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It made me smile. A little.

When I came back up, Grandma was where she always was, in the hospital bed in the middle of the living room, surrounded by flowers and draped in a colorful afghan, laughing loudly with Jillian, who was telling some dramatic story. Mom was clinking dishes in the tiny kitchen. Grandma’s sister, my great-aunt Lucy, was standing on a stool by the window, hanging crystals.

This was a good place to die. It had good energy.

Everything around my grandmother always did.

She didn’t like the sterilized hospital thing or any reminder of what was actually happening here. She’d made me drape a floral scarf over the IV stand, and I wasn’t allowed to wear scrubs. Not for this assignment. She liked things pretty and soft and comfortable. Food cooking in the kitchen, people around her. So that’s what we gave her. I wore my regular clothes. Blousy tops and flowy skirts. Jillian brought candles she’d made and Nadia Cakes cupcakes, Mom simmered pasta sauce, and we watched Grandma slowly decline.

“I’m back,” I said, clicking the door shut behind me.

Lucy pointed at the crystals. “How about this?” she said, louder than necessary. Her hearing aids were off again. “Is this in the right spot?”

Grandma turned to look. “We won’t know until the sun’s on that side.”

“WHAT?”

“I said, we won’t know until the sun’s on that side,” Grandma said, louder. “For Pete’s sake, turn your hearing aids on.”

Lucy climbed down. “I can’t hear a thing you’re saying. We probably won’t know until the sun’s on that side.”

I laughed to myself as I came over to the bed and lowered the rail. “How’s your pain?”

“Good,” Grandma said.

I arched an eyebrow. “Are you just saying that?” I asked, taking her pulse. “I know you don’t like the way the morphine feels. We can do something else.”

She waved me off with her free hand. “I’m fine.”

There was a thump against the wall from the neighboring apartment, followed by the sound of a power tool.

“What are they doing over there?” Mom asked.

“New tenants,” Grandma said. “Probably fixing it up.”

“Well, I wish they’d be quieter about it,” Mom said, wiping the counters down.

I checked Grandma’s catheter bag. Then I pulled out my stethoscope and listened to her chest. I didn’t like what I heard. I never would.

I wrapped my stethoscope around my neck, trying to keep my feelings about this off my face. “Something funny happened a couple of days ago,” I said.

Grandma perked up. “Oh?”

“Someone left a love note on my car.”

“It wasn’t from Jeb, was it?” Mom said.

“No, it was for someone else. Very anticlimactic. But it had a sex coupon in it,” I said, amused.

“I hope you kept it,” Jillian said. “You need it.”

I scoffed. “Thanks.”

“You know where you need to go?” Jillian said.

“Where?” I asked, checking Grandma’s ankles. She had some edema. This was new.

“Home Depot,” Jillian said.