“Mark didn’t tell me,” I said, as though we were discussing a dinner reservation, not the thing that would ultimately take my grandmother’s life.
She squeezed my hand. “Well, darling, I asked him not to, of course.”
“Of course.”
I wondered what this meant, if it was one of Grammy’s subtler signals. I couldn’t imagine that she would ask for something so huge from someone she didn’t trust and love, from someone she didn’t want to be a part of her family. And I couldn’t imagine that a man who would do all this for me, take a risk this big, wouldn’t be the one for me.
Then I had another thought entirely.
I wasn’t religious like Sloane, but in my mind, there were still a few guaranteed tickets to hell, and I was pretty sure that murder was one of them. “Gram,” I said slowly, “I can’t kill you. I can’t have that black mark on my soul.”
She nodded. “But you aren’t murdering me,” she said. “I’maskingyou to do it. I’m asking you to help ease my way and put me out of pure misery. I’m asking you not to let me live when I don’t know who my girls are, not to make me be one of those moaning women in so much pain she can’t speak. That’s not murder. That’s mercy.”
She had this look of pure determination, and truth be told, I knew I would do it the moment I saw how serious she was. In some ways, this would be one of the defining moments of my life, one of the things that would make me who I was, prove to me how strong I was, prepare me for the months to come.
“But you can’t commit suicide,” I said.
She smiled again. “It’s not suicide if you give me the pills.”
She couldn’t possibly believe this. “Grammy, come on.”
“Don’t you see?” she said. “It’s a loophole.”
I laughed incredulously. “Grammy, I don’t think God has loopholes.”
Then she said something that would always remain with me: “Honey, we’d better hope that God has loopholes. Otherwise, we’re all toast.”
I wasn’t sure what sat heavier on my heart, those words or those pills. But I slipped them into my pocket.
My mom, sisters, and uncles all marveled that my grandmother was so strong-willed she was able to fade off before things got really bad, disappear into the great unknown before she totally lost her mind, something that, with her brain metastasis, was almost guaranteed to happen.
If they had been paying attention, though, they would have noticed the way Grammy hugged me extra-long that night, after she had told us that she needed to sleep on the porch, that she needed to be alone with the wind and the sea and the stars. They would have seen how she whispered, “It’s time, darling,” in my ear. They would have seen me sneak onto the porch in the early hours of the morning to give my grandmother what she wanted.
Mom said it was OK that Grammy died alone, that she wouldn’t have wanted us all there. But I was with her, holding her hand when she took her very last breath. I was the first one to cry over her.
Her last words on this earth had been, “The greatest blessing in my world has been this extraordinary family. Don’t cry, darling. You are all going to be just fine.”
When I confessed all this to Uncle Scott, when it all came pouring out after having been locked inside so tight for so long, I had never seen him that shocked or tongue-tied.
But then he did the strangest thing: he laughed.
“Um,” I said, “that’s not really a funny story.”
He shook his head. “No, of course it isn’t. It isn’t funny at all. It’s just that I’m so relieved.”
Now I was really confused.
He cleared his throat and composed himself. “My mother was the most headstrong, resilient person I have ever met. She had the highest standards for herself and everyone around her. I’m relieved that her death was on her terms.” He paused and looked me in the eye. “And, Em, I can’t help but think that she knew this would help you see how strong you were, too.”
It bolstered me when he said that. He wasn’t mad. He didn’t hate or condemn me for stealing what few precious extra days he might have gained with his mother.
“You did the right thing, Emerson. We all have the right to live life as we choose. That was her choice. You only helped her carry it out.” Then he squeezed my hand and smiled supportively. “Mom was right, Em. Everything is going to be fine.”
Today, in New York, I could only hope that Grammy’s words held true, that as I went to meet my fate at Dr. Thomas’s office, everything would be fine now, too.
I would have been an absolute mess about my appointment that day, but fortunately, Caroline always knew how to distract me. We spent the morning browsing in new boutiques in SoHo. She loved one of them so much that she took a selfie of us trying on dresses and posted it on her Instagram.
“I thought you only posted for people who paid you tons of money now,” I said.
