The New Rule: (The Casual Rule 2)

by AC Netzel

  I gasp. Holy shit, that’s my nickname for the Stealth bitch too.

  She tilts her head back and chuckles. “Don’t misunderstand me, I adore Stuart. He’s a wonderful, kind, and patient young man. But he’s as straight as a basketball.”

  I place my hand over my mouth again, stifling a chuckle.

  Finally someone else sees Stuart as a GIND. I knew I didn’t imagine it. God, I adore this woman.

  She continues. “You remind me of myself at your age. Vibrant and full of life. Strong. I’m glad he found you.” She pauses for a minute, looking up at the ceiling then back to me. “I have some things to tell you and a favor to ask.”

  “Of course.”

  “I see the way the young girls look at my grandson; it’s the same way the girls looked at my husband. I practically had to beat them away with a stick… and I would have. You look at him differently.” She smiles at me. The warmth of her smile radiates straight through me. “You love him,” she states simply.

  “Yes,” I say honestly.

  “I know. I see it. I saw it the first time I saw you together at Christmas,” She purses her lips. “The two of you were too stubborn and blind to see what was right in front of you. He loves you too.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I see it in his eyes when he looks at you. Eyes don’t lie. You’ve captured his heart.” She squeezes my hand then cocks her head, pausing for a moment as though she’s lost in a thought. Her eyes widen. “It’s you,” she says in wonder.

  “Me, Mrs. Martin?”

  “You’re the one. His once in a lifetime love.”

  I look down at her frail hand in mine, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. She continues…

  “You make him happy. Promise me you’ll take care of him when I’m gone.”

  “You’re not going anywhere. Ben says you’re the strongest woman he knows.”

  “I’m ready. It’s my time. There were times I wished it were possible for me to trade a few of my days on earth with my husband so we could have spent a little more time together. Even if it were only for an hour, I’d taken it. I miss him. But I suppose I had things left to do here. I have my Leonard waiting for me in heaven. When I die, I know I’ll see him again. I need to know that you’ll take care of my Leonard here on earth.”

  “Mrs. Martin, you’re not going…”

  She cuts me off. “He may appear fine on the outside, but he will not take my passing well. I need you to promise me you’ll take care of him.”

  “Of course. I promise.”

  I realize that for as much as she longs to see her great love again… she needs to get her affairs in order. Her death will happen… eventually, but as long as she still has a purpose here on earth, she’s cheating it.

  “Be patient with him. Remember he loves you when things get hard. Have faith in him.”

  “I will.”

  “Good. Do you like tuna fish?”

  “Tuna, Mrs. Martin?” I furrow my brows. How did we go from a deathbed request to tuna?

  “I’m not the slightest bit hungry, and Leonard is going to come back any minute with a tuna sandwich,” she explains with an amused chuckle.

  I laugh and nod my head. “Yes, I like tuna fish.”

  “What are you two laughing about?” Ben asks as he walks through the door with a wrapped sandwich in hand.

  “That’s our little secret,” she says, winking at me.

  “Plotting against me?” he asks.

  “Not just you, we’re plotting against all mankind.” I wiggle my brows and grin.

  “That’s the last time I leave the two of you alone.” He stands next to my chair. “Do you want your sandwich now?”

  “You know, I think this saline drip they have attached to me filled me up.” She turns her head toward me. “Julia, do you like tuna fish?”

  “Why yes, I do,” I answer with a smirk.

  Ben glances between the two of us skeptically. “Why do I think that was a rehearsed exchange? What have you ladies really been up to?”

  “Oh Leonard, you and your imagination. You should write a book,” she says sarcastically.

  He nods, smiling. “I’ll take that under advisement, Grandmother.”

  After some chit-chat and filling Kitty in on all of Ben’s travels, we decide to call it a night. It’s obvious she’s tired and fading. She won’t rest as long as we’re still here.

  “I’ll drop by tomorrow to see you.” Ben leans down and kisses her cheek. She grabs his hand and holds it.

  “You turned out to be an exceptional young man. Make sure you take care of that lovely girl, or you’ll have me to answer to,” she tells him, eying me.

  “So you both were plotting against me,” he jokes.

  “You figured us out.” I turn to his grandmother. “I’ll see you again soon.” I lean down and kiss her cheek.

  “Remember what we talked about,” she says.

  I nod. “I will,” I assure her.

  Ben glances between the two of us, his brow furrowed.

  “Girl talk,” I explain, grabbing the tuna fish sandwich from his hand.

  “Leonard, can you drop by my place and feed your grandfather?”

  “Of course.”

  I could have sworn the whole time I was talking to her she was lucid, but there must be more than saline dripping from that IV bag. She has to be hopped up on pain meds or sleeping pills or something. She was just talking about how her husband was waiting for her in heaven. Now he’s waiting for dinner at their place? The poor woman is hallucinating. Ben’s grandfather has been dead for years. Ben’s so sweet; he’s playing along.

  We leave the hospital and Ben flags down a taxi. “Do you want to go back to your place?” I ask as we enter the cab.

  “No, I have to feed my grandfather.” Okay, Ben’s lost his mind too. He smirks as he looks at me. “I haven’t lost my mind.”

  How does he do that? It’s like he has a direct line to my brain.

  He redirects his attention to the taxi driver and gives his grandmother’s address and we speed off.

  ~o0o~

  There’s an uncomfortable silence as we walk into the apartment. It feels different without her here. The place is still stunning, but all the warmth is missing. Kitty Martin breathed heart into this place.

  Ben walks into the kitchen and washes a glass he finds sitting in the sink. Everything he’s doing is so mechanical, like he’s trying to busy himself, maybe to escape his thoughts.

  Opening a cupboard door, he removes something then closes the door. He walks over to a window, opening it. I watch curiously from the corner of the room, trying to figure out what he’s doing and wondering if I should call his shrink.

  He extends his fisted hand out the window and opens it over the ledge.

  I walk over to him and admire the breathtaking view of Central Park. It’s a stunning view of trees, green grass, and people. It still amazes me how a park, a vast plot of green earth can be smack dab in the middle of a city buzzing at a million miles an hour. I’ve always thought this park is magical and from this view, even more so.

  I look down and see a messy pile of birdseed on the window’s ledge. I glance up at him, confused.

  He grabs two chairs from the dining room and places them in front of the window. Extending his hand, he gestures for me to sit. So I do.

  “She loves the park. When I was a kid, they’d take me and Elizabeth row boating on the lake there,” he says softly. “My grandfather proposed to my grandmother in a rowboat on the lake, right near Bethesda Fountain. She said it was the most romantic day of her life.” He pauses and stares outside thoughtfully. “When my grandfather was too ill to get around anymore, before he was in the nursing home, they’d sit at this window and watch the Park they loved so much from here. Families, couples young and old, teenagers… everyday they’d sit here and watch the seasons change.

  After he died, she’d still sit here. I’d come by and sit with her as often as I could. We�
�d drink hot chocolate and she’d tell stories about my grandfather. I came by one day and let myself in. The window was opened, and she was talking out loud to no one. I’m not going to lie, I thought she lost it.

  I sat down next to her and asked her if she was alright. She laughed, the first laugh I heard from her since my grandfather died. I was a little conflicted, happy to hear some joy… and afraid she was going off the deep end. Anyway, there was a pigeon, just sitting there, on the window’s ledge. Apparently this pigeon came to visit her every day.

  She made me purchase bird seed so she could feed him. I figured I’d humor her and did what she asked. She started calling the pigeon ‘Leonard’… you know, after my grandfather. She was convinced it was my grandfather visiting her, making sure she wasn’t entertaining other men. This bird would keep her company day in and day out. It comforted a lonely widow who missed her husband. She claims that when she’s gone, she’ll fly away with him. It got to the point, where I was looking forward to seeing the bird.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

  Ben leans back in his chair and sits quietly, lost in his thoughts. I place my hand on his thigh and rub it up and down, to comfort him.

  We sit quietly for ten, fifteen, could be twenty minutes, for all I know. What the clock says is less important than time itself. For the first time, I see the distinction. Time together, however long that is, in whatever form it takes, is all that matters.

  My mind wanders, watching the Park— green, lush and full of life— when I’m startled by a pigeon landing on the ledge.

  “Grandfather, this is Julia,” Ben says, smirking.

  “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Martin,” I say, smiling at Ben and the bird.

  This is the first genuine smile I’ve seen from Ben all day. And it’s lovely.

  The pigeon looks at me, its neck jerks back and forth then it coos. My eyes widen and I startle in my seat. Okay, that was a little weird.

  Ben laughs. “Freaked you out?”

  “No offense, But your grandfather is creepy.”

  “He’s lonely. Pigeons mate for life. He’s waiting for my grandmother.”

  “Creepy and Morbid. You come from a fascinating family tree. Any other flying relatives I should know about?”

  I suspect Elizabitch occasionally flies on a broom, but I’ll keep that to myself.

  He laughs, turning his attention back to the pigeon who’s busy pecking at the pile of birdseed.

  “How do you know you’re getting the same bird? These pigeons all look alike.”

  “See the three iridescent rings circling his leg. That’s how I know.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I don’t know what to believe. In the past fifteen minutes, I learned my boyfriend’s grandfather is a rat with wings. It’s a lot to take in.”

  “Such a skeptic.”

  “I’m a New Yorker. I was born a skeptic.”

  “You’re from New Jersey,” he corrects me.

  “Once you pay taxes in New York, you’re a New Yorker and thereby allowed to make such claims.”

  He takes my hand and kisses the back. “Thank you. You made my grandmother smile. You made today bearable for me.”

  I smile and lift his hand to my lips and kiss it. We watch Leonard the pigeon finish his meal. Once he’s done with the pile of birdseed, he bows his head to Ben and flies off.

  ~o0o~

  Ben walks out of his grandmother’s bedroom into the living room, where I’m sitting on the couch waiting for him, holding a book.

  “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the book.

  “And you’re in the publishing industry,” he jokes.

  “I know it’s a book,” I say, rolling my eyes. “What book is it?”

  “Oliver Twist,” he answers softly. “My grandmother used to read this to my father when he was a boy, then read it to Elizabeth and me when we were kids. I found it in her room. I’m not sure why it was out.”

  “Maybe she wanted you to find it.”

  He sits down next to me with the book in his hand. You can tell this book is an antique by the weathered brown leather cover and binding and shiny gold gilded edges. There’s a distressed leather strap and clasp that holds the book closed. Ben opens the book and takes a breath. You can tell this book was well-read, the yellowed pages are curled slightly at the edges with a few dog-eared at the top. This book was loved.

  He stares down at the book and exhales a long breath. I’m sure his thoughts are flooded with memories. I rest my head on his shoulder.

  “My grandmother used to say that words printed in a book are just words. But once you sit down and read them, they turn into magic.”

  “Would you like to read some to me?” I ask.

  “Okay.”

  I close my eyes and listen to Ben read. His voice steady one second, wavering the next. I make it a point not to look at him; to let him relive the book without feeling he has an audience watching his reaction.

  “You must not talk about dying,” he reads aloud, his voice cracking. I glance over at him. He’s misty eyed and silently staring at the page in front of him.

  I snuggle in closer, as close as I can get to him without sitting on his lap.

  I turn my gaze away from him. It feels intrusive, staring at him in his private moment. He leans his head against mine, closes the book and we sit in silence.

  Chapter 12

  I’m sitting at my work desk, editing the second book in a zombie-clown killer trilogy series when my cell rings. Hearing Ben’s ringtone, I grin and answer it.

  “Hello, handsome. No sexting today? What have I done to deserve an actual phone call? Dirty talk during work hours?”

  “Julia… my grandmother,” he says quietly, his voice cracking. “Can you come to the hospital? Things took a turn last night. I know she’d want you here.”

  “Oh God. Yes. I’ll be right there,” I say, my knee starts bouncing up and down.

  “Okay… as quick as you can.”

  “I’m leaving right now.” Tears are already rolling down my cheeks, my hand shakes uncontrollably.

  “I have to go. I’ll see you when you get here,” he says and the phone line goes dead.

  I feared this day was coming, but hoped I was wrong. Oh God, poor Kitty. Poor Ben, this has to be destroying him.

  I gather my bag and cell phone and knock on Vivian’s door, never waiting for her to answer.

  “Vivian, I have to go. Ben’s grandmother…”

  “Go. Go.” She nods, waving her hands, gesturing for me to leave.

  “I don’t know when I’ll...”

  She cuts me off. “Julia, just go. Give Ben my best.”

  “Thanks.”

  I tear out of the office and push the call button for the elevator.

  “Come on. Come on,” I growl at the closed steel doors. I press the call button five more times. “Get here already.” Finally the elevator pings and the doors slide open.

  Once the elevator reaches the lobby, I dash out then leave the building. Frantically waving my hand in the air, I try to hail a cab while simultaneously running in the direction of the hospital. Finally, I flag a taxi.

  “Saint Andrews Hospital. Please hurry.”

  As the taxi driver zips through the streets of Manhattan, I rummage through my wallet, praying I have enough cash to cover the ride. I unwrap a crumbled Starbucks receipt at the bottom of my bag and find two singles with caked-on powder blush from my opened compact. Dammit.

  A moment of clarity hits me when I remember my emergency cash stash. I unzip the small pocket where I keep my tampons hidden and find a twenty dollar bill. Thank God. I’m good. The last thing I need is the cab driver calling the cops on me for not paying my fare and slowing me down.

  I have to calm myself down. I can’t walk into Kitty’s hospital room in a frenzy. Desperately trying to remember the breathing techniques for relaxation I saw on TV by some famous yoga instructor, I close my eyes. I inhale
deeply through my nose and exhale through my mouth a few times, searching for Zen or inner peace or whatever the fuck you call it. I’m too wound up. It’s not working. Come to think of it, maybe that was Lamaze I was just practicing. I don’t know. I think my brain has stopped functioning.

  Finally, we reach the hospital. I pay my fare and run in the building. After going through security, I make my way to Kitty’s room. Standing at the door, I take a few more deep breaths to calm my nerves. Do I knock? Just walk in? I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. I certainly can’t text Ben and ask.

  A nurse passing by the room recognizes me from the other day. “Just go in,” she assures me.

  “Oh. Okay. Thanks.” Slowly, I push the door open. Everyone in the room turns their heads in my direction as I enter. Ben’s parents are seated in two chairs beside Kitty’s bed. Dick is holding Kitty’s hand. It’s the first sign of human decency I’ve witnessed from him. He looks beaten, like he’s aged ten years. And for as much as I hate some things he’s done, I can’t hate him now. He’s watching his mother die and that’s heartbreaking.

  Ben’s sister is standing next to them; her eyes are puffy and red. My secret friend, Stuart, is standing in the far corner of the room, fussing over the floral arrangements.

  Kitty is lying in her bed, her eyes closed, sleeping. I guess. I hope. Ben is standing at the foot of the bed. He walks over to me, placing his hand on the base of my back and without saying a word, leads me to the side of the bed opposite of where Dick and Beverly are seated.

  The IV stand is no longer there. The tubes connected to her arm are gone. There’s only a heart monitor and Kitty peacefully asleep.

  “You can say hello. She may hear you,” Ben whispers.

  I nod, leaning down. “Hi, Mrs. Martin. It’s Julia,” I whisper, placing my hand on her forearm.

  Her eyelids flutter and she opens her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at me.

  “Remember what I asked,” she whispers so low, it’s barely audible.

  I nod, tears brimming in my eyes. “I’ll take care of him. I promise.”