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“Do you want me to drive you to the airport?” I go to the couch and retrieve her bra and her dress, and I help her put them both on. Her hands are shaking too bad to button it, so I do it for her after she puts her bra on.
She snorts. “Grandma isn’t going to get on a plane. She says if God wanted us to fly, he’d have given us wings. I’m going to have to drive her.” She looks down at her watch. “I’m going to have to drive her there tonight. She wants to be there by tomorrow.”
“You want some company?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“I can help you drive.” I shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“It’s not like we’ll be gone for weeks, is it?”
“A couple of days at most.” Her eyes meet mine. “Want to go to Florida with me?”
“Sure.” I would probably go even if she hadn’t asked me so sweetly. “I’m sorry about your aunt,” I say.
She blinks back tears. “Me too.”
She steps into her shoes, makes sure the lights are out, and we go to Ms. Markie’s house. Ms. Markie is packing a suitcase when we get there. “Grady’s going so he can help drive,” Evie announces.
Ms. Markie gives me a tear-filled smile. “You’re a good boy, Grady Parker,” she says quietly. I kiss her forehead, and she blinks back the grief I know she’s feeling. “My daughter died,” she says, and her voice cracks.
“Come on, Grandma,” Evie says, and she motions for her to follow. “I’ll help you pack.”
I let myself out, run home to pack a small bag, and get back to find Evie loading luggage into the trunk. “Thank you, Grady,” she says.
Ms. Markie bustles out of the house, the pillow from her bed and a blanket clutched in her arms, and she gets in the back seat of her car. “I can sit back there, Ms. Markie,” I rush to say.
“I like the back,” she says as she closes the door.
“I’m really sorry about all this, Grady,” Evie says.
I’m not. I’m not sorry at all, except for the grief they’re not even fully feeling yet. That part makes me sad. The rest of it…well, that’s life, and I am signing up for all of it.
27
Evie
Grady reaches over and brushes my hair back from my face. The Florida sky is painted in front of me like a pillow of soft oranges and pinks. “You still with me?” Grady asks.
I nod and reach for my last sip of coffee. “I’m about out of gas,” I say, and I cover a yawn with my hand.
“There’s a gas station a few miles up,” Grady says as he points to a billboard.
“No, I mean that I’m about out of gas. I feel like I’m going to drop.” I yawn again, but I don’t bother trying to cover it.
Grady and I have been switching from the driver’s seat to the passenger’s seat about every two hours. We’d stop, use the bathroom, get coffee and snacks, and trade positions. Grady hasn’t slept, though, and neither have I.
“Pull over,” he says. “I’ll take a turn.”
“You just switched with me ten minutes ago,” I remind him. “No.”
“I’m not as tired as you,” he says. “I can drive some more.”
I reach for his hand. “Thanks for coming with us,” I say. “You’re a life saver.”
“You should know by now that I’d do just about anything for you,” he replies softly.
