“Great,” I say softly, shyly, mortified as I feel Grams’s stare burn into the side of myface.
“I have a few rounds to make, but I'll be back in soon to check on you,Amelia.”
“Maybe you should just start calling me Grams,” she says with achuckle.
As Dr. Beck leaves, I shift around in the seat, directly facing Grams while kindly offering an evil eye. “I can’t believe you are using your heart to control my datinglife.”
“Oh, Emma, what better part of me to use? Plus, you'll thank me someday. I'll probably be dead, but you can visit my grave and pay your respectsthen.”
“You are cruel,” I tellher.
“No, I just know what I'm talking about,” she says with a devioussmirk.
“Oh yeah?” Itease.
“Keep reading, Emma. You'llsee.”
“Grams, this—” I place my hand down on the diary's cover. “It’s a lot to take in.” Watching her mother die in front of her eyes, then carrying on alone…I can't fathom a world where that took place. I'm not sure I could have kept going; yet all these years later, here she is, making jokes withme.
“It's a lot to try and forget too,” shesays.
“Is that why you have never sharedthis?”
“It's one of the reasons, yes,” she says with confidence while taking the book from myhands.
She flips open the cover and turns to the second page before returning it to my hands, then nestles her head back into thepillow.
Grams has always been good at one thing—distracting me. Just a minute ago, I was arguing with her about refusing the surgery, and now I'm staring at her scripted words written on aged paper, nervous about what I might learnnext.
“Well then, come on,” she says, waving her hands at the book. “I want you to get to the goodparts.”
The good parts? Of the Holocaust? I stare at her with a blank expression, unsure how to respond, but she doesn't appear to be seeking a response as she keeps her focus zoned in on the openpages.
I can only chalk her irrational behavior up to her medicalcondition.
