When I look back on my life, I am extraordinarily grateful for two phone calls: the one you made when you were a teen, scared and confused for Bee, and the one you made five years ago as an adult, ready to take on more responsibility in your life.
I’ll keep my last request to you as simple as possible: Can you keep your courage close? Can yoube brave one last time? Your steadiness will bring out her strength.
I love you forever, to the smallest hive and back. Be careful with her, Honey.
Ee-bay rave-bay,
Mae
P.S. I can’t believe I literally have to die to nudge you and my granddaughter back together. Hell, you two and your walkie-talkie silence probably killed me faster than the cancer.
I choke out a laugh as fresh tears well in my eyes. God, it’s so Mae.
P.P.S. I know you’ll break immediately and offer her the opportunity to read this, you coward. Both of you need to work on your self-control. It’s a real problem.
Her voice is so strong, it’s as if I can almost hear the gravel in her tone as she reads the words to me. This letter feels like a farewell and a caress at the same time. It’s unexplainable how quickly a piece of paper can transform into something sacred. After one last brush of my fingers against the handwriting of a woman who always seemed unbreakable, I call out to Gracie, who is not so subtly observing me from a close distance. She said she’d give me privacy, but I know this woman too well.
“I know you’re spying.”
Gracie sheepishly steps out of her hiding spot behind the kitchen wall, shrugging as she meets me by the kitchen island. “You got me.”
“When did she…”
She straightens. “Two weeks ago.”
My stomach roils. I feel like I’m going to be sick. “How?”
“Breast cancer. Same as my mom. Mae and I found out last month, and by then it was, um, very aggressive, and too late for treatment.”
Confusion floods my mind as I try to sort out the timeline. I stand from my stool and start to pace around the kitchen. “Mae said she was fine when I talked with her a month ago. ‘Feeling her age,’ but doing fine. Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you got here?”
“Tell you as soon as I… You didn’t want to hear anything I had to say, Danny. I didn’t know what Mae wrote in the letter. And honestly? I just went through the loss of the only living relative I had left. I’m still processing everything, too.”
My chest caves in, saturated with sorrow. I loved Mae, but so did she.
“Shit. Sorry, Gracie. I hate that you’re hurting.” I stop pacing and direct my full attention to her. “You know how much I loved her, right?”
“I know.”
And just like all those years ago in our secret spot, I plead, “Tell me. Tell me everything.”
She leans against the kitchen island, facing me. “We received the news together, sitting across from the oncologist we’d met a grand total of one time. God, Danny. The conversation was so…polite.”
“Jesus. I’m so sorry. That must’ve been… I wish I was…”
Gracie forges on like she prepared for this exact conversation. “She was projected to live only days, but it ended up being longer.”
It doesn’t surprise me that Mae’s stubborn personality held out longer than expected.
Gracie’s tone becomes harsher, more biting. “Getting a front-row seat to Mae’s fight with cancer has given me some brutal insight into what she experienced with my mother. Cancer is insidious, but swift. It’s inspirational… yet cruel.”
I reach for her, trying to find comfort for both of us. But she pulls back.
“She was all I had left, and losing her devastated me. But you know what hurt the most over the last ten years? Until I lost Mae?” she asks, hands gripping the edge of the kitchen island.
My brain immediately runs wild with scenarios of what could’ve happened while I wasn’t in her life. A horrible thought occurs to me as I squeeze my eyes shut.
“With Mae and your mom, are you…sick, too?” Panic creeps up my back and infiltrates my mind.
