The place she calls a hellhole is nicer than anywhere I’ve lived and costs thousands of dollars a month. The reason she can’t live at home is that she nearly burned the place down, but she doesn’t remember that.
Reminding myself this is her anger talking, and she’s dealing with an unimaginably difficult illness, I round the table and take a seat across from her. “I’m glad you’re trying the puzzles. Dr. Chen said this would be really good for you.”
“Don’t act like you care.” She tries a piece that doesn’t fit and tosses it in frustration, looking up at me with narrowed eyes. “You probably look like him, with that awful curly hair and those freckles on your brown skin. Ifigured you’d be like him and take off when life is inconvenient for you, like you did when you were eighteen.”
Whenever she talks about my father, it’s always to point out how I’m like him and not like her or my mother. All my life, I straightened my hair to look more like them, even though I’ve always liked my curls. I covered up my freckles with makeup, even though I always thought they were cute. I avoided being in the sun because my skin is already so much darker than theirs. Every part of me I love, I tried to hide so I could look more like Gran, more like my mom, more like I belonged in this twisted family.
I remain quiet because I know there’s no point in arguing with her. I know I’ll never win this battle, or any other. I also know that if I do, she’ll only make it worse.
With hard eyes still on me, she raises her voice. “I don’t want you here. No one in this town wants you. No one in this town has ever wanted you.” I open my mouth to speak, but she keeps going, “I’m going to tell the nurses not to let you back in here. Go, Alice. I’d rather die alone in this place than to have to look at the person who ruined my life for another second.”
“Gran, I?—”
“Get out!” she yells. “Get out of here. Leave!” Two nurses appear at the door upon hearing the screaming, and I stand, nodding at them to let them know I’m leaving. One of them stays with Gran while the other follows me out.
“I’m sorry. She had been doing great today.” Melissa, the nurse I normally speak to, places a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“It’s fine. She’s never liked me, so this is… normal. Minus the screaming.” I push my emotions as far down as I can, taking a deep breath before facing her. “Do you think she meant it about not letting me back here?”
Melissa sighs, shaking her head. “No. You’re her only family, so of course you can still come. Honestly, Alice, I’ve seen family members stop visiting their relatives for far less than what you’ve endured during your visits.”
I know what she’s saying, but when I left at eighteen, I was leaving my grandmother to enjoy her life. I was giving her what she wanted. Now, I’m all she has, and she’s my only known living relative. It’s not as easy to turn my back, even if some days I wish I could.
After getting confirmation that Gran had calmed down and was going to bed early, I walked to my Jeep as pain shot from my neck to my shoulders and back up to my temples.
I’ve grown so used to the pain that occasionally it takes a minute to even notice it’s there.
I wonder, sometimes, if I’ll ever have a day where my head doesn’t hurt, a day where my heart doesn’t hurt this much. I wonder if it’s possible to experience joy without also experiencing pain.
TWENTY-FIVE
now my dick is officially inviting himself to join this conversation
Arthur
After a quick shower, Alice left to see her grandmother. All I wanted to do was go with her, at least for emotional support, but of course, she insisted she’d be okay. I’ve busied myself with things around the house and prepping meals for the week. I even called Beau to give him a life update because though it feels like Alice and I should have been together from the day we met, this is still a pretty major life event.
As I’m packing up a salad, the front door opens and Alice scurries to the stairs. “Goldie?” I call out to her, but she doesn’t answer. She’s shuffling something around upstairs, so I drop what I’m doing to check on her. I find her in the bathroom, cleaning the toilet. “Everything okay?” I ask from the doorway as she finishes wiping everything down, then heads to the sink to wash her hands.
She sways a little, and when I catch her reflection in the mirror, she’s as pale as a sheet. I move quickly, standing behind her as she scrubs her hands.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” She barely gets the words out before she’s sucking in a deep breath and wiping her wet hands down her face. Her hair is already up in a messy bun.
“So why are you cleaning the toilet? Come here.” I pick her up, setting her on the countertop, then look for a towel to soak in some cold water.
She leans back, taking another deep breath. “I can’t throw up in a dirty toilet, so whenever I feel like I’m going to be sick, I clean it first.” I think back to the bar and the cleaning products next to her. “I’m not a germophobe or anything, but seriously, hugging a toilet that’s literally covered in… you know what? This isn’t helping.” She winces, placing a hand on her stomach.
“It’s okay, I get it. Have you taken anything yet?” I place the cool cloth on her forehead, and she sighs, shaking her head. “Need me to get anything for you?” Another small shake. I don’t want to jostle her too much, but she can’t be comfortable here, so I pick her up again and set her on the floor, getting myself into position behind her and pulling her into me until her head is resting on my shoulder.
We sit like that for a little while, and I move the cloth a few times. When I think she’s fallen asleep, her voice breaks through the silence in the bathroom where Luther has been watching us from the bathmat he’s curled up on.
“She knew who I was today. She asked me why I bothered coming back when there’s no one here who wants me. Then she said she’d tell the nurses not to bother letting me in anymore. Said she’d rather die alone than with the person who ruined her life.” Her quiet sniffle nearly breaks me. “I—I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m spending nearly every penny I have so she can be taken care of, because, even when she didn’t want to, she took me in.Because like me, she’s alone and doesn’t have anyone else.” With her voice breaking on those last two words, she turns into me, and I wrap her up in my arms. There’s nothing I can say to make this better for her, but I can be here. Iwillbe here.
I expect sobbing, or at least more tears, but she holds on tightly to me, her breathing even and steady. I massage her shoulder and neck gently, trying to relax her muscles.
Eventually, she sits up a little straighter, her watery eyes sad, but a small smile on her pretty lips. “Thank you,” she whispers before attempting to move away. I hold on to her and she doesn’t fight me.
“How about I get you into bed with a heating pad and some tea?” I brush a curl from her forehead, and she leans into my touch.
