I had told Ryan not to tell them, but he wanted to come out at school, and he figured he should come out to them first. Big mistake, I thought, looking at his rapidly swelling face. Obviously.
“Your father did this?” Grandma asked. Her expression was thunderous. Oh boy. A storm was definitely brewing in the kitchen.
Ryan nodded.
“Because you told him you’re gay?”
Another nod.
“Hold this,” she handed the ice pack to Ryan. “I’m going to have a word with your parents.”
“Grandma…”
“Don’t ‘Grandma’ me!” Her eyes were blazing. “This…” She gestured at Ryan’s bruised face. “This is not all right. And it’s certainly not ‘Christian.’”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Robinson,” Ryan told her.
“No, son. It most certainly is not.” She slammed the door behind her as she stormed out to confront Ryan’s parents.
My grandfather looked thoughtful.
“Nikâwiy—my mother—was a Christian woman,” he said. “She had two sons. Me and my brother, George. She taught us that Creator loved us.” He reached out and shifted the ice that Ryan was holding so that it better covered the swollen spot under his eye. He nodded. “George had a secret for a long time. I thought it was a girlfriend, but when I’d tease him or ask who it was, he’d get upset. I thought it must be some girl from school—someone off the rez. But it wasn’t. And his secret was killing him. He didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Nikâwiy finally sat him down one night and told him that he could trust her. She would love him no matter what was going on. I listened from the stairs where no one could see me, and I heard my brother crying, admitting that the person he loved was another boy.”
I was staring at my grandfather. I didn’t know my Uncle George—he had died before I was born—but I know I had seen photos of him with his partner. But I had never heard my grandfather talk about him like this. Ryan was studying him through his one good eye.
“Nikâwiy told him that Creator doesn’t make mistakes. He was exactly as he was supposed to be, and anyone who thought any differently could deal with her.” He glanced at me. “Your grandmother reminds me of her in that way.” He looked back at Ryan and smiled kindly. “There’s nothing wrong with you, son. No matter what your parents say. You’re exactly who you’re supposed to be. And if you’re lucky enough to fall in love, don’t you worry about what anyone else thinks. Love is a gift.” He took Ryan’s hand in his work-worn one and squeezed it gently.
Tears spilled down Ryan’s face as he nodded at Grandpa.
Grandma walked back in then, her face no less thunderous than when she had walked out.
“How did it go?” I asked, dreading the answer.
She tossed a bag down on the floor.
“Ryan, you’ll stay with us for a while,” she said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Promposal
That’s what I loved about my grandmother. She didn’t take shit from anyone. She despised intolerance and scoffed at so-called Christians who twisted the Bible to suit themselves.
“That’s not my Creator,” she’d say. I respected that. I guess I felt the same way.
“Are you coming?” Ryan was already out of the car.
“Sorry! Yeah. I’m coming.”
I had been going to school with the same kids for so long that every day was basically just like any other. Ryan was immediately scouting the hall for his crush. I waved to Amy from my drama class and nodded to the kid who sat behind me in math. A group of boys on the basketball team high-fived Ryan and ignored me. So, like every other day.
“I’ll see you at lunch?” Ryan asked as I stopped at my locker. We shared afternoon classes, but I was on my own for drama and gym in the morning.
“For sure.” I gave him a hug, like always, and headed to my first class. Drama first thing in the morning was tough when you weren’t a morning person, but it was far preferable to starting the day off with gym. Drama was something I had loved since my grandparents had started taking me to see plays when I was a kid. There was something about getting lost in someone else’s story for a couple of hours that I couldn’t get enough of. Maybe because my own story hadn’t been anything much to write about. I craved stories about happy families when I was young. Now I just hungered for a great story and characters I cared about.
We did improv, which normally I think I’m pretty good at. Maybe not so much first thing in the morning. But since the first rule of improv is to always say yes, I just kind of went with it when my partner asked me if I was a good dog, and I spent the next twenty minutes on my hands and knees, barking at everyone and grabbing Mr. Rosenwald’s sleeve in my teeth. The class roared, which woke me up enough to get me to gym and to actually hit the volleyball over the net a few times.
I showered and dressed quickly. It was pizza day in the cafeteria, and my mouth was watering already just thinking of the gooey, melty cheese and the salty bite of the pepperoni. The hallway was already teeming with kids heading to the caf, but since Ryan’s last class before lunch was right down the hall, I knew he’d already be there, saving me a seat. And with any luck, he had grabbed me a slice before the line got too long.
I came to a dead stop in the doorway to the cafeteria, causing a bit of a pileup and getting me elbowed in the back for my negligence. Ryan was, indeed, sitting at our usual table, but he wasn’t alone. Thomas was perched on the edge, smiling down at him.
I couldn’t help it. I felt a twinge of jealousy. Seeing them together…I don’t know how to explain it. I was happy Ryan had met someone. Especially someone as nice as Thomas. But it also made me feel, for the first time in my life, like a third wheel. I knew Ryan would try to include me if he ended up dating Thomas. (And it was looking like that really was going to happen.) But seeing things change right before my eyes hit me harder than I thought it would. I wanted him to be happy. He deserved that more than anyone. But I couldn’t help feeling—maybe selfishly—that it meant that everything was going to change. It wouldn’t be me and Ryan anymore. And I wasn’t sure how I was going to deal with that.
I pasted a smile on my face and moved out of the way, walking toward our table.
“Hey, Lucky!” Ryan was beaming. I felt terrible suddenly even thinking for a second about how his dating Thomas would affect me.
“Hey. Hi, Thomas.”
“Hi, Lucky.” Thomas smiled. “Sorry. I’m in your way, aren’t I?”
“No, you’re fine. I’ll just sit over here.” I pointed to a chair on the other side of the table, not at all close to the spot beside Ryan where I usually sat.
“Oh, no. I’ll move. I have to go anyway. The basketball team has a meeting to talk about fundraising.”
“Let me know if you need any help,” Ryan told him. “I’m great at fundraising.”
I literally couldn’t think of a single time he had ever raised money for anything. But Thomas was smiling down at him in a way that was making the tips of Ryan’s ears turn pink.
“I might take you up on that. I’ll see you guys later.” He waved, dashing off toward the door and, I assumed, the gym. Ryan stared after him, a pretty adorable grin on his face.
“So? Did you ask him yet?” I asked, pulling one of the slices of pizza he had bought toward me. It was pretty obvious to everyone that Thomas was into Ryan too. They’d been dancing around it for most of the school year. But Ryan—being Ryan—wanted it to be spectacular.
“No! Do you seriously think I’m the kind of person who would ask the man of my dreams out in the middle of the cafeteria?” he shuddered.
“Sorry.” I rolled my eyes at him, biting into the lukewarm pizza. It was still pretty good. “I’m really not sure what you’re waiting for.”
“I haven’t worked out the logistics yet.”
“The logistics? It’s a date, Ryan.”
“It’s prom, Lucky!” He was outraged. “It’s got to be perfect. Absolutely memorable.”
“You’re not still thinking about getting doves, are you? No one wants to be shit on by doves at their promposal, Ryan.”
“No. I’m not having doves. But what about a puppy?”
“Why do you have to have live animals?” I asked.
“Puppies are cute!”
This went on for longer than I’m proud of. It literally continued through both math class and English, where we passed notes back and forth. We were still arguing when we got in his car and when we pulled into my driveway.
“Do you want to come in for a while?” I asked him, effectively putting an end to an incredibly odd conversation about the merits of using teacup pigs to ask Thomas out.
“Nah. I promised my aunt I’d help her with dinner.”
Probably a good thing. I’d eaten his aunt’s cooking.
“All right. Tell Aunt Maggie hi.”
“I will. And I’ll text you later if I come up with anything for the promposal.”
“I’ll be waiting breathlessly,” I promised.
Much as I teased him, I was hoping it would all go off without a hitch. He deserved that. No one deserved a happily ever after more than Ryan after what he’d been through with his parents.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Grandpa
I let the door slam shut behind me. I knew Grandma hated that, but the usual shout from the kitchen didn’t come.
“Grandma?” I called out.
“Shhh!” She bustled down the stairs in front of me. “Your grandfather isn’t feeling well. He’s lying down.”
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked. Grandpa was never sick. He always seemed immune to all the colds that Grandma and I usually passed back and forth.
“I don’t know,” she fussed. “He’s poorly.” She pushed past me and started banging around in the kitchen. Probably making soup. She always made soup no matter what the ailment. Soup cured everything, she always said.
I tiptoed up the stairs, hoping to make it to my room without disturbing my grandfather or incurring the wrath of Grandma.
“Lucky?”
Crap.
“Yeah, Grandpa?” I pushed his bedroom door open. He was under the blankets. I wasn’t sure that I had ever seen him in bed during the day before. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine. You know your grandmother.” His voice sounded weak. That scared me more than anything else. He looked pale in the light streaming through the window. Grandma hadn’t drawn the curtains.
“Are you sure? You look pale. Do you have a cold?” I sat on the bed beside him.
“Just a little indigestion,” he promised.
“Are you sure?” I touched his forehead. It was clammy. “Grandpa, maybe you should go to the hospital.”
“Lucky, I’m fine,” he groused. “I’ll just take a nap and be good as new.”
“Okay. But I’m going to check on you later,” I said. He nodded, closing his eyes before I had even made it off the bed.
CHAPTER NINE
The Walk
Grandpa slept through dinner.
Grandma went up with a tray of soup and freshly baked bread around six o’clock, but brought it back down with her moments later.
“He’s asleep, bless him,” she said, putting the tray down on the counter and dumping the soup back into the steaming pot before giving it a stir.
“Is he okay?” I asked. She nodded.
“Right as rain,” she promised. “He just needs a bit of a rest. I’ll take him a tray later,” she said.
I heard the front door close before I could register that she was gone. I got up and looked out the window, catching a glimpse of her walking purposefully down the street. It was cold out, but she had left her sweater draped over the arm of her chair.
I headed out after her, taking the front steps two at a time to catch up.
“Grandma? Grandma!” I called at her back. She ignored me. I caught up to her at the end of the street, just as she was about to step into the road. Right in the path of an oncoming car.
“Grandma!” I pulled her back. She spun on me, frowning.
“What?” she asked, rubbing at her bare arms, which were covered in goose bumps.
“Where are you going?”
I pulled my hoodie off and put it around her.
“What are you talking about?” She was trying to shrug off my hoodie.
“It’s cold out here, Grandma. Just wear it. Where were you going?”
“I’m not going anywhere!” she shouted.
“Well…” I was at a loss. “You’re outside…”
“Of course I’m outside! I’m going home! Can’t a woman go home when she wants to?”
“Yeah…but you were home, Grandma. You left.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, tears filling her eyes. I reached for her, but she slapped at my hands.
“I’m just trying to take you home, Grandma,” I told her, using the low, calm voice I had heard my grandfather use with her when she had what he called “one of her spells.” “Do you want to go home?”
She nodded.
“Okay. We’ll go home. Grandpa’s probably getting hungry,” I told her.
“He had dinner already,” she argued.
“Right,” I said, knowing he hadn’t eaten. “Well maybe a snack then?”
She nodded again.
“I could make some soup,” she said. “Soup is good when you’re feeling poorly.”
“Yes it is,” I said, leading her back to the house.
CHAPTER TEN
911
“Lucky! Lucky, help! Oh God, please help me!”
I woke up to screams.
“Grandma?” I was groggy, but when she screamed again, I flew out of bed and down the hall. “Grandma!”
I was in their room in an instant and was met with the horrifying sight of my grandmother standing over my grandfather who was splayed out on the floor.
“What happened?” I asked, falling to the floor and shaking him. “Grandpa!”
“He’s sick,” she sobbed. “He said he didn’t feel right. He grabbed his chest and fell down. He won’t wake up, Lucky. Please make him wake up!”
“Grandpa!” I was on the floor beside her, pushing her hands away from him so I could see. Oh god. He was so pale. “Grandpa?” I put my head on his chest. I didn’t hear a heartbeat. “Call 911!” I screamed. “Grandma! Call 911! Now!” She nodded and ran from the room. “Okay. Okay. Hang on, Grandpa. You’re going to be fine.”
I put my hands over the center of his chest and started pressing.
“One, two, three, four…” I counted. Pressing down. Watching for any sign that he was still…there. “Come on, Grandpa. Breathe. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…” I kept pressing into his chest, praying to God to feel the thump of his heart under my hands. “Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty.”
I tilted his head back, pinching his nostrils. “Come on, Grandpa, please!” I breathed into his mouth for a count of two. Waited. Breathed again. “Come on!”
“Is he okay?”
Grandma was in the doorway, holding the phone in her hand. I started compressions again.
“Did you call? Three, four, five…” She nodded. I heard the siren in the background suddenly. “Eight, nine, ten, eleven…. Go let them in, Grandma. I’ll stay here. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…. Come on, Grandpa!”
The next few minutes were a blur. The paramedics pushed me out of the way, and I ended up standing against the wall, hugging my grandmother while she sobbed into my chest.
“He’s going to be okay,” I murmured, praying it was true.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Gone
I c
losed the door after the last guest had left. We now had a freezer full of casseroles and roasts and a refrigerator full of cheese plates, cold cuts, and enough fruit salad to feed an army.
But it was just the two of us.
It would only ever be just the two of us.
And the house was unbearably empty without Grandpa in it.
The world was unbearably empty.
I looked at my grandmother. She had aged a decade since Grandpa died.
“Do you want me to run you a bath?” I asked her, touching her arm gently.
She started.
“Christina?” she asked.
Shit.
“No, Grandma. It’s me. Lucky. Christina’s daughter?”
I touched her arm gently. She stared at me for a minute.
“Lucky?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
We had these little exchanges a few times a day now. She’d forget I was there. Or forget she was. Or forget I was me. Touching her seemed to bring her back. But it was back to a world without the person who had taken care of her for longer than I’d been alive, and it was a void I didn’t know how to fill.
“What were you saying?”
“I asked if you’d like a bath, Grandma.”
“No thank you, dear.”
“Tea?”
She smiled. It was like a light went on and off behind her eyes. When it was off, she thought I was her daughter. Or she forgot where she was. When it was off, Grandma was gone. When it was on, she was right here with me.
“Tea would be lovely. Thank you.”
“You go sit down and I’ll bring it to you. Maybe there’s a movie on TV.”
She shuffled off down the hall, her shoulders hunched. She hadn’t stood up straight since Grandpa died.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bacon
The smell of bacon woke me up. Burning bacon. I opened my eyes, nostrils assaulted by the acrid smell. It wasn’t even light out yet.
I stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was empty, but there was a pan on the stove that held something that must have once been bacon. It was on fire.
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