“Why did you let her back in, Beau? Aren’t people like that exactly what you avoid here?” I brace both arms on the bar as Beau crosses his.
“Arthur, it wasn’t like that, she?—”
“I don’t care, man. I don’twantto know. The less I know about her, the better. You and I both know it’s a terrible idea for me to get involved with someone who can’thandle their shit. They certainly won’t want to handle mine, too.” My own words land like a boulder in my gut, heavy and unwelcome. It’s a truth I don’t want to admit, but I have to.
“If you would listen to me for a second?—”
“Not interested,” I interrupt again. “Seriously, Beau, let me drink this shitty cup of coffee alone, please.”
He huffs out a frustrated breath, mumbling something as he walks away to leave me alone for the evening. Just the way I like it, right?
EIGHT
going to go live with the creepy dolls
Alice
I guess this is what I get for having high hopes for today.
Instead of sitting alone to wallow after one of my toughest visits with Gran yet, I went to the place that brought me a bit of comfort one week ago. It was a long shot, but I figured the day definitely couldn’t get worse.
I was wrong.
I ordered a soda water and chatted easily with Beau, hoping the dim lights would make my bloodshot eyes less obvious. These headaches act a lot like migraines sometimes, making my vision blurry and my stomach upset.
Despite the pleasant conversation, I kept waiting for Arthur to show up.
And show up he did.
He looked disgusted, standing there staring down at me.
Reining in all of the emotions warring inside me, I wished him a nice life with shaky hands, then I walked out.When I got into my Jeep, I took a naproxen to help with the now-throbbing pain in my head, though I have a feeling it’ll do no good given the tightness running from my nape all the way down to my shoulders.
When I get to the farmhouse, there’s a light on inside but no car in the driveway. The rambunctious dog is back in his room, and I don’t dare let him out.
I manage to hold back the tears until the blissfully hot water of the shower hits my skin, carefully avoiding my hair, which is wrapped in a shower cap. Then I let it all out while I massage my neck and shoulders. My head was already pounding, so it’s not like crying will make it any worse.
The visit with Gran replays in my mind as I let the hot water soothe my muscles.
“Hello,”she says timidly. It makes me want to cry, because timid is not a word I’d ever have used to describe my grandmother. Fierce, harsh, brutally honest, yes. Not timid.
“Hi,” I say back, though I have already spoken to her three times in the hour I’ve been here. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure,” she responds. “I don’t think I’ve been out today.”
“Oh, well, would you like to go? I can go for a walk with you. The heat from earlier has died down a bit.” I’m hopeful a change of scenery will jog her memory, and maybe she’ll remember me today. Though I’m never sure if that will be a good thing or a bad thing. Sometimes it’s easier when she doesn’t know who I am. She’s this docile, sweet lady when she thinks I’m a stranger, but downright cruel when she recognizes me.
She doesn’t say anything.
“Margaret?” I try again, and again, no response.
After a few minutes of silence, I stand, moving into her line ofsight. Her focus has been on whatever is happening outside the window: nothing, because all she can see is a patch of grass.
“Would you like to go for a walk, Gran?” I hold my breath, wondering if using the name will jog her memory or upset her. I even straightened my hair, hoping she would either recognize me or think I was Mom, but neither of those things has happened.
“Dear, you seem like a nice girl and all,” she starts in a gentle voice I rarely heard from her when she was my guardian, “but I don’t feel much like making small talk with a stranger today, so if you could leave now, that would be best.”
With my head low, I do as she asks, saying goodbye to the lovely nurses on my way out.
