I'll Be the One

by Hazel James

  “Well, you’d better make sure you’ve updated your will so we know who gets what.” Her laughter mixes in with the sound of the teakettle, and I try my best to commit the sound to memory. I fix her cup and set it on the counter next to her.

  “Do you have a will?”

  “Sure, all of us old fogies do.” She plates a waffle and passes me the maple syrup before turning back to the waffle iron. “Don’t you worry, I’ll make sure you get your blue cup.”

  “Gran, why are you and Grandpa really moving to Florida?” From my seat at the table, I watch her purses her lips briefly.

  “It’s time for us to relax. Your grandpa has worked very hard and we feel like we need a break.”

  “But why Florida? Why not stay here?”

  “Florida has a lot to offer us. You’ll see. Maybe you can check out the colleges down there too. I hear Spring Break is pretty good.” She turns and wiggles her eyebrows at me. I suppose I should be mildly grossed out that my grandma is making an off-color comment, but I learned all of my best dirty jokes from her.

  “I want to get back up here as quickly as possible. Florida doesn’t have Rachel, and that’s all I care about.”

  “I didn’t realize it was quite that serious with you two.”

  “Neither does anyone else in this family.” It comes out more bitter than I intended, but it’s true. “And please don’t give me the bit about my age. I know I’m young and I have my whole life ahead of me, blah, blah, blah.”

  “You are young. But like I told you before, the heart knows what it wants. It’s everything else that gets in the way.”

  “Yeah, like grandparents who sell their farm.” I give her a sidelong glance as I take another bite. “I just hope Rachel’s in school today. She was out yesterday and won’t answer my phone calls.”

  “Did y’all get in a fight after you left here?”

  “I guess somewhere between our house and hers, she decided she didn’t want to spend another month together. She said it would make it harder to say goodbye. If she’s not in school today, I wanna stop by her house before I go to the Sweet Pea. You think I can make it in time?”

  “Where does she live?”

  “In that big blue house on Kestwick past Andrews Street.” Gran puts the last waffle in the pan and stows it in the microwave, away from Lazarus’ reach.

  “What time does your shift start?”

  “Three-thirty.”

  “Hmm. That might be cutting it awfully close. I’d say skip it and try talking to her tomorrow.”

  I was afraid she was going to say that. “Thanks for the waffles, Gran.” I stand to clear my plate and cross the kitchen to give her a hug on the way to the sink. The minute my arm circles her shoulder, the pain in my chest explodes. My plate crashes to the floor and shatters. I hear her hollering at Lazarus to stay away before a whoosh of ringing floods my ears. Each beat of my heart feels harder than the last, and memories of Gran flash through my mind.

  When I was four, she bought me a kids’ shaving set so I could be just like my grandpa. She hung an eight-by-ten picture of my shaving cream beard in the living room. For my tenth birthday, she bought me a pair of rollerblades. I wore them every day until my feet grew out of them. When we visited two summers ago, she pulled me aside and gave me a new wallet. That night I found twenty dollars and a condom tucked inside. I never had to use it, but I appreciated the gesture all the same. The last image, the one that brings me to my knees on the kitchen floor, is of me, Mom and Grandpa on a beach spreading Gran’s ashes. Mom still has pink and purple streaks in her hair.

  Mom never leaves her hair the same way for longer than six months.

  No.

  No!

  NO!

  Gran leads me back to the kitchen table as sobs take over my body. She makes calming noises, and her fingertips trace a soothing pattern over my face. She used to do this when I was sick. I swear it was medicinal, because I always ended up feeling better. Not this time. Mom would be freaking out right now, wondering what’s wrong with me, but Gran’s always been good about letting me speak when I’m ready. We sit like this for a while, me losing my shit, and her trying to patch me back together.

  “H-how long have you been sick?” I manage to say once my breathing has returned to a more normal state.

  “Off and on for about three years.” Her voice is calm, which I find impossible given the situation.

  “How bad is it now?”

  “Terminal.”

  “How long?”

  “They said six months to a year.” The noise that comes from my mouth is what I imagine a bear that slammed his paw in a car door would make. No matter where we lived, Gran has always been around. I can’t imagine waking up one day and not having her here with me. The thought brings a new round of sobs from me and Gran’s calming noises and soothing fingertips.

  “How’d you know?” she asks several minutes later.

  I take a deep breath. I need a moment to figure out how to tell her without getting into the psychic stuff. “When I gave you a hug, I remembered more of the dream that woke me up. You died too. And now all the signs make sense. Your hair’s thinner. You haven’t been eating much. I noticed a few weeks ago that you look frailer, but I thought that was just because you’re old.”

  “Watch it, buck-o. This old lady had great sex last night. My age doesn’t stop me from living, and neither does this disease.”

  “God, Gran! There are some things I just do not need to know.” I can’t help but laugh, though, and I’m sure that was her point. I pick my head off the table and wipe my face.

  “There now. That’s better.” She pats my cheek and brings me my blue cup with fresh coffee.

  “You said it’s been off and on for a few years. Why didn’t you tell me or Mom? And what do you have, anyway?”

  “Colon cancer. The doctors were optimistic when I first went in, so your grandpa and I felt that we didn’t need to worry y’all. I had a little bit of chemo and things looked good for a while. I had a relapse a couple of years ago and had surgery. Last fall, I had another relapse. Turns out, it spread to my liver. We told your mom, and she said she’d move home as soon as I wanted her to.”

  “So that’s why we came here right before Christmas?”

  “It is.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that it might be our last one together?”

  “I didn’t see any sense in having people cry in their turkey and stuffing. Knowing about my cancer doesn’t change anything. It just makes people sad.”

  “Why do you not seem more upset by all of this?”

  “What’s to be upset about? We’re all gonna die, James. Some just do it faster than others.”

  “I may not have grown up in this house, but this has always been the most ‘home’ that I’ve ever had. Now, everything’s being taken away. You. This house. Your pies.” I offer a small smile.

  “The folks at the hospital are gonna miss my pies too,” she laughs.

  “Is that why you always take pies to the hospital? Because you had appointments?”

  “I decided I wanted to be remembered for something greater than cancer at the hospital. And it worked, too. I’d walk through the door and their tongues would start wagging.”

  “How does Grandpa feel about all those tongues wagging for you?” I wink at her over my coffee cup.

  “He doesn’t mind since he knows his tongue is the one I care the most about. In fact, it was wagging pretty good last night.”

  “Gross, Gran!” I dig my fingers in my ears, but the damage has already been done. “You aren’t gonna let me be sad about this, are you?”

  “Not if I can help it. I’m blessed, James. Nothing in life is more humbling than sitting in a chemo room. I was there with toddlers and teenagers. Young mothers and fathers. Folks who should have been enjoying the prime of their life, not fighting for it. I sat there hooked up, feeling guilty.”

  “Why guilty?”

  “Because I’m an old wom
an. I’ve lived my life. My time’s coming to an end, cancer or not.” She pauses for a sip of tea. “The chemo room is always filled with books and magazines and ways to pass the time so you’re not sitting there thinking of the poison going in your body. One day, there was a bright orange book sitting on the table. I started reading it, and I’ll be damned if it didn’t change my life.”

  “What was it about?”

  “A girl who embraced the hell out of life, even though hers was coming to an end.”

  “Did she have cancer too?”

  “She did. But she didn’t sit there bellyachin’ about it. She went to college. She listened to loud music. She fell in love. She lived, James. And that’s what I’m gonna do until the very end. I might struggle, but I’m gonna struggle with joy. Besides, old people shit themselves all the time. At least I’ll have a better excuse!”

  With that, she winks at me, downs the last of her tea and gets the dustpan from underneath the sink. There’s no way she’s cleaning up the plate I broke.

  “Go sit down, I’ll get this.” I sweep chards of ceramic off the floor and run a damp paper towel over the area for good measure. “So what’s really in Florida?”

  “Besides the sunshine and your grandpa on the beach in a speedo?” She grins and wiggles her eyebrows again. “There’s a cancer hospital in Tampa that I’m transferring to. They’ll help with all the shitty stuff—pun intended—before I ride the big elevator to the QVC in the sky.”

  “Are you scared?” I dump the contents of the dustpan in the trash and return to the table.

  “Not in the least. I know exactly where I’m going.” She offers a reassuring smile and glances at the clock over the stove. “You’d better get a move on so you’re not late for school.”

  “I’m okay with hanging out with you a little bit longer. Trigonometry won’t miss me, I promise.”

  “Well in that case, let’s use our time wisely. Go get my clippers, boy. You need a trim. You look like one of those youngins on the cover of those teeny bopper magazines.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Caffeinated Secretary—I mean Mrs. Atkins—eyes my note over her cup of coffee. “Family emergency?”

  “Yes, but everything’s fine now.” Well, not really, but whatever.

  “Give this late slip to your second period teacher.”

  I walk in to Economics a few minutes before the dismissal bell rings. Rachel’s seat is empty, but that’s no surprise. Gretchen waves at me, and I lift my chin in response. It’s nice to see her smiling again. Really smiling. Her ex-boyfriend seems to have moved on with the buxom brunette Mrs. Mason partnered him with. I wonder if she did that on purpose.

  When the bell rings, I move to the front of the class. “Excuse me, Mrs. Mason?” She looks up from her desk and smiles.

  “Yes?”

  “In a few weeks, I’m going to be moving. I’m concerned about how that will affect Rachel’s grade for our project.” I know I told her I’d find a way to stay, but I don’t see how that’s possible now that I know about Gran. The best I can do now is make sure her GPA won’t suffer.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, James. I’ve enjoyed your time in class. We don’t have a lot of kids who move away, but you aren’t the first. The best thing about this project is that it focuses on real-life situations. Sometimes that means people leave. Don’t worry about her grade. I can work around this circumstance for the remainder of the semester.”

  “Thanks.”

  The rest of the day passed in a fog. Vivien kept staring at me during lunch, no doubt wondering where Ray was. She even licked her lips, and it had nothing to do with what she was eating. So gross. Pulling a four-hour shift at the Sweet Pea is the last thing I want to do tonight, but a job’s a job. At least Fletcher and Avery are working with me. Besides, it’s a Wednesday so it should be pretty slow.

  “What’s up, dude?” Fletcher says over the radio. “Did you hear Avery is taking me and Sammy to The Big Apple this weekend? I’m so freakin’ stoked!”

  “That’s awesome, Fletch. Has Sam been on an airplane before?”

  “Nope, it’s her first time. I haven’t told her yet. I wanna surprise her on the way to the airport. After our shift ends, Avery and I are going shopping for a little backpack to fill with stuff to do on the plane.”

  “Sounds like a fun time.” Avery’s rolling silverware at the hostess station, and the only table I have just cleared out. I plop down on a stool just inside the kitchen so I can watch for new customers. Fletcher eyes me. I know what’s coming next.

  “Avery said you and Rachel had a bit of a falling out. Wanna talk about it?”

  “Not much to talk about. I’m moving to Florida because my gran’s sick and she freaked out. Said she can’t bear to be my girlfriend while I’m still here, and she’s convinced herself that a long-distance relationship won’t work. The horror stories of Derrick and Avery have left their mark.” I shrug a shoulder in defeat. “How am I supposed to overcome that?”

  “That’s tough, man. I won’t lie.” He peeks his head through the window before continuing. “Avery still gets weird on me because of shit Derrick did or said. I hate being compared to him, but that’s the last relationship she had. It sucks, but I can see why she does it. Hopefully, Ray will come around soon. What you two have seems legit.”

  “Yeah it is. For me at least. I thought it was for her too, but now she’s acting like a damn girl about it.” I rub my hands over my face. You’d think for a guy who had semi-psychic abilities, I’d know what in the hell to do. Instead I feel more like a baby elephant learning to control its trunk: sometimes it goes well, and sometimes I look like a bumbling idiot.

  “You need a plan, dude.”

  “Fine, you got one?”

  “Let me think on it some.” He grins when Avery slides a ticket over the counter.

  “Well if it isn’t the prettiest girl in North Carolina.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She may act blasé, but I know inside she’s eating that shit up. She turns to me with a sad puppy eyes before plastering a fake smile on her face. “Hey James! How are ya?”

  Seriously?

  “About as great as I was at lunch, Avery.”

  “Still haven’t talked to her?”

  “Nope. She’s not going to have a choice tomorrow, though. If she stays home again, I’m skipping and going to her house.”

  “You didn’t hear it from me, but she’s a mess. You may have been the reason she fell apart, but I think you’re the only one who can put her back together.”

  I straighten a bit in my stool. That’s the best news I’ve heard in the longest two days of my life. “You got any tips for me? I could use all the help I can get.” She studies me for a moment, then breaks out in a smile. A real one, this time.

  “She loved open mic night. Can you write her a song?”

  I glance over at Fletcher, who nods his head.

  “Done. Lucy’s in The Beast. You think it’s okay if I go grab her and work on it between customers?” On that note, Mandy walks out of the manager’s office and into the kitchen.

  “Mom, James is moving because his gran is sick. Rachel freaked out and broke up with him because she’s stupid. Is it okay if James hangs out in the back room to work on a song so he can win her back?” Leave it up to Avery to sum up the state of my life in three sentences. Mandy’s eyes dart between me, Fletcher and Avery before settling back on me with a sigh.

  “I don’t care, as long as my customers and restaurant are tended to. If the two of you can carry his load tonight, that’s fine by me. Just don’t make a practice out of it.”

  “Thanks, Mandy. And God willing, this is the last time I’ll ever have to win Ray back.”

  “That girl has all but lived at my house for the last couple of years, and I’ve never seen her the way she is with you. I don’t think you’ll have to try too hard.” She returns to the office muttering to herself. The only thing I catch is something about “mahogany.” With a surge of so
ng lyrics filling my head, I run to the truck for Lucy.

  For the second time today, I’m filled with hope.

  Boys suck.

  Dads suck.

  Florida sucks.

  Okay. Florida itself doesn’t suck. But the five hundred miles separating it from North Carolina do.

  I lift my arm for a pit-check. I haven’t showered since Monday morning before school. It’s Wednesday afternoon and by the smell of it, Secret is spilling all the dirt she has on me.

  Mom bought my story of a headache and sore throat and let me stay home from school yesterday and today. Despite her recent attempts to be a more active participant in my life, she’s still not a very good nurse. Her idea of caring for me when I’m sick is to leave a few cans of chicken noodle soup on the counter and half of CVS’s decongestants in the bathroom. Not that I actually need them.

  I just can’t bear to see James yet. How I’m supposed to make it through the next few weeks before he leaves is beyond me. How I’m supposed to survive once he’s gone is even more unbearable.

  Boys suck.

  Mom texted me earlier—yes, she actually texted me from inside the house—to let me know she was going to a Bingo committee meeting. I never knew there was such a thing. I raided the freezer after hearing the front door shut, polishing off the last of the Ben and Jerry’s and then starting on the Häagen Dazs. Dad hid his stash of sherbet behind a bag of lima beans, and I’m gonna eat that too. Serves him right.

  But, remembering the status of my pit-check, I should probably shower first. I’m starting to gross myself out, and Avery would seriously kick my ass if she saw me. Her version of post-breakup attire involved red lipstick, skinny jeans and stilettos. So basically, it was business as usual. I pass Dad’s office on the way to the kitchen and flip off the door. Juvenile as it may be, it makes me feel better. I load my ice cream bowl in the dishwasher and head for the bathroom when I hear knocking at the front door. For a moment, I wonder if this is one of those daytime burglary attempts I heard about on the news and grab the phone off the kitchen counter just in case. I creep to the peephole and equal amounts of relief and confusion hit me. What the hell is Gran doing here?