“Maybe,” she agreed. “But you still need to have the hard conversations with actual people to find out if that theory is true or not.”
“Ugh. I would rather not.”
“Listen,” Grandma said. “I’m sorry again about the list. I would never do anything intentionally to hurt you.”
“I know. It’s okay,” I said, as I had the first few times she’d apologized. Her remorse was real, but I could see her beginning to lose patience with me.
“But I’ve been thinking. Is it so bad that it got leaked?” she asked. “Not that I’m trying to make myself feel better or anything.” She cocked a hip, resting her foot up on her thigh, in a casual yoga stance. “But like ... did you die?”
“No,” I admitted on a sharp sigh. I thought of Pace because, of course, I did.
“I noticed you didn’t take it down yet.”
“I figured that would look weak. And it’s already out there. The worst has happened, and you’re right. I’m still here.” I shrugged.
“I know you don’t think that I understand what it’s like to be trapped in your own brain. But I do. Trust me.” She cleared her throat, and I realized she was nervous. She was working herself up to share. Grandma El was not one to talk a lot about her past. “I was with your grandpa for over forty years,forty,” she said, avoiding my gaze. “Most every morning, I would wake up and think, today I will leave him. I deserve more than this. And then every evening I went to bed berating myself for my cowardice and weakness. I was trapped in a miserable marriage as much as in my own head.”
“Oh, Grandma, I’m so sorry.” I squeezed her hand, and my heart ached with the need to take all her pain away. She was such a large, confident role model in my life. It felt impossible to imagine a time when she wasn’t like that.
“I didn’t know what I was capable of until he passed away,” she said. “It’s so scary to be stuck by our own making. So, I understand, at least a little.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry,” I repeated.
“Don’t be. I’m happier than ever. But my point is, you’re probably capable of more than you know. I heard about the night of that fire. How you ran around looking for Pace. When you care about someone, you always pull through.”
“I’ve learned so much about myself. It’s amazing, but I guess?—”
I felt my throat tighten, and I scrunched my nose as tears threatened.
“I feel like such a burden to you. I feel like I am this fine china that needs to be handled with special gloves because I might shatter at any moment. I’m tired all the time; it’s impossible for me to imagine that anybody would choose to be with me. Would want that.”
My chin quivered.
“You are not a burden,” Grandma said so harshly that I looked up to meet her gaze, my vision blurring with tears. “Every moment you have been in my life has been a gift.”
“Thank you,” I said, sniffling.
“I hear your thoughts, child. I hear you thinking it’s only because we are family that I feel that.”
I shrugged, looking to the ceiling, biting my cheek, and willing these tears to go away.
“The pain you went through with Grandpa, then losing your son so young, and having to raise me. That’s real pain, and now you’re stuck with this grown adult who can’t leave the house half the time.” I couldn’t help the way my voice cracked. All these years of therapy, and that little voice in my head still hurts me.
“You’re being so hard on yourself. Your pain is just as real as any. And I don’t ever feel like you are a burden or an obligation.You bring me so much, unending amounts of joy. You always have. We just had to figure out the best way to communicate with each other, with a fifty-year age difference.”
I snorted a laugh, thinking of the time in middle school when we got into a huge fight because she brought that hideous puffy coat to school, knowing full well I had purposely forgotten it at home.
“I want to be able to take care of you as you get older,” I told her.
“And I have no doubt that you will. You’ve proven what you are capable of. When push comes to shove, you’ll be who people need.”
“You think so?” I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear that I could look outside myself, be able to help others, that I wouldn’t always be a burden. That I could help carry the load too.
“I know so.” She patted my cheek. “And don’t act like I’m not full of my own issues. Like I’m some saint.” She clicked her tongue and gestured to the shop around us. “I know I can’t keep this place clean to save my life. I rely on you so much for all that numbers stuff I don’t want to fuss with. I know that I’m flighty and will never figure out social media even if my life depended on it. And I probably keep myself a little too active sometimes to prove something to my past self.” She waved off her confession. “We are all complex, hurt humans who are just trying to survive. And sometimes we find the right people to balance us out because it all feels so much easier when you share the load. When you’re leaning on each other, neither takes the brunt of the weight, you know?” She shook her head, her dry hands squeezing mine so hard they shook. “Grandpa never shared the load. He expected me to carry it all. But you and I, we are a team. And we play to our strengths around here.”
Her voice cracked, and I pulled her in for a squeeze. We broke apart and quickly wiped under our eyes.
“And these relationships are possible with other people too. Outside our little family unit. Crucial, even. I have it with my group of gals. We are there for each other, we look out for each other, and need each other in different ways. Just like you’ll need a partner for things outside of me and this place. But your Pace, the way he looks at you and takes care of you.” She smiled softly, as if to say, what a man. “That’s a man who will hold your burdens, just to be near you.”
