“Sorry about the noise,” I said. “My friends threw me a birthday party and it’s starting to get a little rowdy. If I’d known you were going to call, I’d have gone up to the roof where I could hear you better. But if I start breaking up, tell me and I’ll…”
“Jennifer!” she interrupted me. “Listen to me, OK? I’m sorry. You can’t imagine how hard it is for me to tell you this, especially on a day like today, but…it’s Grandma, honey. She died.”
Those words seemed to float before me in the air as I stared at the wall in front of me. I’d have thought the joy would have drained out of me and sadness would have taken its place. But no, I didn’t feel anything. I heard my heartbeat slowing down until my pulse seemed to fade away entirely.
“It was quick,” she added. Her voice sounded as if it were coming from another galaxy. “It happened just a couple of hours ago. She said she wasn’t feeling well, and Shannon and Spencer took her to the hospital. But there was nothing they could do. She didn’t suffer. And she wasn’t alone. They both were with her until the end. We’ll buy you a ticket so you can comeand say goodbye. Your dad can pick you up from the airport. We’ll all be together, as a family. Does that sound good?”
Finally, after being frozen for several minutes, I managed to nod and say OK.
11
An Empty Home
Things at home were bad. Mom wouldn’t stop crying. Dad tried to console her, but it was no use. The twins were fighting, Owen kept calling for his great-grandma, and my sister kept telling him she was gone, that now she was a star up in the sky. Spencer was trying to be the head of the family and bring some order to the house. And I was helping out as best I could.
In most families, people have set roles. The oldest child takes care of some things, the middle children have their duties, then there are other things left for the little ones. But when a tragedy strikes, all that goes by the wayside. I found myself running back and forth, doing everything in my power to make everyone feel better. And that meant that I never had time to cry or let someone else console me. Everyone was so upset, it hadn’t even crossed my mind that I had that right.
That was how I started talking with my family again. Spencer, Dad, and I were the only ones who could hold them all together. The twins were too immature and self-centered, and it was all I could do to get them to make peace for a moment. Mom would gather her strength for a moment, come over and thank me for all I was doing, then break down again, and Dad would hurry over to dry her tears.
The funeral was more of the same: I cheered up this person, greetedthat one, tried to keep everything running smoothly. We had a reception at home afterward, and Mom went up to her room because she couldn’t deal with anything anymore. Shannon tried to get her kid to quit crying, the twins argued, Spencer sat in the corner ruminating. I hated to see him suffering, but there was nothing I could do.
People came over to clap me on the back and try to comfort me. Others talked about how wonderful Grandma was, how strong she’d been despite her age. I hated it. I hated it because I knew they didn’t know her the way I did. Seeing her in the coffin, she hadn’t looked strong at all. She was a tiny, ancient woman. I’d taken her hand in mine. It was fragile and cold. Mom had cried when she’d seen her. For me, the tears wouldn’t flow. In some corner of my mind, I must have believed everything would turn back to normal all of a sudden, as if I’d awakened from a bad dream.
Unbelievably, Mom and Dad had invited Monty’s parents. I refused to speak a word to them. But still. They came over and played sympathetic, just like all the other people who had called me a liar behind my back and complained that I’d gotten Monty in trouble and then run away when things turned ugly. Honestly, it didn’t even get to me. Not that day. I just kept telling myself that no matter how I felt about them, these people had shown up for Grandma.
Dad came up to me at some point and said, “Jenny, why don’t you get a little rest? Let me handle things for a while.”
I nodded and thought about going upstairs but decided at the last minute that the back porch was a better place to be. It was February, and there was a thin carpet of snow glowing on the grass. I sat down on the bottom step. The cold afternoon air felt good. It cleared my head. I stayed out there a while just breathing and relaxing. But then I heard someone.
I thought it would be Mom, but it was my former best friend Nelle, the one who had stopped talking to me and then hooked up with Monty.I had seen her once or twice because the gas station I used to work at was by her house, but we hadn’t talked, and I preferred to keep it that way. Our friendship was over to me. There was nothing to go back to, and I just assumed she felt the same way.
Nelle was pretty. She always had been. Her hair was light brown, almost straw-colored, and she had big brown eyes and good taste in clothes. She stood out, and she liked to. That need for attention was one of her weaknesses. So I was surprised to see her in a black sweater and baggy black pants instead of some skimpy, low-cut dress.
I didn’t say anything. I could guess who had told her she needed to dress discreetly. I could even hear Monty’s voice in my head saying,Nelle, you look like a damn whore. I hated that word. He had used it with me, too. I wondered then what Nelle felt like when she heard it.
She must have read my mind, because she growled, “I’m dressed this way because I feel like it.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I responded.
“You didn’t need to.”
I looked away. “Nelle, this isn’t the day.”
But she didn’t care, and she didn’t ask permission to come down and sit on the same step with me. I could feel her eyes on me, I could sense the tension in her, but she took a long time to talk. It was sad that after ten years of friendship, there was so much distance between us that even in a moment like that, we couldn’t be kind to each other.
“I’m sorry about your grandmother,” she finally said. “I mean… I know you loved her a lot. I won’t pretend I understand what you’re feeling, because I’d be lying. I’ve never lost someone who mattered to me like that. But, you know…if you need anything…”
They weren’t the most touching words of consolation, and I had the feeling they weren’t especially honest, either. I’m sure she felt bad or whatever, but the idea that I could turn to her in my moments of need wasbeyond laughable. Our friendship had never felt like it was entirely on solid ground. I’d always had the feeling one wrong step could shatter it.
But the tables had turned now, and she was the one who had screwed up. She was nobody to me anymore, not a friend, just another guest. Maybe she’d known my grandmother, but she wasn’t mourning her, she had no idea how amazing Grandma had been. And somehow, I had the sense she was trying to make herself feel better, not me. Like she wanted to tell herself:I did it, I said my condolences, I showed what a good person I am, now my job here is done. That angered me, but I didn’t bother telling her. I just pulled my knees under my chin and said, “Thanks,” hoping she’d get the message.
Unfortunately, Nelle was too self-centered for that. “Are you mad at me?” she asked.
“Nelle, seriously…let’s do this another time.”
“When? Because you don’t even live here anymore.”
“You’re right,” I said, almost accusingly. “You could pick up the phone, though.”
