The doctor shifted in his seat. Sat back. Cleared his throat. He didn’t seem upset, the way Stewie had feared he might.
“All right. I’m going to try a different way of explaining it to you. Imagine you’re in the woods and you’re completely lost. You’ve been wandering around and around for ages. And you really have no idea which way is out, so you could wander almost indefinitely and still not be found again. Now let’s say I come along and give you a compass and a map of the woods. Would you look at me and say, ‘Dr. Briggs, this is useless to me because I’m still in the woods?’ Or would you see that you’d been given the tools to begin to solve your problem and that you’re better off for that? Yes, you’re still in the woods, but you’re no longer hopelessly lost. Does that make sense to you, Stewie?”
Stewie sat for a long time, thinking. Or possibly not thinking. Maybe he was only letting the doctor’s words settle in, and feeling his way around in them as they settled. He had every intention of giving Dr. Briggs an answer that was both honest and well thought through.
“You know,” he said after a time, “I think it does make sense. When you explain it like that, I really do think I get it.”
“Good,” Dr. Briggs said. “Then our work together has begun in earnest.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Better Side of Fair
Stewie
Stewie waited a full week to go back to Eastbridge, because he no longer had a grandmother there, and maybe he wasn’t welcome for a visit until his Sunday egg delivery.
Or, at least, that was the story he told himself.
But during the week, people from Eastbridge called.
He never actually spoke to them. He would be at school, or out with the hens, or taking a bath. Later he would see a note on Stacey’s little yellow pad by the phone. It was filling up fast with names and short messages.
“Joni called, and hopes you’ll still come visit. Louise said to say she’s thinking about you and hopes you’re considering her offer. Mrs. Wilson sends her condolences and hopes to see you soon.”
And then, the one that blew his cover story completely.
“Marjorie says all the residents just love the new eggs, and she hopes you won’t wait till egg delivery day to come see everyone.”
That was the one that forced his hand, and made him realize he’d only been making excuses, and that the actual truth was simply that it would be very hard on him, emotionally, to go.
Still, egg day was coming up fast, and on egg day he knew he would have no choice. He was their egg supplier now. He had accepted that responsibility, it was not one to be taken lightly, and there was no part of Stewie that would consider letting them down.
The first person he saw was Joni, and he heard her before he saw her.
He had come in through the back way, just because it was a shorter route and the eggs were getting heavy. At least, he told himself that was why.
As he walked down the hall toward the reception area, he heard her lyrical accent.
“Hello, Stewie,” it said.
He stopped. Turned around.
“Oh, hi, Joni.”
“We thought maybe you didn’t want to come visit us anymore.”
“No, I do. Well. I do and I don’t. I mean . . . I like you guys and all . . .” The eggs were simply too much of a burden, so he set the big packing carton down on the linoleum at his feet. “It’s just hard. Now that . . . you know.”
“Yes, I do know,” she said. “We all know. We all understand your loss. But it’s good to see you.”
“Thank you.”
“I was just thinking . . .”
“Yes?”
“If you’re fresh out of grandmothers . . . well, it’s only a crazy idea, but hear me out, please. I have two children. I have a son who is gay and a daughter who has no interest at all in having children of her own. I always wanted to be a grandmother, and now it’s looking like maybe I never will be.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe your son’ll get married to another man and they’ll adopt. That happens.”
“Yes,” she said. “It happens. But I don’t think it happens to my son. He’s not a very fatherly sort. I suppose I could be proved wrong in the fullness of time.”
Stewie waited, not sure what else to say. He shifted from foot to foot, waiting to see if there was more she wanted to tell him.
“But I think you’re missing my point, Stewie.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. What’s your point?”
“You have no grandparents. I have no grandchildren. Maybe we could adopt each other.”
Stewie felt his eyes go wide. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“Why do you look so surprised, Stewie?”
“I guess because I sort of thought you didn’t like me.”
“Now why would you think that? Just because I encourage you to keep your feet on the carpet and call people by their actual names?”
“I guess. I’m not sure.”
“Anyway, it’s not enough that I like you. We have to like each other.”
“I like you!” he said. He pushed it out loud, and fast, because you should never keep a person waiting at a time like that. “I especially like your accent, even though I don’t know what accent it is. Where are you from?”
“I am from Sierra Leone,” she said.
“Ooh. That would be cool, to tell the kids at school I have a grandmother from Sierra Leone. I think that makes you much cooler than everybody else’s grandmothers, who are all just from boring old here. I really think you’re too young to be a grandmother, though.”
To his surprise, she responded with a shy smile.
“Well, if you’re hoping to flatter me, Stewie, it’s working very well. But I am plenty old enough. My daughter is thirty-seven and my son thirty-six. If they’d had children at the age I had them, my grandchildren would be older than you. They’d be graduating from high school by now.”
Stewie stood in the hall without speaking for a few beats, his eyes wide, scratching that one spider bite on his hip that hadn’t entirely stopped itching.
“I guess you just look like you’re too young.”
“That’s a very kind thing to say to your grandmother,” Joni said. “Now, come on. I’ll help you get all these eggs into the kitchen.”
“I still owe you for your last egg delivery,” Marjorie said.
“Are you sure? I was thinking maybe I don’t get paid for those because the deal is I was supposed to bring them into the kitchen.”
Then he had to duck fast. A kitchen worker yelled, “Look alive, Stewie,” and he jumped out of the way of a rolling rack of pies. Blueberry, he decided from the aroma.
“You thought we wouldn’t pay you for those?” Marjorie asked. She sounded genuinely shocked. As if he’d just said he was born on some planet other than Earth.
“That was the deal, though. I’m supposed to deliver them to the kitchen.”
“But we don’t get them for free just because of where you leave them.”
“If you’re sure,” Stewie said.
“I’ll just go get the business checkbook. If a check is okay. Is a check okay? We’re not allowed to keep much cash around, after . . . well, never mind after what, but anyway, we do most everything by check nowadays. Do you even have a checking account, Stewie? Can you cash it?”
“My sister, Stacey, can cash it for me.”
“Good,” she said. “Walk with me. We’ll talk.”
They set off down the hall together. He felt Marjorie’s hand brush against his arm, and looked over to see that she was holding out her hand for him to take. He slipped his hand into hers, and they walked down the hall that way.
It reminded Stewie of the time he and Marilyn had walked hand in hand, and, because of that, it was a little sad even though it was also good.
“Know how many grandchildren I have?” she asked as they passed residents napping in wheelchairs.
“No I don’t. We never talked about your grandchildren.”
“Thirteen.”
Stewie stopped dead in the hallway. A couple of steps later Marjorie stopped as well. She looked back and down at Stewie, probably trying to assess the holdup.
“Thirteen?”
“I wouldn’t make a thing like that up.”
“That’s a lot!”
“Tell me about it.”
They walked again, still holding hands.
“You’re not superstitious,” he said, “are you?”
“Not at all.”