Under Water

by Andrea Ring

  The only other family we have nearby is my dad’s mom, Grandma Ruth. She stays in an assisted living home in Tustin, and though we were close once, she has dementia and doesn’t always remember who I am. She has good days and bad days, so Dad likes to say. He used to bring her over every weekend, to spend time with her and to get her out since she no longer drives, but those regular weekend visits fell to the wayside when I got sick.

  I haven’t seen her in two months.

  She leans on Dad heavily as they walk up the driveway to the porch on Christmas Eve. He actually picks her up and deposits her at the top of the steps, since her days of stair-stepping are long over.

  “Hey, Grandma,” I say, giving her a peck on the cheek and taking her other arm to help guide her to the couch.

  She looks me in the eye. “Eleanor, what happened to your hair?”

  My hand automatically flies to the top of my head. “It’s finally growing back in. What do you think?”

  She sniffs. “Looks a little manly. A girl should try to be more feminine.”

  I smile and glance at her own hairdo, probably set last week at the beauty parlor. How the hell she sleeps on it and still manages to keep its shape is beyond me.

  I help her sit and scooch her back against the cushions. “You look beautiful, Grandma,” I say.

  “Thank you,” she says primly, spreading out the skirt of her dress around her and neatly crossing her thin ankles. She searches the room. “Where’s Lawrence?”

  “I’m right here, Mom,” my dad says, coming in from the kitchen. “Just checking on the turkey.”

  “You don’t belong in the kitchen,” she huffs. “Melinda can take care of that.”

  Dad laughs and sits next to her. “Times have changed, Mom. Mel’s changing the baby’s diaper. The least I can do is check on the turkey.”

  Grandma tsks. “I never needed help with the turkey.”

  My mother takes that moment to enter the room with Bea clinging to her neck. “Yes, Ruth. We all know what a superhero you were.” Bea wiggles to get free, and when Mom sets her down, she runs over to me and climbs into my lap.

  “There you are, little bumble Bea,” Grandma says to her. “How’s Grandma’s girl?”

  Bea lets loose with some gibberish, and Grandma smiles. Then she turns to Dad.

  “So what are we having for dinner? A ham?”

  Dad glances at me and forces a smile on his lips. “Turkey, Mom. We’re having turkey.”

  “But I wanted ham.”

  I pat Grandma’s hand. “So Grandma, what’s new with you?”

  Grandma turns back to me and wrinkles her brow. “Melinda? Is that you?”

  “I’m Eleanor,” I say.

  “Eleanor?”

  Dad sighs, but I ignore him.

  “I’m Eleanor, your granddaughter. I have some exciting news I wanted to share with you.”

  “Oh?” That perks her up a bit.

  “I have a new boyfriend.”

  Dad groans, but I ignore that, too.

  Grandma’s watery eyes twinkle. “Oh, do tell.” She takes my hand and holds it in her papery one.

  “His name’s Clark, and he’s goes to school at UCLA. He’s super smart. And he has his lip pierced.”

  “His lip!” Grandma laughs. “I never. Now what’s that like? Kissing a man who has his lip pierced.”

  “It’s no different than usual,” I say. “He’s a great kisser.”

  Dad actually growls and gets up to go to the kitchen. Mom follows him, and Grandma’s eyes follow them both. She squeezes my hand gently.

  “Good, we’re alone. Tell me more. Does he have a big penis?”

  “I heard that!” Dad yells from the kitchen. We both giggle.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.”

  She pats my hand. “Don’t be nervous. There’s nothing to be nervous about. You’re lucky, in a way. Without the fear of getting pregnant, you have a lot of sexual freedom. Much more than I had at your age.”

  I don’t know what to say to her sudden insightful clarity.

  “Mom!”

  Grandma shifts her head toward the kitchen. “Stop yelling at me, Lawrence. Somebody has to talk to your daughter about this stuff. You two stiffs obviously aren’t getting the job done.”

  Dad comes out of the kitchen, looking like he’s about to explode. Something about Grandma makes him pause, though. He stares her down, and as I’m about to jump to her defense, he laughs. He laughs, and his jowls jiggle, and his sides heave, he can barely catch his breath, and tears start to stream down his face.

  Finally, he hugs her, still chuckling. “I love you, Mom,” he says.

  Grandma pats his back. “How could you not?”

  ***

  After dinner, Grandma falls asleep on the couch sitting up. I tuck a blanket around her and help Dad with the dishes.

  Mom has disappeared.

  “She’s getting worse, I think,” Dad says.

  “This is typical Mom,” I say, handing Dad another rinsed plate to go in the dishwasher. “Are you finally tired of it?”

  He stiffens. “I meant your grandmother.”

  Oh.

  “I think she’s been pretty with it,” I say. “She remembered all of us, and she even remembered me being sick.”

  “Ironic she remembers the things we want to forget.”

  I shut the faucet off and lean back on the counter.

  “Is it hard for you, seeing her like this?”

  Dad won’t meet my eyes. “She hasn’t been herself for a year. I’ve gotten used to it.”

  “Me, too. But those glimpses of the real her…was she always like that?”

  Dad laughs in spite of himself. “You mean nosey and blunt to the point of rudeness?”

  I smile. “Yeah.”

  “She could be. I think she always toned it down around Mom. When I got my letter from Stanford, did I ever tell you what she said?”

  I shake my head.

  “It was something like, ‘Dear God, Lawrence. You get into one of the best universities in the country, and you want to count beans? Bean counters have no soul. You need the humanities, an education in the liberal arts. Poetry! That’s what a man should study. Feed your soul, my beautiful son. Life’s too short to count beans.’”

  I laugh. “What did you say to that?”

  He scrubs a hand across his face. “Turned into the biggest argument we ever had. I told her she was too emotional, too flighty. That if she and Dad had spent even half their time counting those damn beans, we would have been a lot better off. Do you know she didn’t yell at me once? Didn’t so much as raise her voice. There I was, a young arrogant little prick, insulting the very essence of my mother, and she just took it.”

  “You still regret an argument you had thirty years ago?”

  “You never forget your regrets, Leni,” he says. “You just learn to live with them.”

  I glance over to the living room, and see the top of Grandma’s head over the back of the couch. It’s moving, so she must be awake.

  “Go apologize,” I say.

  Bea comes running into the kitchen, crying. Maybe Grandma scared her. I pick her up.

  “Grandma’s awake, Dad. I’ve got Bea. Go do it now.”

  “She won’t remember,” he says.

  “Do it for you.”

  He stands up a little straighter. “For me, huh?”

  And he joins Grandma on the couch.

  I try not to listen, but I can hear their conversation clearly.

  “Hey, Mom,” he says. “You have a good nap?”

  “Aren’t you a joker,” she says. “You think I’d fall asleep in the middle of dinner?”

  “I was just thinking…remember when I went off to school? Right before I left?”

  “Stanford,” she says.

  “Yes, exactly. Do you remember we had a fight? About my major?”

  Even though I can’t see her, I can feel her smile. “Beans. You maj
ored in beans.”

  “I did. But you wanted me to study poetry.”

  “Poetry is good for the soul,” she says. “But that’s not who you are. I never wanted you to be someone you’re not.”

  “I want to apologize for that day. For all those days. I said some horrible things to you, and I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, Lawrence,” she says. “You were just expressing yourself. And what good would I be as a mother, as a human being, if I couldn’t hear the truth?”

  “But that wasn’t truth, Mom, that was just…spite. Or anger. You weren’t any of the things I called you.”

  “Flighty, wasn’t it?”

  Dad barks a laugh. “You remember that?”

  “Some things stick with a person. I hope I was decidedly less flighty after that conversation. Help me up. I have to tinkle.”

  I follow them down the hall so I can get Bea ready for bed.

  Even from Bea’s room, I can hear them arguing.

  “Just turn around!” Grandma snaps. “You haven’t earned a peek.”

  “I’m not peeking,” Dad growls. “I’m holding your arm so you don’t fall over.”

  “I’d rather fall than have my son see my doo-dah.”

  I stifle a giggle. I wish Grandma were around more often.

  ***

  I volunteer to drive Grandma home, since I’m meeting Clark so we can exchange gifts.

  Grandma’s silent on the drive home. I try to talk to her, but she doesn’t put more than two words together.

  As I walk her through the halls of her home and to her room, she suddenly brightens.

  “You’re Eleanor, right?”

  I smile. “You got it.”

  “My son has a daughter named Eleanor. She’s not as pretty as you.”

  “Uh, thanks,” I say.

  I get her settled in her room and call an assistant to help her get ready for bed.

  “So I’m going, Grandma.” I kiss her wrinkled cheek. “I love you. Merry Christmas.”

  “It’s Christmas?”

  I nod. “Christmas Eve.”

  Her face falls. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “Do you want to see me tomorrow?”

  “Of course,” she says. “Bring your new man. Surely you can spare your Grandma a few minutes on Christmas.”

  “I’ll do that,” I say. “After lunch. I’ll see you after lunch.”

  I pull up to the coffeehouse and see Clark waiting for me. I practically jump into his arms.

  “Hey,” he says, staggering back. “You missed me, huh?”

  “Desperately,” I say. He gives me a long, lingering kiss.

  I grin at him. I can’t help it.

  “What’s got you in this great mood?”

  We take our seats, and Clark pushes a coffee my way. I smile at him appreciatively.

  “I had a great evening,” I say.

  He raises an eyebrow. “I thought you were dreading it.”

  “There’s still tomorrow to get through, but my Grandma was so funny tonight. I told her about you.”

  “You did?”

  I nod. “She asked me if you have a big penis.”

  Clark laughs. “What did you tell her?”

  “That I don’t know. Yet.”

  “Ah,” he says. “Yet. As though it is a foregone conclusion.”

  I sip my coffee. “Pretty much.”

  We share a smile. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says.

  I laugh off the butterflies that are doing cartwheels in my stomach. “So what’d you do tonight?”

  “Research.”

  “Research? You didn’t see Linda?”

  “I’ll see her tomorrow.”

  “Have you done anything Christmas-y this month?” I ask him.

  “I’ve seen friends. The faculty Christmas party.”

  “Have you looked at Christmas lights yet?”

  “Christmas lights?”

  “You know,” I say. “We used to do it when I was younger. Drive around and see the lights.”

  Clark shakes his head. “I’ve never done that.”

  I stand up and hold out my hand. “Come on. We can walk.”

  We stroll through Old Towne, arms linked, sipping our coffee. I’m worried at first that Clark will think this is totally lame, but as we hit Pine, the most decorated street in the area, his face actually lights up.

  “Wow,” he says. “I’ve driven by here, but I’ve never really looked. This is…I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  A fake piece of snow, actually bubbles, blows at us from the house on our right and gets caught on my eyelash. I reach to brush it off but Clark stops my hand.

  “Let me.”

  He rubs a thumb gently across my eye. And I cannot look away from him. He doesn’t look away from me. We stare at each other. And then he lowers his lips to mine.

  Our eyes are still open. I cannot remember ever kissing someone while looking straight into their eyes. Clark deepens the kiss, and still our gazes are locked.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against my mouth.

  We pull back, and he rummages in his coat. He pulls out a wrapped gift. “Here,” he says, handing it to me.

  I smile at him and unwrap the gift. It is a book, My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George.

  I stare at him, dumbfounded, but he misinterprets the look.

  “I know it’s just a children’s book,” he says, ducking his head, “but it meant a lot to me as a kid. The boy in it, Sam, he runs away to the mountains. I always wanted to do that. I always wished I could have done that.”

  I’m still staring at the book. “Seriously? This is your favorite book?”

  Clark reaches for the book, but I snatch it out of his reach.

  “I should have gotten you something for you,” he says, obviously hurt.

  “Wait,” I say. “Wait a minute.”

  I reach into my purse and pull out my gift to Clark. I hand it to him.

  “Leni,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop,” I say. “Open it.”

  Clark pulls the wrapping off and finds himself looking at another copy of My Side of the Mountain.

  “Is this a joke?” he says.

  I finally conjure a smile. “It’s my favorite book. See, there’s this kid, Sam, and he runs away to the mountains. I always wanted to do that when I was a kid. Run far, far away.”

  Clark pulls me into a tight hug. “No way,” he says into my hair. “No way.”

  “Way,” I whisper back.

  ***

  Clark meets me at Grandma’s home at 1:00. I was nervous about asking him to join me, but he didn’t hesitate to agree to make the visit with me.

  Grandma’s door is open when we get there, but Grandma’s nowhere in sight. I check the kitchen, knock on her neighbors’ doors, we search the common room, but we cannot find her.

  I finally track down one of the nurses and ask about Grandma.

  “Ruthie Marquette?” she repeats. “Are you family?”

  “Her granddaughter,” I say.

  She bites her lip. “Ruthie was taken to St. Joseph’s last night. She had a fall.”

  “What? Is she okay?”

  The nurse shakes her head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t here when it happened.”

  “But nobody called us,” I say. “Why wasn’t her family notified?” I sift through my purse, trying to find my phone so I can call Dad.

  “I don’t know. I could look in her file, if you’d like.”

  “Yes, please,” I tell her, and she hurries off. “Where the hell is my phone?” I dump the contents of my purse on the floor and paw through it.

  “Leni, it’s not there,” Clark says, but I ignore him and continue to look. Her finally grabs my arm. “I left mine in the car. I’ll go get it for you.” I nod. He kisses my forehead and leaves me to clean up.

  The nurse comes back as I finish. “Last night, at…10:20, the nurse on duty talked to a Melinda, daughter-in-law. Is th
at your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “It doesn’t look like it’s too serious. They called the ambulance because they thought your grandmother might have broken a hip. But she’s okay.”

  Clark bursts through the doors at the end of the hallway, my phone in his hand.

  “Thank you,” I say to the nurse. She pats my arm and goes back to work.

  “It was in your car,” Clark says as I snatch the phone. I call Dad’s phone, but he doesn’t answer. I call the house phone. Mom answers on the second ring.

  “I need to talk to Dad.”

  Mom doesn’t say anything. I just hear heavy footsteps on the wood floor.

  “Leni?”

  “Dad, Grandma’s in the hospital.”

  “What?”

  I tell him the info I got.

  “I’ll meet you at St. Jo’s,” he says.

  “Wait, Dad. Wait. No.”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “Will you please wait until I get to the house? That way I can watch Bea while you and Mom go.”

  “Bea…damn it. I can’t wait. I’ll have your mother wait, and she can meet me there.”

  “But Dad—” He hangs up on me. I look at Clark. “I have to go home and watch Bea so they can go to the hospital.”

  We hurry out to our cars.

  “Do you want me to stay with you?” Clark asks.

  “You’re supposed to have dinner with Linda at three. It’s Christmas.”

  “I’d rather be with you,” he says.

  I stop walking and hug him. He holds me close.

  “How about you stay on standby? When my parents are done, and if Grandma’s up for it, maybe you could see her with me later.”

  “It’s a date.”

  Clark tucks me into my car and kisses me goodbye.

  ***

  I get home to hear Bea wailing from her crib. I grab her and search for Mom.

  I find her curled up in bed.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I yell at her.

  She turns over and blinks at me. Then she tucks her head under the pillow.

  I shake her arm and pull her toward me.

  “Get up. Dad needs you.”

  She doesn’t fight me, but she doesn’t move to get up, either.

  “Leni, I can’t,” she says quietly.

  “This is ridiculous,” I say. “Get your ass up now!”