It’s me, Grandma.” I lean in closer so she can see me. I’m wearing a mask, too, just in case, so I make sure she can see my eyes. “Rory.”
“Rory?” There’s a pause, and then her voice gets more confident. “Rory.”
“Are you feeling any better?”
“I’m not dying yet.” The snap is weak, but it’s there. I bite back a smile. Attitude is good.
This morning when Grandma woke up confused, it lingered longer and she cried. It scared the shit out of me. “We only have each other. I don’t want to leave you,” she’d said between tears.
Once I’d gotten her back to sleep, I’d cried too. My eyes are still puffy and it doesn’t help that I hear her voice telling me she doesn’t want to leave me every time I close them.
Grandma closes her eyes again. “What time is it?”
I check my watch, even though I don’t need to. “Five forty-five.”
“You should go,” she mumbles. “I can feel your boredom even when I’m asleep.”
God, the snark of this woman. I’m not that bad, am I?
“I’m fine.”
She cracks an eye open. “Alone is what you are. Don’t you have some handsome bartender to go visit?”
“It’s fine, Grandma.”
“I’m not going to die in the next few hours. Go take a break,” she insists.
“I’m fine.” I can out-stubborn her any day.
Grandma’s eyes snap open and she grabs the handles of the bed, trying to push herself up to sitting.
I jump to my feet and hover. “Grandma! Stop.”
“I will not.” She’s sitting up but she’s wheezing, and the beeps on the heart rate monitor are getting faster. “You’re going to go to that bar and by god you are going to flirt with that bartender until he asks you out for the umpteenth time and you’re going to say yes tonight or so help me god, I will die on you!”
“Grandma,” I scold, appalled. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”
“What, threaten you with my death? Buckle up, missy. I’m driving this bus.”
“I know you believe in God,” I huff. “And I know he’s going to smite you after that speech.”
“He smote me . . . long ago.” Grandma breathes hard for a few moments. “Now are you . . . going or not?”
“Arghhhh!” I run a hand through my hair, which is loose around my shoulders since I washed it last night and haven’t ridden my bike today. “You are infuriating.” I point a finger at her. “Fine. I’m going.”
“Ha,” she says, and then collapses back into the bed.
“If you die while I’m gone, I’m cremating you,” I threaten. “And the service will be in the gymnasium instead of the chapel. I’ll tell them that was your last wish.”
“Eh,” she says. Her heart rate is getting back to normal and her breathing is easier. “No one’s coming to my service anyway.”
It takes me some time to get her settled back down and I procrastinate until I’m pretty sure Grandma fakes being asleep.
I step out into the hallway and one of the nurses at the station looks up and smiles.
“How’s she doing?”
