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Gram went quiet again. Though this time, it allowed me to pick up the background noise on her end. It sounded like some sort of an announcement, like maybe at the airport.
“Where are you?”
“Just in my hotel room.”
“In your room? What was that announcement?”
“Oh, it must be the television.”
Why did I feel like she was full of shit?
“I gotta get going, honey,” Gram said.
“What’s the rush if you’re just sitting around in your room?”
“I need my beauty sleep.”
I couldn’t shake the feeling something was going on. But I knew my grandmother. If I pushed, she’d hang up on me.
“Will you do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Text me tomorrow morning and let me know that you and Nora are both feeling okay.”
“Don’t worry about us. We’re fine, dear.”
“Will you do it for me, please?”
She sighed. “Of course. Goodnight, Beck.”
After I hung up, I finished off the whiskey in my glass and poured a second. I felt restless and hoped it would help me relax. But it didn’t.
I tossed and turned all night and checked my phone a dozen times the next day. Gram never sent the text like she was supposed to. By dinner time, I’d lost my patience, so I shot a text to Nora first.
Beck: Hey. Gram said you weren’t feeling well yesterday. Just checking in to see if things are better today?
I stared at my screen, waiting for the message to change from Sent to Delivered. But it never did.What the fuck?How sick can someone be from too much wine that they can’t even charge their phone for two days? Rather than play any more games, I scrolled to Gram’s contact and hit Call. It rang twice and went to voicemail, which meant my grandmother had sent me there, because if she was just not near her phone it would’ve rang a few more times. And if her phone was off, it would have gone directly to voicemail.
I growled at the phone before tossing it on the counter. Unfortunately, I hadn’t noticed my daughter coming down the hall.
“What’s the matter, Daddy?”
“Nothing, sweetheart.”
She made a face that looked exactly like the one her mother made when she was calling bullshit. It made me smile. I lifted Maddie off the floor and flipped her upside down.
She giggled. “Daddy, what are you doing?”
“Trying to turn your frown to a smile.” I shook her a few times, as if gravity could make the corners of her lips turn the opposite direction. And it worked, because my daughter was smiling when I set her on her feet.
“What do you want to eat for dinner?” I asked. We always ordered in on Saturday nights.
She jumped up and down. “Sushi and an açai bowl.”
I chuckled. When I was little, McDonald’s was a treat. These kids were something else.
“You want the same thing you ordered last time?”
