“How’s your grandma?” she asks.
I exhale a ragged breath and try to fight back the pain.
My mother overdosed when I was only three, and Gran stepped in to raise me. We never did have much, but we had what we needed. And I had her.
“It’s rough.”
Casey’s eyes fill with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m here until she passes. I tried to bring her to California, but she wouldn’t have none of that.”
“I imagine she wouldn’t.”
The silence between us is deafening, and I know I should leave. But I can’t. For the first time in a long time, I crave conversation.
To say I’m a hermit is an understatement. I barely give interviews and have no friends. How can I trust anyone after how much of me has been sold?
“Your house is nice,” she says. “I pass by it every now and then.”
I give her a tight smile. I purchased the house shortly after I ‘made it,’ as one might say. I moved Gran from our tiny apartment into a six-thousand-square-foot home that she could call her own. I would have moved her out to Hollywood with me, but she refused.
“Well, it was nice catching up with you,” I finally say.
“Yeah, it was great.”
I turn to leave, my heart weighing heavily in my chest. I wish I knew how to talk to her, but after all this time, I’ve become socially inept.
Just think of something to say—anything! Ask her if there are any new places to eat orsomething dumb.
I turn back to face her. “Ummm…Casey…”
“Yeah?”
“I had to let go of the handyman. Do you know anyone that is available for the summer?”
Her face brightens. “Actually, my brother could use the extra work. He coaches during the school year and picks up odd jobs in the summer.”
I travel back in time, recalling Casey’s older brother Jake. He was the captain of the football team, graduating four years before us. I used to watch him train, but he never did notice me much.
“Here, I’ll give you his number!”
She scribbles Jake’s information down and hands it to me.
I force a smile. “Thanks.”
“Good luck with your granny,” she returns. “It really was nice seeing you again.”
“Same.”
On the way to my car, I curse myself for being a bad conversationalist. At least I have one problem solved, though.
When I came back to Nebraska, I found out the groundskeeper was swiping Gran’s meds and had been doing so for a while. Because she didn’t want to get him in trouble, she never told anybody and chose to suffer in silence.
About five feet from my car, I hear a voice call out.
“Funny seeing you here.”
I turn and see a familiar face, though it’s noticeably aged over my years I’ve been away.
