Page 115 of Last First Date

The room was quiet except for the sound of the steady heart monitor beeping in rhythm with my grandfather’s sleeping breaths. Warily, I slid out of the chair by his bedside and walked over to the window. The orange cliffs were bathed in the soft glow of dusk.

This couldn’t be it. I wasn’t ready to lose my grandfather. I started to think back to all the lost time.

I stayed in New York and would have continued to live there if he didn’t drag me back. I had been acting like a petulant child, pouting because I had to come home before I was ready. The whole time, my grandfather had been working his ass off. He’d been giving me the time to grow up and get my shit together at a cost to his health.

I clenched my fists, the reality of it all sinking in deep. The business my grandfather built wasn’t just a business. It was a testament to his hard work and dedication. It was proof of his perseverance.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I stood there alone, staring out at the view he loved so much. I wiped them away angrily. This wasn’t the time for self-pity. It was time for action, for assuming responsibility.

“Knox?”

I spun around and found my grandfather smiling.

“Hey,” I said, smiling back. “You’re up.”

“I’m home,” he said.

“Yep. Depending on how things go, we’ll have you back in the house in a week or so. I’m already getting the equipment we need.”

He tried to wave a hand. “No, no. I don’t want a hospital in the house. I’ll walk through the door of my house soon enough.”

His voice, once booming and filled with vigor, was now frail and raspy. Yet the fire in his eyes remained undimmed. It was the same fire that I had watched from afar, growing up, the same fire that had taken him to the top.

I nodded solemnly, finding words difficult to come by. The room seemed to close in on me as I stepped back toward him and sat down by his bed again. His hand reached out for mine and I took it into my own, feeling the veiny textures of his skin, the frailty of bones underneath.

“I’ll walk you in myself,” I said. “Grandma and Mom went home to change. They’ll be back soon.”

“You guys don’t need to camp out here. I’m not dying. This isn’t a deathwatch. I’ll be fine.”

I wanted to believe him, to take comfort in his certainty. Yet, I couldn’t quite shake off the feeling of dread that had taken root in my chest.

“Just resting up, getting my strength back,” he continued. His voice was steady, but I could see the effort it took him to breathe each word out.

“I know, Grandpa.” I squeezed his hand gently.

We sat in silence for a few moments longer. The gently thrumming heart monitor provided a steady rhythm that reminded me he was alive and well. It wasn’t long before my grandmother returned. She took over my seat and I finally went home after days of traveling.

I was bone tired.

49

WAVERLY

Iwas sitting at my desk when I heard the tidal wave of whispers getting louder. At first, I assumed they were talking shit about me again. Then Marcy looked at me with genuine sadness. If it was about me, clearly, the rumor mill had worked up a good one.

My heartrate quickened as Marcy approached me hesitantly. Her high-heeled boots clicked against the floor. It was clear something was wrong. My mind was spinning some wild ideas about what it might be.

“Marcy, what is it?” I asked. “Did I sleep with Carl from accounting? Or wait, the mail guy?”

She shook her head. “No. Nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

“Did you hear about Knox’s grandfather?” she asked.

A lump formed in my throat. With the looks on the faces of those around me and Marcy’s very serious expression, I knew whatever it was couldn’t be good. “No. What happened?”

“I’m sorry, Waverly,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Richard had a stroke.”