by Luana Ferraz
“My granddaughter will help me,” she says, staring at him blankly.
“Okay,” he sighs, handing me her clothes. “I’ll be just outside.”
Grandma waits until he’s gone to sit up on the bed. When she tries to stand up, of course, she loses her balance. I catch her before another accident occurs and decide to make no remarks. She does let me help her, silently and grumpily.
“So, you’ve been discharged?” I ask her.
“Not yet,” she answers in a steady voice. “They were waiting on someone to come pick me up and sign the papers. As if I’m a baby who doesn’t know how to take care of herself.”
“Grandma!” I exclaim but smile. “It’s just protocol, I’m sure.”
“Protocol, protocol,” she mutters.
After we’re done, I help her on the bed again and decide to go look for Patrick to ask what’s the procedure. I don’t have to look, though—I open the door to find him waiting with a wheelchair.
“Ready to go home, Eileen?” he asks excitedly as he walks back in.
“I can walk,” she says bitterly, eying the chair.
“I know you can, I’m just spoiling you,” he says and winks.
Grandma doesn’t say anything and accepts the ride. I watch as Patrick helps her on the chair and retrieves her stuff, always smiling. He must really love what he does.
“We’re gonna stop at the reception desk to sign you off, okay?” he says as he pushes her out and I follow.
She complains about that, muttering unintelligible things. I chat briefly with the nurse at the main hall, sign some papers and while grandma goes through the same process, I look around for Tyler. I frown when I find him talking to Dr. Haddish. She’s grinning, a look of pure adoration on her face. I can’t believe it. I watch as she asks him a question, takes her phone and snaps a selfie. That’s when Tyler spots me. He points to me, says something else, and the young doctor’s smile fades slightly. Great.
They start to make their way towards us, which makes me a little nervous as I remember I haven’t told grandma about Tyler. My brain starts to work extra fast to come up with an explanation.
“Morning, Rebecca,” she says when they’re close enough, immediately approaching grandma to talk to her about her next appointment.
“Just Becky,” Patrick whispers beside me. It makes me smile. “So, will I see you around?”
“Uhm…” I hesitate, taken by surprise with this. “Not really. I don’t live here.”
“Oh,” he nods, a bit disappointed. Or, at least, I think he is. “Where do you live?”
“London,” I say.
“Cool! Never been there.” He fully turns to me now. Oh, no. We’re gonna have ‘a conversation’. I’m not good at it. “What do you do there?”
“Uhm… I’m a musician,” I start fidgeting with the hem of my sweater.
“Cool! Anything I’ve heard?” he goes on, either unaware of or indifferent to my discomfort.
“I don’t think so,” I smile politely. He doesn’t look like someone who listens to punk.
“Too bad,” his smile broadens. Gosh, it’s a beautiful smile. “Where can I hear it?”
“Well, I’m currently on tour,” I find myself saying. Tyler snorts somewhere behind me. I ignore it.
“Nice! Are you coming anywhere near?”
“We’re playing Edinburgh and Glasgow this weekend,” I continue, not really sure why.
“Nice! Maybe I’ll come around to see you.” I feel the warmth of his tone climb its way to my face. “What’s the band’s name?”
“Actually, I’m opening for the main act.” I turn to Tyler now. “The Hacks.”
Patrick’s expression transforms. He looks at Tyler, eyes wide, a finger loosely pointing to him.
“Right. You’re that guy from that band.” He gives him a once-over, realization washing over his features. “The one who looked like a girl.”
I snort, chocking with laughter that I try to disguise as a coughing fit.
“In person,” Tyler says unamused, giving me a side-eye.
“Brilliant! My older sister had posters of you all over her walls,” Patrick continues, which doesn’t help my mood. “Can I take a selfie? She’s gonna lose it.”
“Sure,” Tyler agrees, immediately putting on his professional heartthrob smile.
That’s when grandma finally finishes with the receptionist and the doctor. Dr. Haddish gives a few last instructions and we say our goodbyes. Patrick motions to start pulling grandma’s chair, but Tyler stops him.
“I’ll get it from here. Thank you,” he smiles coldly to him.
“Okay, then. Bye, Eileen! I hope you don’t miss me!” He squeezes her shoulder and she mumbles something under her breath.
“Thank you, Patrick,” I feel compelled to say.
“No problem,” he smiles again. “See you soon.”
I don’t answer him. I turn around and start walking, followed by Tyler and grandma.
“What a cheeky young man,” she remarks when we’re far enough. “I couldn’t take any more of his bright mood. Thank you for rescuing me, dearie.” She looks up, tapping Tyler’s hand.
“You’re welcome,” he says politely.
“And who are you again?”
That guy from that band who looked like a girl. I manage to not say it aloud, but I laugh anyway. I can’t help it. Tyler glares.
I then explain to her who he is and why he’s here—or, at least, some version of it. I tell her they wouldn’t let me come on my own.
“Why, are you a prisoner now?” she asks, making me laugh again.
Tyler helps her into the car, and I’m still grinning wildly when he closes the door and turns to me. He rolls his eyes, giving me an annoyed look as he pulls me to the side so he can get to the passenger seat. I take several deep breaths as I round the front of the car to get to my seat, and finally drive home.
***
The first thing grandma does when she steps into the house is walk into the kitchen. She opens the fridge, inspecting its contents, glances at the empty sink, smells the freshly-made pie I left on the counter. Tyler and I watch in silence as she does that.
“Did you bake it?” she asks, poking the pie.
“Yes, this morning,” I confirm. “Do you want some?”
“That would be great, I’m starving,” she says, moving slowly to sit on the kitchen counter.
I take three plates from the cupboard and cut three slices of pie. Tyler sits down beside grandma, awkwardly staring from her to me. I can only imagine how he must be feeling. This must be so much more than what he bargained for. Well, he’s here now, and this is what he gets.
“This tastes good, sweetie,” grandma says with a mouthful.
“Yours was better,” Tyler argues, making me glare.
Grandma turns to him with a suspicious expression, at first, but then she smiles. “Thank you, my boy.”
Silence falls upon us once again as we finish eating. Tyler takes our plates to the sink and washes them as I try to ignore grandma’s amused stare.
“Are you tired?” I ask her. “Do you want to go lie down for a while?”
“Gosh, no, the last thing I wanna do is lie down,” she chuckles. “Let’s sit in the living room and have a chat.”
My stomach sinks at the suggestion. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want her talking to Tyler. I don’t want her telling him about my life here, about my parents, about what happened last time I came home. I decide to text Jo and see if she can come over already so we can leave. I don’t want to be here anymore.
“So, tell me about yourself,” grandma asks Tyler as soon as we sit down. He looks at her with wide eyes and as much as I would love to hear his answer, I interrupt.
“Tyler plays piano,” I say. “A lot better than I do. Do you want to hear it?”
“And will you let him play your piano?” She gives me a surprised look. I can feel myself start to blush. Then, she turns back to Tyler, “She’s very posses
sive of it, you know.”
“I know,” Tyler answers, smiling. A stark contrast to the image of him glaring the first time I played his piano.
“Go ahead,” I tell him.
“How did you learn?” Grandma interrupts.
“I took lessons as a child,” he says simply.
“Oh, just like Rebecca,” grandma smiles, patting my knee. “But she doesn’t play anymore, such a shame.”
“She’s been playing it on tour,” Tyler says. I curse him mentally.
“Indeed?” She turns to me again, eyebrows high on her forehead.
“Yeah, just… a little,” I mumble.
“That’s wonderful, dearie!” She squeezes my leg. It feels awful. Because she knows the reason why I stopped playing. And, now, the fact that I am playing on tour has a different meaning to her, a meaning that’s not at all true. Because I’m not at all over it. “What song, though? I don’t imagine you playing piano with the noise you and Peter make together.”
“Grandma…” I sigh. I knew she’d find a way to criticize my music.
“It is one of their songs, actually,” Tyler continues. I make a face when grandma turns to him, in hopes he’ll stop talking about it. He doesn’t. “We rearranged it together.”
“Wonderful,” she repeats, and then suddenly changes the subject. “What do you play, dearie?”
“Ah, noise, I suppose,” Tyler says, smiling brightly.
“Well, at my age, everything that’s not a classic is noise,” grandma answers with an actual grin. Christ. I can’t believe it. He’s seducing her and she’s falling for it.
“I do play classics, though,” he continues.
“I’d imagine you did, you have the hands for it,” she says and my eyes automatically focus on them. I have to agree. He has elegant, fair hands, with long, skinny fingers… “What do you play?”
“Some Beethoven, some Vivaldi…” he shrugs, as if he’s talking about items in a grocery shop list.
“Chopin, by any chance?” grandma asks, making my heart start to race.
“Absolutely!” he confirms, excitedly.
“Oh, dearie,” she leans over, putting a hand over his, “could I bother you to play just a little bit?”
“Sure, of course!” he agrees, to my dismay. As he gets up and installs himself in front of the piano, my piano, he says, “I’m a little rusty, though, be warned.”
It’s a lie. He doesn’t sound rusty at all. He sounds like he’s played Chopin every day of his life. He sounds like someone who’s had classical training. He sounds like… my dad. Actually, I think he sounds better, which makes me angry, at first. How dare he show off like this, with that song? How dare Eileen request someone else to play it? How dare I… like it? I can’t. I can’t like it. And yet…
It’s so weird. There are so many emotions competing inside of me to see which will win. I can’t decide what I should be feeling. It’s like I’m somewhere else watching me watch this moment. And then, for a second, I imagine dad watching it, too. What would he think? What would he say? I can’t even begin to count how many times a day I ask myself these questions.
What would he think? What would he say? Why can’t I ask?
“Dear boy,” Eileen gasps when Tyler finishes. I look at her elated expression. And then I’m angry again. “You have such a talent!”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Tyler smiles, turning around on the bench to face us.
“I’m not just saying that, believe me,” grandma continues. “I’d never heard anyone play Chopin as well as my son. Until now.”
What? That’s such an exaggeration! What is she thinking? Why is she doing this?
I have to look away and bite my lip to hold back the tears. But my eyes fall on him, and his expression, and his small blue eyes glued on mine. He can tell. We look at each other for only a second, but I know he can tell. Or, maybe, I just wish he could.
“That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received,” he says, at last, turning back to Eileen. “Thank you.”
I want to punch him. I want to punch him so hard that he falls to the floor and stays there. I also want to kiss him. Goddammit. I want to kiss him so bad. This can’t be happening.
“You are most welcome,” grandma answers.
“Do you wanna try?” he asks me now. It takes me several seconds to find my voice.
“I can’t follow that,” I say, shaking my head.
“Play me your song,” grandma asks.
“What?” I gasp.
“The one you said you rearranged. Maybe I’ll like it on the piano,” she says, smiling and patting my knee again.
“Come on.” Tyler scoots over on the bench, making room for me. “I’ll sing.”
“You sing, too?” grandma asks him surprised. He chuckles.
I don’t know what possesses me, but I actually join Tyler on the bench. His back is to the piano now, but his eyes are on me. I can feel them.
I stare at the keys, a strange, familiar feeling bubbling up inside. I don’t even remember the last time I sat here. I don’t even remember the last time I played my piano. I always remember why I stopped, though.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, his voice so close to my ear. If I turn my head now…
I don’t give myself time to think and just start to play. And it doesn’t feel nearly as painful as I was bracing myself to be. It’s nice. It’s familiar. It’s… easy.
Tyler nails the song. I envy his falsetto so much. I envy the way he can make the song his own. I envy grandma who’s able to just sit there and watch this, while I have to watch my hands, otherwise I don’t know what I’m doing.
“Your voice is not as good as your fingers, I must say,” she blurts out when he finishes.
“Grandma!” I turn around, taking the opportunity to take some distance from him.
“It’s a nice song. Sad, but nice,” grandma continues.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
I walk back to the couch and sit in silence while grandma keeps requesting songs and Tyler keeps obliging. This is so surreal. I suddenly have the urge to register what’s happening, just so I know I’m not dreaming. So I take my phone out and snap a picture of him. And then send it to Pete.
***
Johanna and Dan arrive for lunch with lunch—she’s cooked her famous shepherds’ pie, and the smell immediately fills the house. I introduce them to Tyler but, thankfully, he doesn’t have time to answer none of Jo’s questions. I help her in the kitchen while she interrogates grandma and they go through their arrangements for the next days. Jo and Dan will be in the house some time or another every day of the week. I can see grandma is not super thrilled with this, but she does her best to not complain and accept the help. It makes me equal parts relieved and guilty.
“Are you both staying for lunch, hen?” she asks me.
I glance at the clock and I’m surprised to find it’s almost 1 p.m. I glance at Tyler then, but his blank expression is extremely unhelpful.
“We have to hurry,” I end up saying.
“We have time to eat,” Tyler argues. I look back at him. “It’s a short trip to Manchester, we only have to be there at night.”
“Great!” Jo squeals before I can say anything.
I try to not make a big deal of his willingness to stay longer.
As we sit down at the dinner table with our plates, my phone buzzes. I take it out to find Pete’s reply to the photo I sent.
‘WHAT IS THIS? IS THIS YOUR LIVING ROOM? IS THIS YOUR PIANO? IS THIS YOUR BOYFRIEND?’
I snort. Everyone looks at me.
“Pete,” I say, hoping it explains everything.
“Oh, I talked to him this morning,” Jo says. Of course you did.
‘Yes, yes, and ABSOLUTELY NOT,’ I text back.
‘I’ve received reports saying otherwise,’ he replies immediately.
‘Your source is misinformed,’ I say.
‘Or just able to foresee the future,’ his text says. I ignore i
t and keep eating. A few seconds later, he texts again, ‘Is his hair soft?’
I choke on my food, which makes everyone look at me again. I stand up, walking to the sink and filling a glass with water. I leave my phone there when I come back to the table.
We finish eating and then grandma asks me to serve the apple pie. I do. We eat again, talk again, stay some more. When I start to get restless, glancing at the clock every few minutes, grandma puts her hand over mine.
“I’ll pack the rest of the pie for your trip,” she says, getting up and taking the pie to the counter. I follow her, wanting to have a moment alone.
“Are you sure—”
“I am,” she interrupts me. “I’m feeling much better now.”
“Granny,” I stop her for a second.
“I’m telling the truth, dearie,” she says, resting her palm against my cheek. “And I’m so, so happy that you came.”
I can’t answer because if I talk, I’ll cry. Gee, how much water can a person shed through her eyes? I feel like I should be out of tears for a lifetime by now.
I nod, give her a little smile, and hug her. She pats the back of my head, the way she did when I was a little girl.
“I’ll be back when the tour is over,” I promise, even though that’s not what she expects. It’s not what she wants. I’ll come back anyway.
“Alright, petal,” she doesn’t argue, giving me a sweet smile.
She finishes packing up the pie, Tyler and I gather our stuff, and I let Jo and Dan hug me goodbye. I tell them to send the girls my love and that I’ll let them know when I come back. They all walk us outside, making everything a lot more dramatic. I don’t think they believe I’ll come back. I don’t think I believe I will. I still want to try, though.
“Do you want me to drive?” Tyler offers as we step outside.
“Do you know how to drive on the right side of the road?” I ask suspiciously.
“You mean the wrong side?” He raises his eyebrows and I roll my eyes. “Yes, I do.”
“Fine.” I hand him the key while I throw my backpack on the backseat.