Retreat to Love

by Greene, Melanie

  I didn’t have anything to say to anyone until we were sitting on the guest bed, door shut, lights off, and relatives gone quiet in the other rooms.

  I closed my eyes and tipped my skull back against the headboard.

  “Ash? You okay?”

  I shook my head.

  “I know. I mean, I know you’re not okay. But, do you want to talk?”

  I sank down, then, hugging one of the pillows, and looked at him. Caleb Kendall. There was something in his eyes, something sweet beyond just the love, something that took my spirit and gently wrapped it in cotton and held it warm against his own.

  “Oh, love, I can’t begin to say the mess of stuff on my mind.”

  “Do you want to try, or do you just want to go to sleep?”

  I sighed again. “I want to, I don’t know. I want to talk, but some of it’s too painful, and some of it’s so, I guess, so petty it makes me mad at myself, and I don’t want you to see how ridiculous I am, and I’m sure you’re sick of my crying all over you, too.”

  “No I’m not.”

  “Well, you should be. I’m sick of my crying all over you.”

  “Well, I’m not, regardless. You can cry and scream and tell me whatever you want, and I’m not, no, I’m not, Ash, going to think worse of you for it. I love you. I like you. I know you’re in knots, and I know you’re blaming yourself for things not your fault. They’re not. I’ve been listening to the doctors all day, and I’m telling you. It’s nobody’s fault, okay? Not yours or your mom’s or your grandfather’s or anyone. So stop thinking that, okay? Please?”

  I shook. Not my head—all of me. I shook. “I can’t.”

  “Well, do.”

  “No, Caleb, I can’t. It was hypertension, they said it was hypertension. You heard them. That’s stress. Stress, Caleb. And she’s never had stress before, no high blood pressure, nothing. Her heart, her heart was in great shape.”

  He pulled tissues from the box on his side of the bed. “This wasn’t her heart, Ash. It was her brain. It’s a brain attack, you can have the best heart in the world and still have one, okay?”

  “Not five days after your granddaughter tells you this horrible news and not have it be related.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “No.”

  “Ash. Ashlyn, listen. You can, okay? She can. I listened to those doctors, okay? It’s not good, where she’s at now. It’s not good, and I can’t even tell you how sad that makes me for you, for you all, but I swear, you can’t go blaming yourself.”

  I let him tell me that. I mean, he wasn’t going to agree with me, no matter what I said, we both knew it. We settled under the covers and I let him rub my back until I fell asleep, but I only did it for him.

  But at two o’clock, I was wide awake again, Caleb’s warmth the only thing keeping me in bed beside him. I knew, then, what I’d have to do, and the knowledge, thinking about it, stung my dry desert eyes, until once again, I fell asleep.

  We were all up, showered, somewhat fed, and waiting in the chairs for them to let the first two of us in by six the next morning. Gran had had an uneventful night. Although there was now another patient in the bed next to Gran, the shift nurse said, just for the six o’clock visits, we could still go in two at a time. Starting at eight, we’d have to follow the rules. Matthew and Bernadette, bleary and subdued, went first.

  “How are you feeling?” Caleb whispered as we waited.

  “Humph. Don’t ask,” I muttered back. Even without the tears and guilt, there were the nights on end of short, bad sleeps and the diet of coffee and sugary bread.

  “Poor baby,” he answered with a hug to my shoulders. He’d almost said ‘babe’, but caught himself in time.

  It was my turn, Uncle Matthew indicated with a half-smile at me when he emerged from behind the swinging doors. Caleb pressed my hand as I stood, and the strength of his touch carried me through the now-routine procedure of getting in the ICU ward and navigating past the profusion of gurneys and equipment to Gran’s semi-private room.

  It’s hard to describe, the differences between that morning and the night before. She wasn’t exactly smaller, but she was flatter somehow. She did look more relaxed, which gave me pause. It was darker in the room—the only window faced west and the curtain was pulled. Bernadette said something about keeping the biorhythms going with natural day-night patterns of light, but I didn’t know if that was from her or the medical team. She was gone for less than a minute before Zach came in to join me.

  We held hands. It felt strange; comforting, but strange. We hadn’t held hands for a dozen years or more. And Caleb’s hand was broader than his; Zach’s long fingers seemed cool and gangly in comparison.

  “I think she’s slipping, sis.”

  I shook my head.

  “Sis.”

  “I know, Zach, I know, okay? I just don’t want to talk about it in front of her.”

  I could see him trying to fight the emotional reaction with the logic of what we’d been told, but with a sigh he just said, “Okay. Sorry.”

  “Forget it. I’m sorry.” Drawing a deep breath, I stepped from him and leaned over Gran. I smoothed back her hair, tried to fluff it on top a bit the way she liked, and adjusted the oxygen tube where it was pushing into her cheek. I kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay? Frank’s going to come in for a little while, then after the doctor makes his rounds, I’ll come back.”

  Gran didn’t even exhale noticeably. I caught my tear before it landed on her, and turned to walk away.

  Frank turned insistent on us. Taking Matthew’s bag and Bernadette’s backpack, he handed Zach a twenty and sent us to the cafeteria while he drove them home.

  “I know it’s not looking good,” I told Zach as we walked, “and I know she’s not supposed to be able to hear us, but I don’t care. I don’t care. I’m not going to stand there in front of her and talk about how bad she’s doing like she’s not a part of the conversation.” Zach, bless him, wasn’t offended. He didn’t take it as defensive, just as emotional.

  “Okay, Ash. I can do that. I’m—I guess I’m worried about how you’re taking this, cause I am just not getting a lot of good feeling off of you.”

  “I didn’t expect you would.”

  “You know what I mean. You’re tense and conflicted and vibrating with worry. If something happens to Gran, I don’t want you to fall apart. I want to help you get ready.”

  We were staring at the line-up in the cafeteria. Caleb was looking at us, I realized, waiting for a break so he could steer us towards some food. I bit my lips and told him I’d eat some eggs, I guessed. Zach said him, too. No coffee. Caleb nodded and sent us to a nearby empty table. The place was full of people in scrubs, some in suits, some as weary and faded looking as I felt.

  Carefully, I answered Zach. “Thanks. I know you’re trying to do your best for me, and I know you’re torn up with worry, too, so it’s not easy.” I sighed. “And I know she’s not okay. I know what the doctor is avoiding coming out and saying.”

  Caleb sat down between us and started parceling out plates and cups of tea. He offered me some orange juice, and I shook my head. “If she, if Gran dies, I’m going to be a mess, okay? I mean, I’m already a mess. But, that’s okay, I think. I know it might happen, and I can’t get ready for it somehow, I can’t meditate and reach acceptance about it. I just can’t. If it happens, I will figure out what to do next. And,” I took both their hands—broad, thin, both gentle, “I know how lucky I am you two are here for me, I know how much you love me and want to protect me. Believe me, it’s already helped more than I can tell you. So thanks.”

  “Oh, Ash,” mumbled Caleb, dropping his forehead to our linked fingers. “My sweet Ashlyn.”

  Zach was watching us, his brow furrowed and not quite crying. “Thanks, too, sis.”

  I handed him a napkin, which he used to dab at his eyes. “Zach, what about you? I never ask you how you’re doing.”

  He shrugged and stirred his te
a. “About what you’d expect, I guess. I’m sad and worried and just want her to get better so we can all go home and be happy.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

  Caleb sat back and breathed deeply. “You guys need to eat. That’s good protein there, now, come on. And all the fruit, too, even the grapes, Ash. Eat.”

  We all relaxed a little. It was good, right then, to have someone tell us what to do, and it was good for Caleb to have us listen, to have us respond to his concern.

  We still had an hour before we could see her again. Caleb wouldn’t even let us go back up to check in with the nurses, leading us out to the park across the street instead. We walked several blocks of it, watching some ducks at one point and some golfers in the distance at another. The day was warming up quickly, a sign of the blazing summer moving in soon. Zach pointed out a brown-headed nuthatch, which was one of Gran’s favorite birds. After that, we just turned and went back to the waiting room, silently.

  Dr. Erie had just finished his rounds, and nodded solemnly to us. I didn’t feel like talking to him; I needed to concentrate on what I was going to say to Gran, instead. Caleb and Zach stood in the corridor, gravely listening to the morning report, and didn’t mention a word of it to me when they sat down. The others returned, looking somewhat fresher but no less shell shocked.

  It was eight o’clock.

  Matthew went in first.

  After a few pacing moments, Bernadette stood in front of the doors, waiting, and then they switched places.

  Matthew stood at the window, crying, and I stared at him until Bernadette came out, sniffling herself, and Zach nudged me.

  “You go next,” I told him.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  So he went, and I looked at Frank, and he gazed into my face for a long moment, and told me, “I’m not going to go this time, sweetie. You take the last minutes.”

  Breathe in, Ashlyn. Breathe out. I didn’t look at anyone else, just stood, holding my elbows in my hands, and watched people walking up and down the halls until Zach opened the doors and held it for me to enter. Our hands touched briefly as we passed, but we didn’t say anything.

  There I was, alone with my Gran. My breath was shuddery, and I forced it still, so I could talk to her. As I spoke, my eyes flickered to the monitors, anxious, desperate to know she did hear me, but desperate to know she didn’t, as well.

  “Hey, Granny bug.” I held her hand, and knelt on the floor by her head. The same way Zach had when he’d come to tell me about her. Yesterday? Only yesterday. “Hey, there. I love you. You know that, I know you know that. We know each other, huh? That’s what we always said, so why am I sitting here talking to you like, I don’t know. Like you’re a stranger or something? I’m sorry.” I pressed her hand and then got up to pace. I opened the curtain fully. The sun was beginning to creep across the roof of the building below. It had a plastic owl shunting back and forth on a pole, looking far too large and chipped to fool any pigeons.

  Again, I held Gran’s hand, this time perched on the bed beside her. “Here’s the thing, Gran. Here’s what’s what. Caleb keeps insisting that what I told you, it has nothing to do with how you ended up here. But I can’t accept that. I know you too well.” Before I exhaled, I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, imagining the darkness behind Gran’s own eyelids. “I’d already told him about it before I told you; I hope that’s okay. I needed to talk to someone before I could tell you. He won’t tell Zach, he never would.” Her face was almost void of color. Parchment. “And that’s what I want to tell you, too. I won’t tell, either. No matter what, Gran. I’ll never tell my mom or Zach or anyone, I swear. I won’t try and find them in Ireland. Even when everyone’s gone, when I’m a grandmother myself. I won’t tell, okay? It’s my promise to you, Gran. It’s,” so hard to talk through the shuddery tears, “it’s what I need you to know, now, to believe from me. I don’t want you to lack peace about it. I don’t want you to worry.”

  I was still holding her hand in my two, and as I turned my head to wipe my face on my sleeve, I saw the nurse standing near the door. I sat up. “Is it time?”

  She nodded, and I nodded in return.

  I stood, but still held onto Gran. Still held her. I bent close to her ear. I kissed her cheek, her pale but still smooth cheek. I whispered, “I love you, Gran, with all my heart. You have my word now.” And then I kissed her one more time before I said, “Bye, Gran.” and stood, placing her hand on her stomach.

  The nurse held the door for me. She’d just started to close it when I heard the monitors beeping, and then she was no longer there, and then another nurse and a doctor brushed past me into the room. Slowly, I pushed the door back open, in time for the doctor to glance at her watch and say, “Eight twenty-one a.m.” and turn off the high-pitched wail. She glanced at me and said, “I’m sorry,” and then the first nurse was back at my side.

  It had only been sixty seconds since we’d last stood in the doorway together.

  In that time, my Gran had died.

  Chapter 19

  And there I was, alone again. I crept back up to Gran, brushed back her hair, and laid my fingertips against the cool of her cheek, not wanting to touch her but not wanting any of my touches to be the last. The nurse came to put her arm across my shoulders and next thing I realized we were standing in front of my family in their chairs. She must have been well practiced in gently moving immobile people.

  Matthew and Bernadette didn’t get it at first. They thought it was my sadness at seeing Gran so ill. But Frank knew. He read it in our posture, in the generically kind face of the nurse beside me. She transferred my body to him, and he held me and said to Bernadette, “Love, she’s gone.”

  “She’s?”

  “She’s gone, love.” And then I was passed to Caleb and Frank was holding Bernadette and Zach and Matthew were staring at each other like they were drowning and the other was a distant life vest. The nurse still hovered, but closer to the doors. Caleb sank us into a chair and I couldn’t hear anybody’s words, although they were talking. Everyone just kept talking. It seemed to go on for days, the talking. Through us heading back to Frank and Bernadette’s house, through the phone calls and the meeting of Uncle Dermot at the airport and the awkwardly genial presence of Mr. and Mrs. Weimer, who made a tuna casserole only Dermot and Zach could eat.

  Gran had made all of her own arrangements. It was a very Gran thing to do, said Aunt Elizabeth when she called Frank to offer her condolences. She sent a rubber plant, too. Zach lobbied briefly for the apple green dressing gown, but we decided instead on a navy dress with subtle green and white flowers across the bodice. It matched her favorite handbag, so we buried her with that, too, stuffed with photos of us all and her girlhood locket with the last picture of her sister Berneen.

  Somewhere along the way I’d told Caleb we could get him a bus back to Wimberley, but he said no, he’d already emailed Margie we’d be a while longer. With Matthew, we moved over to Gran’s house after Uncle Dermot arrived, Caleb borrowing some clothes off Zach, and disappearing for a couple of hours one morning only to return with a charcoal suit.

  He shrugged. “I needed a new one anyway.”

  I sighed—I wasn’t manage much speak in Gran’s house without Gran there to speak back—and we held hands on the sofa for a while. The funeral was the next morning, and every time I started to actually hear all the words flowing around me, I thought of it and stopped being able to hear anything.

  After lunch, Zach and Caleb ambushed me.

  “Sis, on Monday we’re driving back.”

  “Okay.”

  “You, too,” added Caleb.

  I shook my head. “I need to stay here.”

  “Why?”

  I just stared at them. Wasn’t it obvious? “Because.”

  “No, seriously, Ash. Why?”

  “Just because, okay?”

  “No, not okay.”

  “Ash,” Caleb said. “Love, you need to get a
way for a bit. You’ll be back in a few weeks.”

  “Bernadette can’t take care of this house stuff on her own.”

  “Dermot and Matthew are going to stay all this week and maybe next. Frank’s got all kinds of people in to cover the store so she won’t have to work for at least a month. You’ll be back by then.”

  God, there really had been tornadoes of words around me. I had no idea. “You can’t make me.”

  “Sis, no one’s trying to make you do anything. But this is what makes sense, for everyone.”

  Every time I opened my mouth my lips clung together a moment too long. “So you’re saying I’m just in the way?”

  “No one’s saying that, love.” Caleb’s hand on my arm. His gentle touch I’d barely been without since the hour of Gran’s death. “They’re saying you should get away from here for a bit. Staying here in your Gran’s house is just going to rip you apart every day and it’d be better if you let them work on it first.”

  But what if they did it wrong? What if Gran had left behind some evidence of the Pappa thing, and they came to me for an explanation? What if they gave her favorite tea mug to the United Way? Looking at Caleb, beseeching him silently to understand what I couldn’t talk about in front of Zach, I started to shake again.

  He shushed me. “Ash, I promise, it’s okay. This is the best thing. You need to get out of here. Just for a while.”

  I was still shaking my head, but the looks Caleb and Zach were trading proved they knew they’d gotten their way with me. It made me mad that they ganged up on me, but I didn’t have a lot of energy just then to battle them. I just hugged them both and went to be alone for my afternoon nap.

  The funeral. Well, looking back, I can describe parts of it. The Sunday crowd in their somber Sunday best. The unnatural heat of the day, or the natural heat combined with the unnatural warmth of dark clothes and hosiery and too many people too close together. It was a lot of people, more than I expected. Between the neighbors and Gran’s book club pals and friends from the store and the people who just knew her from her congregation and wanted to pay their respects, it was upwards of forty souls coming together in the little chapel to say goodbye.