The Cabin

I didn’t want to play this game, but I humored her. “I don’t know, Gran, how many?”

“Same number it takes for someone to know when they’re dying. Just one.” She continued to stroke my hair as my eyes flooded with tears.

“No…”

“Oh, honey, I’ve known for a while now. I don’t want to eat bees or zap myself with gamma radiation for a couple more days of feeling like shit. Forever isn’t enough time to be with you, so if I went today, tomorrow, or a million years from now, it still would never be enough time.”

“Gran—”

She shushed me. “I want to see you get married, have kids, be a grandmother, be famous. You know, do all your growing up. Just because I’m not here to see it, doesn’t mean I won’t know. You’re all I live for, kiddo. You’re everything. But I can live for you in heaven. I can see you from there. I can even haunt you if I want.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed hard.

It was almost like what she said to me in the dream. A shiver ran up my spine and made me shudder. She pulled me in close.

“I don’t want to let you go,” I choked out through the tears.

“I think it’s time I see my daughter. I’m looking forward to that. I’ve really been missing her.” She squeezed my hand again. “And don’t worry, I’m not going today. I got a few good days in me. We’ll do it up.”

I thought of the million dollars and how we could now “do it up” in style.

“Guess what, Gran.”

“What, sweetie?”

“I sold my paintings. I can quit the diner, so I’ll be able to be with you. Take care of you.”

She smiled, showing all of her dentures. “Well, you’re getting famous already. I’m so glad I get to see that. Gonna see you quit that shithole too, my life’s complete.”

I grinned. “Yeah, quitting that shithole will be fun.”

“Let’s say a proper fuck you to mortality and eat bad stuff, watch scary movies, and cuddle,” Gran proclaimed in her adorable, perfectly imperfect way.

“Okay, let’s do it!” Somehow, she rallied me, and I was there, ready to say goodbye, even though I had no idea how I’d ever manage without her.

The first thing we did when the hospital finally released Gran was go to Baskin-Robbins. She got a triple scoop of ice cream — Jamoca Almond Fudge, Pralines and Cream, and Mint Chocolate Chip. She only ate part of it, but if we were flying the bird at mortality, she was doing it in grand style.

She also listened in to my phone call with Ma when I quit my job at the diner. I didn’t give them too much information because they already had about a week’s worth of great gossip to chew on. Rumor had it, I was sleeping with KP and we had a fight, which was why he came back to the restaurant. I was pregnant with his baby, but I, being the bitch I was, didn’t want it. He—according to them—had bought me an apartment in Manhattan and I was going to move there any day now.

What crazy nonsense, and the crazier thing was, they all believed it. I was just happy to be out of there.

I didn’t quit my job at the center. It was only a few days a week and I loved working with the kids. I needed something to help me keep my head on straight and Gran and I both agreed I needed them. As soon as I got Gran settled in her room, I told her about KP. I expected to get a tongue whipping, but she was thrilled.

“You don’t think I’m being stupid?” I asked.

“Hell, child, love is stupid,” she told me as she started getting groggy and tired.

“Well, I’m not in love,” I confessed.

“Oh yes you are,” she rebutted, “you just don’t know it yet.”

I started to argue, but she closed her eyes and I left her to rest. I spent the rest of the night looking at our old photo albums and crying.

The next morning, a hospice nurse named Athena came to the door. She was a beautiful woman in her late thirties, robust, dark-skinned, and oozing love.

“What do I need to do?” I asked after our introductions, terrified to hear the answer.

Gran may have made her peace with dying, but I sure hadn’t.

“Since it’s just you caring for your grandmother, we’ll have a nurse here throughout most of the day. It will usually be me or my partner Bernard,” she said kindly.

I still felt like I was in the twilight zone.

“What about when I have to go to work?” I asked.

“Leave your schedule with me, and we’ll make sure that Ms. Darning has care.” Her tone was so angelic it hypnotized me into a feeling of safety and wellness.

I’d planned on cancelling with KP, but after being assured by Athena that she would take good care of Gran, I went ahead with my plans.

Leaving my grandmother in Athena’s capable hands, I waited for KP to pick me up for the first day of my painting assignment. The Bentley pulled up in front of our house, but surprisingly, KP was driving. I got into the car feeling sad and overwhelmed. KP immediately noticed my distress.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asked with a note of true kindness and interest.

“No,” I assured him. “I just got some bad news. I’ll be okay.”

“Do you want to do this another day? There’s no time pressure. We can do this later if you want.”

I took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”

“How about a little music,” he offered.

I smiled and closed my eyes. “That would be great.”

I was trying to shake off my sadness, but it was hard to do until he put on the music. Then the music began to rock and I laughed.

“Abba?” I couldn’t believe him. I’d pictured him a snooty jazz or opera kind of guy.

He just smiled this enormous grin, tapping the steering wheel to Dancing Queen.

I shook my head. My life just got that much weirder. But within fifteen minutes of entering the vehicle, we were both moving to the music and singing like bohemians. I had a pretty good voice, which I was rockin’ because it felt so good. He didn’t have a good voice at all, but he was rockin’ it anyway. It made me laugh. Laughing felt right.

He pulled up to the Harbor House Adult Care Facility For People With Psychological Disabilities, and I was immediately intrigued. A valet instantly came to his driver’s side door to take the car. The man knew KP by name and was very friendly with him. The same with the front desk staff, who greeted KP warmly as he introduced me to them.

“Wenton’s house is just down this way,” KP said as I followed him out of the main building.

“Does he work here?” I asked, then realized the question might be inappropriate.

“I’m sure he thinks he does,” he answered with a laugh.

We walked down a paved pathway to an adorable little cottage. KP didn’t bother knocking on the door, just walked in.

“Hey, bro,” he yelled, “I brought a surprise for you.” He leaned closer to me and lowered his voice. “He doesn’t get many visitors. Even the Amazon delivery guy is a surprise for him.”

Within moments, a very tall, remarkably slight man with an infectious grin ambled over to KP, in a valiant attempt to run.