A Storied Life

by Leigh Kramer

  “I should have called you first thing yesterday morning instead of painting,” he said. “I meant to set a reminder on my phone but I got distracted and lost track of time. By the time I realized what had happened and called you, you didn’t pick up. That’s on me and I’m sorry. That’s what threw you off, isn’t it?”

  He knew me so well and I didn’t know what to make of it. The Chicago skyline loomed ahead and it wouldn’t be long before we shot up the Kennedy. Reagan and I were going to have sex this afternoon, come hell or high water. I wanted us to have a clean slate beforehand and that required my honesty. I summoned my courage.

  “You said we’d talk in the morning and when I didn’t hear from you, I might have assumed the worse.” He snorted. “And I might have felt embarrassed and I might have been worried that you didn’t want me as much as I wanted you.” He opened his mouth to interrupt. “No, let me get this out. I was a drunk emotional wreck, but I wasn’t so drunk that I would have regretted sleeping with you. You were patient enough to let me set the pace for our relationship but then you didn’t trust me enough to know my own limits, especially when we’d already decided it was time.”

  Reagan waited a beat. “Can I talk now?”

  I gave my assent.

  “I do trust you to know your limits. It about killed me to leave the other night but when you said you wanted to forget everything for a while, I didn’t know what you really wanted. Was it the alcohol talking or you? I didn’t want you to regret it and more than that, I want you to remember every moment of our first time together. I didn’t want to risk taking advantage of you. Especially when you’d just told me about what happened in Paris.”

  “I can understand why you said no. I can even appreciate that now. But that night, you were just one more person telling me I wasn’t enough.”

  “Oh, Liv.” Sympathy filled his voice. “That wasn’t my intent at all. Since we met, there isn’t a day that’s gone by that I haven’t felt lucky to know you. You are one of the most incredible women I’ve ever known.”

  His words reverberated through me as he exited the highway and waited to turn onto Armitage. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to believe he was different from the men who’d let me down, one after another.

  “You really mean that? I feel like I’ve done nothing but complicate your life.”

  Reagan took advantage of the red light and framed my face his hands.

  “You, Olivia Frasier, are amazing. You are an accomplished businesswoman, talented artist, and the way you take care of your grandmother puts everyone else to shame. The way you take care of anyone important to you puts everyone else to shame. Your passion for the people and things you love is such a turn on. If anything, I should be asking what you see in me.” His mouth quirked up at the corners. He didn’t need any such reminders.

  His words of praise were almost too much. I blinked back tears and glanced at the light. “It’s green.”

  Reagan let go of my face and put the car in gear.

  “Just don’t shut me out, Liv. That’s all I’m asking. If you need time or space, fine. But don’t avoid me. If I’ve hurt your feelings, I need to know so I can make it right. I’m still figuring out how to balance work and a relationship but you’re worth it. I’m not going anywhere. I want you and I want this.” He gestured between us before reclaiming my hand.

  “I want this, too. You’re more than I ever hoped for,” I said. I questioned my sanity for ever avoiding him in the first place. I could be such an idiot when it came to relationships. “I really am sorry. I’m going to do better, I promise. No more shutting you out.”

  “So we’re good?” Reagan asked.

  I smiled at him. “We’re good.”

  “And we’ve established we both want each other.” Reagan’s answering smile turned wolfish.

  I laughed. “I wonder what we should do about that,” I murmured, tapping my temple as if searching for an idea. The energy shifted between us.

  The stoplights were on our side as we hit a string of green lights. Reagan made quick work of zipping through Wrigleyville before parking in his building’s garage. I waited in giddy anticipation as he came around and opened my door. Reagan’s lips were on mine as soon as I got out, pressing me against the SUV.

  “Much better,” he said. My knees weakened and I held onto him as we made our way to his apartment.

  Once we arrived at his door, he asked me to wait outside. My eyebrows lifted in question but I agreed. I shuffled my feet and turned in a slow circle, too much pent-up energy to stay still.

  I turned back around once Reagan opened the door. His stormy blue eyes hypnotized me. I launched forward, forgetting about anything other than my need to be close to him. I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him but before it could turn deeper, he broke the kiss.

  He pulled me inside. The door shut behind me and I gasped as I took in Reagan’s living room. It was strewn with white twinkle lights hanging from the ceiling and another set led from the front door and down the hall. Soft music played from the stereo, Ray LaMontagne again.

  I turned to him. “When did you do all this?”

  “After I left your office yesterday.” He smiled at my reaction.

  It had to have taken him hours. No matter what he said, I didn’t deserve him.

  “My way of making things up to you for the other night. Did it work?” His eyes danced.

  I put one hand in the center of his chest and pushed him in the direction of his room.

  “You are about to get so lucky, you don’t even know.” I looked up at him with heat and promise as his head lowered toward mine. He kissed me and pleasure coursed through my body. This was finally happening. We crashed into the wall as we headed down the hallway, unwilling to break apart for even a second. Until we made it to Reagan’s bedroom. His hands grasped my shoulders and turned me around so I faced the room, my back to his front.

  The twinkle lights on the hardwood floor lit the room, as did the glow of candles on his dresser.

  “This is what you deserve,” Reagan said in my ear before nipping it. “I’m going to make mistakes but I swear I’ll always make it up to you. You are everything to me.”

  “You’re everything to me, too,” I said, overwhelmed by my feelings. I turned around and took his hand, drawing him toward the bed.

  It was worth the wait.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Elaine left a void we could not fill. There were obvious holes, such as finding a replacement at the bank and missing her at family functions. We also learned the many ways she'd held us together, whether serving as a liaison or organizing the next get together.

  Though Elaine and I hadn't talked every day, I ached knowing she was no longer a phone call away. I couldn't drop in to see her whenever I liked. She wouldn't surprise me at work with lunch. My mind refused to accept these changes. I'd call her cell phone to hear her voice prompting callers to leave a message. Living in Oak Park afforded me the chance to believe her death was all in my head.

  This healthy bit of denial powered me through long days at the gallery and frequent trips to Geneva to check on Gram. Each visit I left her house worried by what I saw. Her trademark strength and sass seemed to have left with Elaine's death. Her appetite dwindled again and she'd canceled most of her plans. The summer humidity kept us at the mercy of air conditioning, and she added this excuse to her arsenal for why she didn't need to leave the house. Prudence wouldn't let Gram become a true hermit, but even her best friend couldn’t coax her to do much beyond an occasional breakfast, where Gram barely ate.

  “I don't have it in me to grieve another child,” Gram had whispered to me the other day. Speaking firmly and resolutely had been added to her “too much energy” list. She slipped into a shell of her former self and this frightened me more than the cancer growing inside her. I held her hand and massaged her back, hoping my strength would transfer to her, but these efforts did little to help. Even the hospice team braved concerned glances in my direction.r />
  Justin talked her into allowing the nurse's aide to visit once a week to help her shower but she remained adamant that she didn't need anyone to stay overnight with her. She complained about needing to go to the bathroom more frequently but refused to let Justin order a bedside commode. After a close call in the middle of the night, she did agree to the purchase of a plastic cover for her mattress. Just in case, she said. She wouldn't address her body's betrayal any further.

  The days passed and while she didn't get worse, she didn't regain the ground she'd lost either. Gram, who'd weathered many other losses and difficulties, seemed to have met her match. She was giving up, but I couldn't give up on her.

  She needed something to look forward to, I reasoned. We all did. The somber air adhered to our days did no one any good. Elaine would have been disappointed by our attachment to the mourning rags we bore. However, grief was grief and Elaine would not have denied us that.

  Elaine had been in charge of plans for Gram's upcoming eighty-fourth birthday. Gram liked being the center of attention but hadn't been overly invested in this particular birthday. It would likely be her last and ideas were tossed around on how to celebrate her properly. Elaine's penchant for detail made her the perfect party planner. A venue had been chosen and the date set. We knew to show up and she'd take care of the rest.

  With Elaine gone, the party plans lay abandoned. No one wanted to page through Elaine's party binder and figure out what still needed to be done. Gram talked about not being in a party mood, the first time those words had ever been uttered from her mouth. While party details weren't my strong suit, Gram could not turn eighty-four without fanfare. Some day we would regret it.

  One day after work, I knocked on Stewart and Elaine's door and made the exchange. I whipped up a batch of margaritas while Uncle Stewart brought me up to date on Elaine's plans. I had a week to tie up loose ends and make it come together. Before I left, he bequeathed me with the party binder, the very one used for all manner of events the past fifteen or so years. I did not intend to take the party planning mantle for good, I assured him. We would fete Gram and then a new organizer could be anointed.

  Of course, the best laid plans of art gallery owners did not happen as intended. There was debate about whether the party should be a surprise or not, as some felt Gram would refuse to attend if she knew it was going on as planned, while others thought knowing would do her good. In the end, someone leaked it to her. She called me, furious. I didn't know whether to be happy to see life sparked back into her or irritated she was taking it out on me.

  We would celebrate Gram's birthday whether she liked it or not.

  * * *

  I led Gram through La Trattoria Ristorante, waiting with each step as she plunked her cane down ahead of her and dragged the rest of her body forward. Every few feet, she'd grumble, which I chose to ignore. Rain or shine, La Trattoria had witnessed family occasions for decades. Tonight, they'd reserved the enclosed patio for our guests. The summer heat didn't matter with the air conditioning piped in. The patio was our preferred room, what with the view of the night sky and lush garden. Edison lights beckoned us toward the patio.

  By the time we walked through the door, Gram's spirits had risen. I pecked her on the cheek and released her to greet the friends and family gathered there. Her birthday fell on a Wednesday this year, but no one let that get in the way of attending. I sidled along the edge of the patio to avoid the throng until I landed next to Reagan.

  “It looks good, right?” I asked him. For some reason, my normal go-with-the-flow demeanor eluded me tonight. Elaine had wrapped up most of the details for the party, and I didn't want to mar her legacy. I wanted Gram to feel loved and cherished and for the family to tell me “job well done.” Knots of tension ran through me.

  Reagan put his arm around me and hugged me close. “It looks great, Liv. She's going to love it,” he said into my ear. The vibration of his lips sent a thrill through me but it wasn’t enough to distract me from my nerves. I glanced over at Gram. The crowd had cleared a path so she could sit in the place of honor. Her eyes crinkled with glee as compliments rained upon her. It's possible her loved ones went into overkill at the sight of Gram dressed up and out on the town. Our hopes were foisted on the frailest details these days.

  My cousin Lexi came over to talk. We chatted for a few minutes before she mentioned the concern that compelled her to cross the room. “Did she lose more weight?” she asked, her head tipped in Gram's direction. I swallowed hard and nodded yes. Her diminished frame served to further highlight the fluid that steadily accumulated in her belly. Ascites, Justin called it. We'd barely noticed her swelling stomach when she first told us her diagnosis but it could no longer be ignored. Gram referred to it as her frenemy.

  “She hardly eats, no matter what we tempt her with. The hospice nurse said this is normal, between her grief and the cancer.” I tried to remember how he'd worded his explanation yesterday so it wouldn't come across as overly harsh. “He said based on the way she's slowed down lately, her body is probably starting to shut down and, as a result, she doesn't need as much food.”

  I paused as Lexi flinched. She wouldn't want to accept that Gram was declining; I certainly didn't. But we knew the day was coming. Unless Gram turned things around, it would be coming ever sooner.

  “But if she wants to eat, she should,” I reassured Lexi. “We can't force her. Who knows? Maybe she'll be tempted by some Italian food tonight. I made sure to order her favorites.”

  We stood silent looking at our grandmother. When I thought of Gram, words like fierce, sassy, and unstoppable came to mind. This was at odds with the fragile, tiny woman before us. She visited with long-time friends and made jokes as if nothing had changed. If we could look past the weight loss and cane, we could pretend she would stay with us forever.

  Her sons stood to her left, while my aunts, Mom, and Uncle Stewart gathered to her right. The blood relatives and the in-laws. Dad had missed birthday parties for so many years, his lack of presence rarely caught me off guard. Looking at the line up, Elaine's absence screamed at us. This was the first time the whole family had gathered since the funeral. We couldn't put off celebrations indefinitely out of deference to our loss, although this contrast illustrated the temptation.

  Uncle Jeff whispered something in Gram's ear which made her throw her head back in laughter. Lexi and I grinned. This was the woman we knew and loved. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the restaurant owner trying to catch my attention. I excused myself from Lexi and Reagan.

  “We're ready to serve if you're ready,” Antonio said before leaning in to give me a hug.

  “Yes, we're ready. Thank you, Antonio.” Antonio had known the Frasier family for longer than I'd been alive. He would do everything in his power to give Gram a fitting last birthday supper.

  I whistled loud to get everyone's attention. My heart pounded as all eyes turned to me. “Thank you for coming, everyone, and thank you, Gram, for being born eighty-four years ago.” Light laughter and clapping followed. “Seriously, we're glad we can all gather tonight to eat, drink, and celebrate the one and only Ella May Frasier. They'll be serving the food in a few minutes, but I wanted to start the night off with a toast.” I searched for one of the trays of champagne and snagged a glass. I made eye contact with Gram as I continued. “Gram, you are the best grandmother a person could have. You are an example of what a strong woman should be like. You've lived life on your own terms and yet you still manage to have everyone fall at your feet because you love just as fiercely as you live.”

  Tears welled at the corner of my eyes but I pushed through. “If you have a drink handy, I'd like you to raise it. To Gram, Ella May, for all you are and for the many reasons we love you.”

  I lifted the glass, as others followed, echoing my toast. “To Ella May!”

  Gram beamed and raised her arms toward me. I walked over to her and nestled in her embrace. She kissed me on the forehead, then raised my head to look at her.
/>
  “Thank you, Olivia Jane. Thank you for forcing me to come to my own birthday party,” she said with an impish grin. “I'm beginning to think you really do know what's best for me. Don't make it too much of a habit though.”

  “You're welcome, Gram. All I want is for you to enjoy yourself tonight.”

  With that, the guests scattered to their seats and the meal was served. Toasts continued throughout the night. New stories about Gram were shared. With few exceptions, family told me I'd done a good job. Looking around the room filled me with satisfaction.

  Every once in a while, a flash of sadness would cross someone's face as we considered who else should have been there. Overall, though, Gram was the center of our attention and she loved every minute of it.

  Toward the end of the night, people pushed the tables and chairs out of the way to make room for an impromptu dance party. Gram stayed put in her seat, watching over us. The room was filled with warmth and affection. These were the people who had known me longest, though not necessarily the best. Maybe that wasn't a bad thing. Reagan drew me close and twirled me around until I forgot the reason we were at the restaurant. It seemed impossible to stop laughing.

  Our relationship had fallen back in to its pattern of banter and deep conversation, though I steadfastly refused to talk about painting. He might have wanted me to live up to my potential, but he wasn't forcing me. He probably thought I'd cave one of these days and perhaps I would. He had good intentions, I knew that much.

  As we danced around the patio, I looked into his eyes and it hit me. He was it for me. I loved him. It was scary and it was liberating and it was true. I couldn't say the words yet, nor had he said them to me. It was too soon and nothing else felt certain. But this was love.

  That familiar fear whispered it would end and I did my best to tamp it down. I wanted to believe, for once, it might work out. Reagan turned me into a spin and the skirt of my dress flew around me until he pulled me back in.