30 Nights

by Christine d'Abo

  “Of course.” Nanna suddenly looked horrified. “Maybe I shouldn’t have given this to you yet. I should have waited . . . until . . .”

  I set the letter on the seat beside me and hugged her hard. “It’s fine. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Mom came back then, coffee in hand and her face streaked with dried tears. “There was a hell of a line at Tim Hortons. Sorry for the delay.”

  Dad came back shortly after that, his face tight and his gaze assessing how Nanna was doing. “Mom, Tony is picking up Brian and they’re heading over to the house. Steven will come by here a bit later.”

  Nanna patted my hand. “Why don’t you go for a walk, dear? Stretch your legs a bit.”

  “I got you a large double-double.” Mom handed me a coffee as I got up. “I forgot how big these were. Dump it if you can’t drink it all.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mom hugged me, holding me longer than she normally would. “I saw there was a nice little sitting area down the hall if you’re looking for a quiet spot. We’re not going anywhere, so come back in when you’re ready.”

  “I will.”

  I left them and headed toward the direction Mom had indicated. My thoughts bounced around, remembering my times with Great Glenna. Her home had been a large old farmhouse in Antigonish, Nova Scotia. When I was a kid, we’d go to visit her sometimes, taking Nanna with us. I didn’t remember much of the place, but even as a kid I knew that the house was more than a little run-down.

  Some summers she’d board a plane and would make the trip herself to stay with Nanna for a month, usually July. I loved the lilt of her voice, the way her eyes would sparkle, telling you she was up to something. I loved her East Coast accent and the way she’d say certain words that made them sound oh-so-very Canadian.

  “Dammit.” It became hard to take a breath without my body shaking. I needed to sit down, to have some time to pull my shit together before I could even think of going back to my family.

  The signs for the sitting area directed me down the hall. The coffee was starting to heat my hand through the cardboard cup. Mom never remembered to ask them to double-cup it. When I finally got to the room, there was a couple inside talking to someone who looked to be hospital staff. Best if I stay out here then. A quick look around and I discovered a chair against a wall a few feet away. That would be as good a place as any.

  The hallway was quiet except for the hum of voices in the other room and the rattle of air coming through a vent. I sat on the over-padded fake leather chair and waited for the air to hiss from the cushion as my weight settled before I looked at the envelope.

  Little Glenna.

  It was dainty, small, so unlike the woman who penned it. I laid it on my lap, not ready to open it yet. Instead I drank my coffee, letting the caffeine, sugar, and cream do their best to boost my spirits and charge my body. It was artificial, but would hopefully help get me through the next few hours.

  Great Glenna’s letter waited.

  I finished my coffee and set the cup on the floor.

  I took a breath, then another before I finally picked it up to examine it once more. It was thin, probably only containing a single sheet of paper. Nanna had said this was a good-bye from the woman who was currently connected to life-support machines on the opposite end of the floor. She was still living, still holding on.

  She was speaking to me even though she couldn’t.

  I closed my eyes and made up my mind that I would do this now. I slid my thumb beneath the lip and gently tugged the envelope open. I was right in that there was only a single sheet of paper, but wrong that it was the only thing inside. She’d folded it in thirds, as though it were hugging the other item—a picture. Before I opened the letter, I shook it to the side and the photograph slid out.

  When I’d been very young, Great Glenna had taken me to the Eaton Center on one of her visits to Toronto. We’d gone into a photo booth and had our picture taken together—two generations bound by a single name. We’d divided them up, two for her and two for me. Over the years, I’d lost my copies. Having a replacement wasn’t something I’d ever thought possible, having forgotten that she would have kept hers.

  The tears that I’d kept at bay earlier now trickled down my cheeks. Why hadn’t I spent more time with her? They’d moved her to a nursing home here years ago, available for me to see whenever I wanted. She was my Great Glenna, a woman whom I’d admired for years, and I’d always done my best to live up to owning her name. I was a horrible great-granddaughter.

  Sniffing the tears away, I finally opened the paper so I could read her final words.

  Dear Little Glenna,

  I know I’d told you this before, but I was always secretly pleased that you were the great-grandchild that bore my name. Not that I have any particular attachment to the moniker, but rather because the first moment I saw you as an infant, I knew we were kindred spirits.

  I’m so proud of you and what you’ve accomplished in your life. Working at a college? Well, that’s certainly something that I could have never done. My biggest regret was that I never continued my education. Thank you for showing me what could have been.

  When I sat down to write these letters, there were so many people I wanted to offer some final passing thoughts to. Most of them it was simply a good-bye. For you my sweet girl, I wanted to give you something a bit more than that. I want to give you a tiny bit of advice.

  I’ve watched you grow up into a beautiful, intelligent woman. You live your life with care and thought. I want you to stop that. Not completely, but just a bit. I want you to do something wild. I don’t use that term lightly. I see you going down a path that is going to give you most of what you want from life. Eventually, I have no doubt that you’ll marry and have children of your own. I want that for you.

  But I want you to make sure it is with the right man.

  I don’t want you to get to be my age and be full of regrets.

  Today, tomorrow, next week, I want you to go out and do something that will make you say, “Great Glenna would have loved this.” I would hope this would involve a man, but only you can decide if that’s right for you.

  Regardless, I want you to know that I love you. Your mother often told me that you felt bad for not spending more time with me. I’m an old woman, but I’m not a petty one. The time we had together was precious. As you know, I’m a fan of quality over quantity. You always gave me that.

  I love you.

  Yours for eternity,

  Great Glenna.

  “Dammit.” I wiped the tears away with the heel of my hand. “Dammit.”

  Every ounce of guilt and regret I’d had filled me. I crushed the letter to my chest and let out a sob that must have been audible to everyone close. She loved me, was proud of me.

  She wanted me to take chances.

  I leaned forward until my forehead touched my knees. Folded over, I was able to shut everything out, and for just a moment enjoy the darkness and let her words sink in. In so many ways, she was an observer the way I was. She had an uncanny ability to get to the heart of a problem by simply asking a few questions. While I put my skills to work in academia, she used hers to help people live better lives.

  She was amazing.

  It took me a while to pull myself together enough that I felt I could face my family.

  When I returned, the doctor was out speaking with Mom and Dad. Nanna wasn’t there. When Dad saw me coming, he met my gaze and gave his head a little shake.

  No.

  Oh no.

  “Mom?”

  She wiped her eyes and pulled me into a monster hug. “She’s gone, baby.”

  “Nanna?”

  “She’s in there with her right now.”

  I held her a bit tighter. “I love you so much.”

  “I know. I love you, too.” She pulled back and wiped away a fresh batch of my tears. “You got your letter?”

  “I did.”

  “She really did lov
e you best of all the children. And she knew that you loved her, too. Never worry that she didn’t.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  The next few hours were the hardest of my life to date. I somehow held the rest of my tears back once Nanna came out. Dad stepped in and took over until Uncle Stephen arrived. It became easy to slip into the background then, to take a moment to catch my breath. I’d promised Jasmine that I’d give her a call to fill her in.

  She picked up on the first ring. “Hon, are you okay?”

  “Great Glenna passed.”

  “I’m so sorry. Do you need anything? I can pick up some things and bring them to your place.”

  “I’m going to Mom and Dad’s tonight to be with them. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be out until after the funeral on Wednesday.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll even e-mail Mickelson to let him know what’s going on.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Go be with your family. Call me when you can.”

  It hurt losing Great Glenna, but what made it easier to handle was having people in my life whom I could count on, whom I loved and who loved me in return. Yes, the pain was there, but I knew it would fade eventually.

  The best way I could honor her and her memory was to become the person Great Glenna knew I could. Somehow I needed to find a way to seek out and seize adventure the way she had. To live a life without regret, to do things that Great Glenna would look at and say, That’s my girl!

  Now I just needed to figure out how the hell I could do that.

  3

  The funeral was as lovely as one could be. It had been years since I’d last been to a service. My parents weren’t particularly religious, so we didn’t go to church unless Nanna asked us to attend. But Great Glenna had been a believer, and she’d been the one who, several months earlier, had picked out this particular church where she’d wanted her service to take place.

  The hymns were ones I recognized as songs she’d often hummed to herself when she’d be knitting something or other. Aunt Sabin had me crying within a few bars of her rendition of the “Ave Maria.” Uncle Tony gave the eulogy and Nanna even said a few words. The interment was at a graveyard a short drive away. I placed a flower on her casket along with the other grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

  Before I knew it the service was over and we had nothing left to do but to carry on with our lives.

  The days between her passing and the funeral gave me an opportunity to look at her letter again and take stock of my life. I couldn’t help but think of Jasmine and her teasing. How I was a coward, never willing to put myself out there and take a chance. I thought of Eric and the upcoming barbecue. Jasmine was right in that it was the perfect opportunity to get to know him. There wasn’t anything terrible that could happen from saying hello and asking about his classes this semester.

  Great Glenna would certainly approve. Eric was kind of her type, except about sixty years too young.

  I was thinking of Eric as we fell into groups and began heading back to the cars. The wind had picked up and my hair kept blowing into my face. I stopped to fix it, which was the only reason I saw the bag fly from the top of a gravestone and onto the ground. My cousins continued walking, chatting quietly with one another, and hadn’t noticed that I’d fallen behind. I couldn’t stand the thought of someone’s memorial gift to a loved one lying on the ground. It would only take a second to put it back where it belonged.

  “Hold up!” I didn’t wait to see if they heard, knowing they wouldn’t get too far ahead of me even if they hadn’t. I jogged as carefully as I could in high heels on the grass over to the grave. It should have taken me all of two seconds to retrieve the bag and put it back on the grave marker. It would have too, if it weren’t for the big black print that caught my attention.

  No.

  No, someone didn’t . . .

  I smoothed the wrinkles from the clear bag so I wasn’t mistaken about what I was reading.

  Day One

  Masturbate

  “What the hell . . .” My curiosity got the better of me. I pulled open the bag and quickly looked at the contents.

  Sexting.

  Lap dances.

  Car sex.

  Oh my God, these were sex cards!

  At a graveyard!

  “Holy shit.”

  “Glenna, you coming?”

  I jumped and shoved the cards into my pocket without thinking. “Yup.”

  Sex cards at a graveyard? These couldn’t have been intended to be here. Maybe someone was having some sort of kinky sex and these were accidentally left behind. The poor family whose loved one was resting here might get an awful shock if they came for a visit and discovered these.

  Best to take them with me so that some other grieving person didn’t stumble upon them. I was doing a public service.

  Totally.

  I caught up to my cousin Kristina. She gave me a quick smile and tilted her head toward the grave marker. “What was that?”

  I loved Kristina, but she was a bit more conservative in her views on the world than I was. So not the type of person to appreciate sex cards, especially ones found here. “Oh nothing. Just some garbage. I didn’t want to leave it.”

  “That’s nice of you to pick it up.” Kristina gave me another smile. “Think they’ll have some food back at Nanna’s place? I’m starving.”

  “I think Mom and Dad brought a bunch of stuff over earlier. I assume that most people brought things for her to have. Should be plenty.”

  The cards were practically burning a hole in my pocket. They were exactly the sort of thing to pique my curiosity: How did they get there? Who wrote them? Who would use them?

  God, I didn’t want to wait until I got home to take a closer look at them, but I had no choice. I couldn’t help but think that Great-Grandma Glenna would have loved the idea of the cards and especially me finding them after her funeral. If I believed in ghosts or fate, I could probably be convinced to believe that she had a hand in me finding them.

  But I didn’t.

  Even if she did.

  It really wouldn’t have surprised me.

  I’d only caught a glance at some of what was written on them, but it was more than enough to know that whoever penned them had an active imagination.

  The problem with having a packet of sex cards was, with the notable exception of card one, the necessity of a second person. That was certainly something I was currently lacking.

  If I had a choice in the matter, I knew exactly whom I’d want to share them with: Eric. He’d be perfect, but it would require him knowing that I existed as a sexual creature and not simply Professor Mickelson’s research assistant. Or however he thought of me.

  Maybe these sex cards could help with that?

  Yeah, no. I certainly didn’t have the proverbial balls for that.

  The family had gathered at Nanna’s house. Laughter occasionally permeated the mutter of chatter, and the tension that had been present earlier in the day started to subside. I loved my great-grandmother to bits, but I was finding it difficult to keep my attention focused. My mind kept drifting to the clear plastic bag and the contents that I’d transferred to my purse from my pocket the first chance I’d been able.

  Talking to my aunt Stephanie? I couldn’t help but wonder who needed to be told to masturbate. Giving my cousin Kristina a hug and second coffee? Wondering about lap dances in graveyards.

  Either the intended recipient of these cards was new to sex, or there was a lot more to that particular story than I first realized.

  “Glenna?”

  I jumped at the sound of my mom’s voice. She’d been hovering by my dad for most of the day, who in turn had been hovering around his mom, making sure that she was handling things. Accepting her hug, I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “How’s Dad and Nanna?”

  “As well as to be expected.” Mom hadn’t dyed her hair in a while and I couldn’t help but notice the long streaks of gray in her n
atural brown. Another reminder that we were all getting older.

  “Do you need me to get anything?”

  “No, I think we’ve got it all covered. I just wanted to see if you were staying over tonight at the house and if I should head over to make up the spare bed.”

  A quick glance around the room at my dad and his brothers and I knew they were probably going to dip into the case of beer I saw in the garage and drink to Great-Grandmother’s honor. That would leave Mom entertaining the aunts and Nanna, who would probably have a drink or two of their own.

  “I think you’ll have a full enough house tonight. I’ll head back to my place. Besides, I have to go to work tomorrow anyway.”

  “Oh baby, are you sure you’re up for that? It’s only been a few days.”

  “Not really, but I can’t take any more time off.” I’d already used my allotted three days of bereavement time that the school granted. As much as I’d like to take another day or two to mourn, I knew myself well enough to know that going back to work would be more helpful than sitting in my apartment moping. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Of course you will.” Mom tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Well, it looks like I’ll be busy tonight, but if you need anything you just call. Okay?”

  “Thanks.” I gave her another kiss. “I think I might actually slip out. Unless you need me to stay and help out more?”

  “Go. Though make sure you say bye to Nanna before you do.”

  “I will.”

  I made my rounds, handing out hugs and kisses to people whom I hadn’t seen in years and enduring the bevy of oh, you look so mature now and my goodness you’re so beautiful from the various aunts and uncles. I must have been one hell of an ugly duckling given the amount of comments I received. I spent an extra few minutes with Nanna. She kissed me and squeezed me a bit harder.

  “Of all the grandchildren and great-grandchildren, you’re the one who’s most deserving to be her namesake.”

  Oh.