The Brilliance of Fireflies

by Leslie Hauser

  Ryan laughs. “Hungry?”

  “Oh my God, yes,” I say, covering my mouth with my hand as I speak. He watches me, and I don’t even care that a bit of banana smears on my face or that muffin crumbs tumble and stick to my sweat-drenched shirt. God, I must smell, too. But I can’t even care about that either. I open the chocolate milk and start guzzling.

  “So... how was it?” he asks when I’m finished eating. He reads my face and adds, “I mean, what did you think of your first half-marathon?”

  I swallow the last bit of muffin and rattle off the list of lessons I angrily penned in my mind throughout the race. “I learned that even if it’s 60 degrees at the start, you should dress for 90 degrees. I learned that I need to carry water with me instead of only relying on the water stations. Oh, and drink water even if you feel invincible and think you don’t need it. I learned that I need to wear a hat and that energy gels are disgusting. And I learned that loud music is a runner’s best friend.”

  Ryan lets out a deep guttural laugh. “Damn.”

  “Yeah, well I had thirteen painful miles to reflect.” I finish off the chocolate milk.

  “Point one.”

  “Yes.” I laugh. “Thirteen point one. Let’s not forget the point one.”

  I drink more of the water and stare out at the ocean. We talk for a little bit, but I feel myself getting stiff. I stand, with some assistance from Ryan, and we walk—I hobble—back to my car. On the way, I say, “You know, I also learned that having someone cheering for you makes all the difference.”

  “You’re welcome.” He shines a heart-stopping smile at me. “Any time.”

  I heat up again and my gaze shifts down. I notice a smudge of coffee energy gel on my shirt and wonder how gross I truly look. My hand instinctively reaches up to my hair, and I cringe. But in the next step, the heavy finisher’s medal bangs against my chest, and nothing but pure joy fills me.

  I can barely walk the day after the race. It eventually passes; however, the glory of my finish remains. I blab to Mari about the race until I can tell from her reaction that she feels like she ran it with me. I can’t help it, though. I stare at my medal multiple times a day, and Coach is even impressed with me when I tell him about finishing. It wasn’t a really fast time, but he said for a first-time racer, especially at that distance, I did a great job.

  The pressure eases a little with one of the four races completed, so now I can focus more on my college applications. I’ve worked on the Ohio State application like an author drafting a novel. I’ve analyzed every word in my essay and reviewed my answers at least ten times. I made Grandma review it to see if I made any errors, and I even made an appointment with my counselor at lunch today to review it.

  “Sorry I’m late today,” I say to Mari when I make it to our lunch spot after the meeting.

  She’s just about finished with her lunch. “No biggie. I was just watching Jenny Miller attempt more flirting with Josh Sanders.”

  “And how’s she doing today?” I joke and remove my lunch from my backpack. We’ve been watching her try to make a move on him for the past week.

  “A little better. I think the casual touch of his shoulder combined with her low-cut top is working.” Mari crunches a carrot.

  I unwrap my sandwich and focus on Jenny. Sure enough, her shirt is really giving Josh a lot to look at.

  “So what’d the counselor say? Is your application good?” Mari asks.

  “She says it looks fine, and it’s ready to submit.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah. I think she wanted to talk more about the other applications—the ones I haven’t done yet.” I bite my lip. “But I told her I had to go.”

  “You should’ve stayed.”

  “I didn’t want to—”

  “Leave me all alone?” Mari finishes.

  I shrug.

  “I’m a big girl, you know.” She crunches a final carrot. “And besides, you’re lucky that I’m hanging out with you. I had big plans with the library this year.”

  I laugh. “Oh yeah?”

  “That’s right. I had planned on spending some quality time this year with Hester Prynne and Miss Havisham, as well as reminisce about the good ole days with Harry Potter and Corduroy.”

  “I guess I am very lucky, especially if I’m up against Corduroy.”

  She nods at me in mock seriousness. “He’s tough competition with the heart-wrenching missing button and all.”

  We both giggle, and the bell rings. I shove my half-eaten sandwich in my lunch bag, and we pack our stuff.

  As I walk to class, I realize I am lucky. Mari is the perfect friend for me here.

  All my positive vibes dissipate when I arrive home after school. There’s another shouting match happening inside, with Grandma alone at the kitchen table. It must have been bridge day again because the cards and perspiring iced teas are out on the table. I only see Rose and another blond bridge friend this time. They are inches from Susan’s face.

  “What’s going on?” I shout into the chaos, dropping my stuff right inside the door.

  “Oh good, you’re here,” the blond friend says, turning toward me. “When we arrived for bridge this afternoon, your grandmother was having one of her spells. And this one,” she angrily points to Susan, “put her hands on Connie.”

  “What?” I glare at Susan.

  She throws up her hands. “Oh please. That’s a gross exaggeration. I was just trying to get her out of the chair.”

  “Yes, by yanking at her,” Rose chimes in.

  Susan turns to me. “Look, I was supposed to leave at three today. There should have been another nurse here at two for the transition, but she hasn’t arrived yet. I was just trying to get your grandmother to take her pills. She’s been refusing lately, and it’s something that has to get done.”

  Grandma’s friend mutters, “Leaving early again...”

  Cartoon steam shoots out of Susan’s head. “I’m very sorry that my sister’s illness is an inconvenience to you.”

  “I feel for you and your sister, I really do, but our priority is Connie. And she’s not getting the care she needs.”

  “Or that she’s paying for,” Rose adds. “She’s supposed to have a regular nurse.”

  “Well, then you should request a change,” Susan says matter-of-factly.

  Rose and the blond lady turn to me. “Your grandmother—”

  They’re interrupted by a knock at the door followed by the entrance of the young Asian nurse who had been here before. Susan launches at her like a tiger and begins mauling her with reproaches and accusations. The young nurse immediately snarls out a defense, and their arguing draws in Grandma’s friends. About this time, another bridge lady emerges from the hallway waving a paper and claiming she’s found the in-home care contract in Grandma’s bedroom. This takes the anger to a new level as they all claw at the paper like crows fighting over a dropped French fry.

  They’ve forgotten about me, so I walk over to Grandma. I sit next to her as she stares at the ruckus but looks somewhere far beyond it. The shouting continues and my mind flashes back to Mom and the hospital.

  When they rushed her out of the ER, she went immediately into surgery. Afterward, as she was recovering in the ICU, the nurses let me spend the nights in her room. The doctors always showed me cheery faces and spoke optimistic words, but more than once I saw them shaking their heads with more serious faces at my aunt and uncle outside the room.

  I woke up one morning in Mom’s ICU room—the third or fourth day, I’m not sure because all the days blurred together—to the shouts and screams of the blue and green-clothed bodies darting in and out of the room and back and forth from one side of her bed to the other, all while beeping machines screeched in urgency. My mind screamed—What’s happening? What’s wrong with my mom?—but my paralyzed voice remained silent. In the chaos, a nurse finally spotted me and led me out of the room. I saw her mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear her voice. My ears were filled with
the dire cry of the machines hooked to Mom.

  My mom went into cardiac arrest that morning. We held out hope for two weeks, but we knew it was the end because her eyes never registered anything other than an empty faraway look. She’d gone somewhere that morning and was never coming back. Her body had experienced too much trauma. Still, I never left her side. I held her hand every moment of every day; even when I rested my head on her bed for brief moments of sleep, I never let go. Uncle Jim told me I should go home and get some proper sleep. He said she probably didn’t even know I was there. But that didn’t matter to me. I told him, if it were me, I’d want someone to sit with me and hold my hand at the end. I’d want someone to be there with me, so I wasn’t alone. Even if I didn’t know it.

  “Emma? Emma, what do you think?” Rose’s voice brings me back to the present.

  “You’re going to let a teenager make this decision?” Susan snaps.

  This sets off more shouts that ricochet off the walls. I gently hold Grandma’s hand between mine.

  “I’m here, Grandma,” I say to her, and she looks over at me, eyes still somewhere far away. “I’m here.”

  Chapter 12

  I fired Susan. I guess I “dismissed” her. That’s what Grandma’s friends called it. One of her friends found something in the in-home care contract that allowed for it, and collectively we ousted her, although as her relative, they made me give the final say. I don’t know if it was the right thing to do. Susan clearly has other things on her mind, and it’s hurting Grandma. But I can’t take care of her on my own. Her friends assured me they will be here to help out until we find a new in-home care service to use, and they’ll have to help out starting today because I still have a week of school until Thanksgiving break.

  Rose arrives before I leave for school. Grandma is still a little depressed. I’m not sure if it’s about Susan or something else; she’s pretty quiet. But both she and Rose assure me things will be okay. I have a little help from Grandma’s blond friend after cross-country practice, but she leaves before dinner. Most of Grandma’s friends have big family Thanksgiving plans. They insist I can call that week if I need anything, but I know I’ll be on my own.

  By the next week, Grandma seems to be back to her old self. She pressures me to go to work on Saturday, but my pulse quickens when I think about leaving her alone. So I reschedule my shift, and we spend the day together. It’s a good start when she takes her pills without issue. Thankfully, I remembered to have them set out on the counter when I call her back in the kitchen to take them. She’s a few days behind on her soap opera, so we catch up on that. Later, I drive her to the grocery store to buy the ingredients for a roast chicken recipe she’s been dying to try. During dinner, I tell her about an app for the iPad that could help her find a ton of new recipes. Her eyes brighten, so after we’ve done the dishes, we fish out her iPad and I set it up. I also add a few puzzle and game apps she can play. She gets a little confused with all the directions and passwords, and my heartbeat quickens at the thought of her having another spell. But I calmly recall what I read online earlier today when Grandma was napping and I researched dementia. I slow down and write out all the directions for her on a paper she can keep with the iPad. Her stress eases, and she even works a few puzzles before going to bed. I fall asleep not long after her, exhausted from the day.

  She pushes me out the door and on to work Sunday after church. “I’ve got my coffee and my newspaper. I’m fine,” she claims.

  I feel better about how she’s doing, but I still convince Lynn at work to let me keep my cell phone with me in case there is an emergency. Nothing eventful happens, especially because Ryan isn’t here. I knew he wouldn’t be because he has practice for his Thanksgiving tournament that starts tomorrow, and I’m worn out when the day is over. My worry over Grandma, not seeing Ryan, and being stuck in a cramped, dingy office filing paperwork for hours makes it a very long day. When I get home, Grandma sings in the kitchen, and the whole house smells like the Greek garlic sauce she loves to make. We eat until we’re stuffed, and I convince her to watch a silly animated movie with me after dinner.

  It doesn’t slow down the next day either. I guess I didn’t know how busy Grandma is because I’m at school, but a lot happens around here. On Monday of my weeklong vacation, we take her usual morning walk around the neighborhood. After a shower, I drive her to the church to count money and then to a hair appointment. I wasn’t thinking that I’d have to stay the whole time, and I forget to bring my homework or a phone charger. The ladies talk to me the whole time at church, but my phone dies about fifteen minutes into her two-hour hair appointment. So, I read the salon magazines and catch up on celebrity gossip from July, learn how to give my home some country charm and discover how to stay active after fifty.

  When the hair appointment is finished, Grandma needs to run a few errands. We stop at the drugstore and the garden shop. Monday is also grocery day, and Grandma must go to three different stores to get the proper brands and prices. Once we finally get home, I get a small break when she takes a nap, but then it’s time to help with dinner. I struggle to stay awake until 9:00 p.m. when she goes to bed.

  The next two days are no different. There are more walks, bridge with a different group of ladies I don’t know, she has a nail appointment, and we have to get the house cleaned for the holiday. I was hoping she would forget about Thanksgiving because it will be my first big holiday alone, and I don’t really want to think about it. But Grandma wants to cook a turkey and go all out. I find a bit of thankfulness when Rose invites us to her celebration. She and her husband are on their own this year, so they are grateful to have the company. I’m grateful to escape the gray cloud of mourning that I know would have hovered over our table for two.

  By the end of the week, I haven’t made any progress on my college applications, I’ve had to skip the extra days of work I’d requested, and Sunday night becomes a cram session for all the homework that’s due tomorrow. A nurse from the new in-home care service is supposed to start next week. At church this morning, I prayed several times for that to be true.

  I catch up with Mari on the way in to school on Monday.

  “Hey!”

  She clutches a giant Starbucks cup. “Hi,” she says through a yawn.

  “I should’ve done that.” I point to her coffee.

  “It’s the only way I was getting here this morning.”

  She motions to the left, and we break off from the stream of students and walk toward her locker.

  “So how was the trip? Sounds like you were having fun,” I say as I take her coffee so she can open her locker. Mari and her mom spent the week at her aunt’s house in northern California. The few text threads we started fizzled out in the chaos of our weeks.

  She points at her ear, and I swing around to her other side. “Sorry,” I say and repeat my question.

  “It’s okay. Yeah, it was actually kind of fun. I was surprised. My mom was down with a headache almost the entire time, so I spent a whole lot of time with my aunt. We got our nails done, went to the movies, and she even took me into the city.”

  “That sounds cool.”

  “Yeah, she brought me to this awesome record store, and later, we had the best pie ever from this little hole-in-the-wall place.” She takes out a few folders and puts them in her backpack. “I don’t know why she’s still single. She’s like the coolest person on the earth.” Mari slams her locker. “How was your week? Did it get any easier?”

  I hand the coffee back to her. “No,” I exhale. “I guess I sort of just thought my grandma sat around all day while I was gone. But she does a lot. And now that Susan is gone, I’m the chauffeur. She feels really bad about it, so I can’t complain. But I got absolutely nothing done.”

  “What about Ryan?” Mari raises her eyebrows at me. “Did you get to a game?”

  I turn and we start off to my locker. “No. He texted me a few times, but I couldn’t get away. I feel like I disappointed him. When I didn
’t go to the first game, I got a sad-face emoji. After that, I didn’t get anything at all.”

  “You couldn’t get away or you were too scared to go?” Mari raises an eyebrow as we turn a corner.

  My hands fly up in surrender. “No, I swear I was too busy. But I feel so bad now, and I can’t even text him because I can’t explain to him the reason why.”

  “Seriously, you need to tell him. He’s going to understand.”

  We arrive at my locker. “It’s not that I don’t think he’ll understand. It’s just that...” I can’t finish the thought. I mess up my combination and have to try again.

  “I know,” Mari says, seeming to sense the rest of my thought. “But you need to tell him. I’ll bet you it’s not going to change how he acts around you.”

  I finally get the locker open and turn to face her. “I know. But how?”

  The bell rings. “You’ll figure it out. But you’ve got to do it. And soon.” She tips her head back and finishes the last sip of coffee. “Gotta go. English calls.”

  “Physics. Ugh. It’s too early for Mr. Dunbar.”

  “Better than Ms. Burgstrom.”

  “See you at lunch,” I say, shutting my locker, and I head off in the opposite direction.

  I successfully avoid Ryan all week. I don’t think he’s mad at me, but I’m not sure what to say to him, so I jam out of second period and take a different route to Calculus. I also convince Mari we should return to her library days at lunch. It’s the middle of yet another heat wave, so it sort of makes sense anyway.

  Grandma has been doing well, but I was still nervous to leave her this week. Her friends, though, have each taken a day and provide help. I wake up earlier than usual to eat breakfast with her and make sure she takes her pills. Then one of her friends spends the day with her. Grandma argued at first, but since she should only be inconveniencing everyone—as she puts it—for a week, she relented.