Small Town Famous (The Small Town Trilogy Book 1)

by Alison Ryan

  Needless to say, there would be no trip to the lake with Ryan Kidson that day. I hadn’t even thought about it until the phone rang, right before we were leaving to go see Grandma at the hospital.

  “Addie.” Aunt Shayla held out the phone to me, her face confused. “It’s for you. Some boy. Hurry up, okay?”

  I took the phone from her, confused myself.

  “Hello?” I asked.

  “Hey. It’s Ryan. I heard about your grandma, I’m so sorry.”

  My heart swelled.

  “Wow, word travels fast,” I said, “Thanks for calling.”

  “Well, these mission circle ladies don’t mess around with this stuff. I’m just sorry we’re going to miss out on the lake today. Maybe another time?”

  “Oh, wow. I had forgotten in the midst of the craziness. Yes, I really would love to go. Maybe once things are better with Grandma.”

  “Of course. I have some lawns to work on today that I’m behind on. So it worked out okay.”

  “Wait, you’re not going at all?” I was surprised.

  “Of course not. The lake isn’t fun without pretty girls. I’ll let you go now. Talk to you later, Addie.”

  When I hung up the smile on my face could have lit up all of Las Vegas Boulevard.

  My grandma sat up in her hospital bed, sipping on a Styrofoam cup of iced water with a bendy straw. She looked so incredibly miniscule under a mountain of hospital sheets. Her hospital gown was falling off her shoulders and her collar bones were protruding. I hadn’t seen them my entire life. It reminded me of how this was slowly taking her from us, a pound at a time.

  As soon as I walked in she smiled, put down her cup, and extended her bird arms.

  “Angel!” she called to me. I ran over and embraced her, lightly. I felt like I would shatter her if I held her too tightly.

  Aunt Shayla and my mother stood behind me. She immediately collapsed into the only available chair in the room. She had sunglasses on and her hair was a mess. But at least we had gotten her here. She had tried to say she was too hungover and didn’t want Grandma to see her like this. My Aunt Shayla told her to “get the hell over yourself” and get her ass in the car.

  “So how are you feeling?” I said, holding her hand. She scooted over a bit.

  “Get in this bed with me and let me snuggle you.”

  Being that she was so tiny, there was plenty of room but I wasn’t sure if it was okay. She had so many IVs hooked to her.

  She must have sensed my apprehension, “Its okay, angel face. I promise, it will help me.”

  I slid in next to her. The sheets were cool. I laid my head on her frail shoulder. It was like sharing a bed with a child.

  “Has Dr. Harrison talked to you yet?” Aunt Shayla leaned against the chair Mom was lounging in.

  “Mom, why don’t you let Aunt Shayla sit down?” I asked.

  “Its fine, honey.” Aunt Shayla said in that tone of voice that means the opposite of Its fine. My mother didn’t get the hint. She didn’t move.

  Grandma shifted next to me, her bony hand now entwined in mine.

  “Well, he popped in to see if y’all were here yet about an hour ago. I told him it was okay, to just tell me what was going on but he insisted on everyone being present. I think he thinks I’m senile instead of just full of cancer.”

  Aunt Shayla and I exchanged glances. Dr. Harrison’s insistence on us being here didn’t sound like promising news.

  We must have sat there at least an hour, waiting for something to happen. My stomach was in knots. Mom had fallen asleep in her chair and Aunt Shayla had pulled in a chair from one of the nurse’s stations and sat on the other side of Grandma’s bed. Every time I heard squeaking shoes approaching our door, my heart would jump in my chest. For an hour each pair of sneakers had just been a nurse walking by or other people visiting relatives. But finally the squeaking stopped outside of her room and knuckles rapped against the door.

  “It’s me.” Dr. Harrison walked in, with two nurses behind him. His smile was pinched yet again and his eyes told me he was not looking forward to this visit. I pictured him hiding from us in his office, dreading what he was to unleash on us. I just had a terrible premonition about what he was about to say.

  “I’m glad you’re all here,” he said, sitting on the very edge of Grandma’s bed. He did that thing men do, where they place their ankle on the knee of the opposite leg. His khakis rode up a bit and I saw he had Sperry topsiders on with argyle socks. I stared at them as he spoke, hoping if I didn’t see his mouth moving, it wouldn’t be true.

  “You do not have a concussion, thankfully. But the ultrasounds we performed in addition to the scan have shown us a change. The cancer has progressed,” he said. He paused for a moment, “It’s metastasized to your rib, back, and brain. Unfortunately, this isn’t uncommon at this stage.” He touched Grandma’s blanketed leg. “I am truly sorry, Mrs. McCurtis.”

  “What happens now?” Mom was sitting up, her sunglasses off, and her face as sober as I had ever seen it. “What does this mean?”

  “It means this is how it ends.” Grandma sat up next to me, her voice having the authority that it did years ago, “It means it’s time to soak up every last second of the time left. Doctor, can I just please spend that time at home? Starting now? I just want to die where I’m happy.”

  Tears were trickling down my face. I used the back of Grandma’s hand I was holding to wipe them. I couldn’t bear to let go of her right now.

  13

  When my Grandaddy died, years ago, my grandma changed for a while. She started going to church more. She joined her mission circle. She also bought a plot of land at the Rutledgeville Cemetery next to him. But she never took me to go visit his grave.

  “It’s too soon.” She would say, “I’m not ready.”

  Aunt Shayla said one of the florists in town put fresh flowers on the grave for him from Grandma each week. They had both loved daisies. On holidays she would leave something themed but the daisies still came, no matter what.

  The summer I was fourteen, we went to Myrtle Beach for the first time without him. It was just Grandma and I spending the days sleeping until ten and laying at the beach reading until dinner time. Right before the week ended my Grandma asked me something that was completely out of character for her.

  “Do you believe in God, angel?” She was lying on a cushioned beach chair under an umbrella. We had splurged and rented them for the week. It was the best decision of our lives at the moment. We had a beach bag full of paperbacks sitting between us.

  “Wow. Well, that’s a pretty heavy question for Myrtle Beach, Grandma.” I put my sunglasses on top of my head and looked over at her to see if she was just being silly. But her face was incredibly serious.

  “Well, it’s been heavy on my mind, so it’s appropriate.” She looked out at the ocean. The tide was coming in and people were moving their towels and chairs closer to the hotel.

  “I don’t think about it much. If I had to answer I would probably tentatively say maybe.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

  “Why tentative?” My grandma was staring at me in a way she hadn’t before.

  “Grandma, where is this coming from? I just finished reading a romance novel. I’m on the beach, with you, on a vacation. How am I supposed to answer this?” A breeze blew by and sand hit our legs.

  “I was just thinking about how we’ve never talked about it. And when you lose someone you start thinking about what happens after we aren’t here anymore. And you hope that whatever happens, the people you love most in the world are there to go through the rest of existence with you.” She had a cry in her voice so I reached out for her hand.

  “But if you think about that too much, you’ll forget about what’s happening right now. We don’t know for sure what happens when it’s over, Grandma. All I can prove is my existence to you right now. It’s all I can focus on. I’m fourteen, Grandma.”

  She laughed, “I know. So it’s hard for you to ge
t my crazy. When you turn about forty it starts to hit you that this doesn’t last forever. I’ve lost people I love so much and it’s hard for me sometimes…” There sounded like there was more to say but she couldn’t figure out how to word it.

  I sat up and took both her hands this time, “How about this? Let’s go have that seafood buffet. Every time I have scallops it becomes clear to me there really must be a God if that kind of fried yumminess can exist. What do you think?” I just wanted to move on from this seriously complicated topic.

  Grandma touched my salty crusted beach hair. She smiled, “Okay, angel. That sounds good to me.”

  14

  “Momma, there has to be more we can do. You can’t give up yet!” My mother stood now, looking back and forth between Grandma and Dr. Harrison.

  I was blown away that Grandma could quit this easily. For the first time since this trip, Mom and I were on the same side.

  “Grandma, I know this isn’t great news but there are always options. Right, Dr. Harrison?” I looked at him with pleading eyes.

  “Treatment is complicated at this stage,” he delicately said. “She’s been through radiation and chemotherapy more than once. With this type of cancer if it doesn’t show improvement after the first stage of treatment there is little chance of it working beyond that. The fact that it’s progressed shows us the most aggressive options we have been using are not working. So at this point it becomes a matter of whether our goal is to prolong life at the expense of quality or do we make Mrs. McCurtis as comfortable as possible and manage the pain that is ahead. It’s a very difficult decision but I know how she feels about it and I feel like all of you should talk about this together to see what you think is best. I am here if you have questions. I will say there is nothing we haven’t tried. Mrs. McCurtis is certainly no quitter. But she’s also pragmatic, something I admire very much about her. Your mother and grandmother has fought this every step of the way. She’s a very strong woman.” Dr. Harrison patted my grandma’s leg as he spoke. It was clear he cared for her very much.

  “Without treatment how long?” It was the first time Aunt Shayla had spoken since Dr. Harrison had arrived. Her face was pale and her bottom lip quivered.

  Dr. Harrison looked at us and back at Grandma. “It’s not easy to say but approximately three to six months.”

  My heart started beating very fast. Mom was sobbing in her chair, her head buried in her hands, her sunglasses now on the floor. Aunt Shayla wiped tears from her cheeks. All of us were a mess but Grandma laid in that hospital bed and didn’t let a single cry come out. I felt her body actually relax next to me, as if she had been holding her breath and could now exhale.

  “Can I go home today, doc?” Grandma asked.

  “Of course. I’ll have one of the nurses do your release paperwork. But I want to see you again in the next couple days. If this is something you want to do we need to set up in-home hospice care. I want to make sure you’re completely comfortable.”

  Hospice. We had read a novel in school last year about young kids with cancer who lived at a hospice together, just waiting around to die. The lump in my throat was hard to swallow.

  “Thanks, Dr. Harrison.” Grandma was cool as an Eskimo next to me. My mother was having a nervous breakdown and Aunt Shayla had left the room.

  “Grandma?” I said, trying to control the shaking in my voice.

  “Yes, sweet angel?” My grandma practically chirped to me.

  “Why are you so happy? You seem… Like you’re okay with it.”

  “Because I am.” Grandma took my hand, “I am certainly not happy. But I am okay with it. Because I have no choice. I can’t control what is happening to my body. I can only control how I spend the rest of my time living in it. And instead of worrying about whether a treatment is working or taking loads of pills, I can focus on spending time with you. And telling you every single thing I want to tell you before I go. There’s nothing happy about this. But in a way this news is very freeing for me. I can finally let go.”

  15

  “Is my truck still at the bar?” Grandma asked as I pushed her in her wheelchair to the elevator that would take us downstairs to Aunt Shayla’s van.

  “Who told you?” I asked.

  “Well, I heard Shayla tell you last night that your momma went there. And I knew if she went, there was no way Mike was letting her leave with my truck. Not in her condition.” My mouth must have been wide open.

  “You know the bartender?” I asked, “Nothing gets by you!”

  “Oh, yes. Mike used to date your momma.”

  I about fell over. “He did? When?” My mother’s life before me was one of my favorite subjects. I knew so little about it, so any morsel I received was completely delicious. And this might be the biggest one yet.

  Grandma nodded, “They were high school sweethearts. They went to prom together, dated all of her junior year and part of her senior year of high school. Mike is a very good man. He’s owned The Side Pocket since after he graduated college. He’s done very well with it. It attracts a rowdy crowd but he keeps it under control. And his momma and daddy are just as sweet as they can be.”

  I pushed her onto the now open elevator. Mom was still in Grandma’s hospital room talking to Dr. Harrison.

  “Why did they break up?” I asked as the doors closed.

  Grandma was quiet for a moment. “Naomi would have to tell you that. But after your momma left I always stayed in contact with Mike. He was always very good to her.”

  The elevator doors opened and I rolled her through the lobby and out the automatic doors to Aunt Shayla’s waiting van.

  “Shayla, we should probably stop by the bar and pick up my truck. I’d like to ride with Naomi alone in it, if that’s okay.” Grandma slowly stood from her wheelchair. I held her elbow. I felt like a light breeze could knock her over at any moment.

  “I don’t know,” Aunt Shayla was clearly skeptical, “I’m not sure she’s even all the way sober from last night. And you don’t need the stress of an argument.”

  “I’m not asking. I’m telling you. I need to talk to her.” Grandma looked at her younger sister and in that moment it was clear who had always been boss, “She’s my girl, Shayla. She just found out some tough news. Just trust me. We’ll be okay.”

  Everyone was pretty quiet as we drove towards the other side of town to procure Grandma’s 1993 Chevy pickup. My mother sat in the third row seat, her head against the window. I sat in the front passenger seat next to Aunt Shayla. The country station was on again and some new singer named Shania Twain was singing about how no one needs to know right now. It was catchy. I tried to focus on that.

  I couldn’t believe I had met my mother’s high school boyfriend and hadn’t even known it. I thought back to what I remembered about him. He was handsome in that older guy way. (Older to someone my age that is.) He had dark hair that was graying a little at the temples. He was clean shaven and despite the pool hall atmosphere, he had been dressed very professionally in khakis and a collared shirt. I could see him being a catch back in his younger days. And he had belonged to my momma for a while. And then something happened and nothing was ever the same. I wondered if he had known about me. I would never have been able to tell either way.

  The truck was still in the parking lot. It was an island with nothing else around it. I guessed in a few hours it would be a different story but for now the Chevy sat alone.

  “See y’all at the house,” Grandma said, “We might take the long way home. Angel, if you want to go visit with your friends, you should. You’ve been through enough today.”

  I shook my head, “There’s no way I’m leaving you tonight.”

  “No, she’s right,” Aunt Shayla said, “You should get out. I’ll stay over with her and your momma. It’ll all be okay.”

  I knew this meant discussions would be had. About what was next. And honestly, I really didn’t know if I wanted to be present for that. The thought of talking with my Grandma on how
she wanted to spend her remaining days on earth was heavy for me. For once, I would accept the pardon.

  And when we got home, a huge surprise was waiting.

  Ryan Kidson was sitting on our front porch next to what looked like an aluminum foil covered casserole dish. As we pulled up he smiled and waved. My heart revved up to at least 400 beats per minute at the sight of him.

  “Oh I bet Charlene brought over dinner. That woman is an angel straight from heaven.” Aunt Shayla shifted the van into park as I swung open the door. I could barely compose myself.

  I know it seems silly, being enamored with someone I barely knew, like I was. I was never someone that connected to the love-at-first-sight fairy tales that were plastered all over the media I consumed. I had seen in person how fickle romantic relationships could be. I was a cynic even at my young age. But there was just something about Ryan Kidson. I don’t know if it was the emotional turmoil brewing at home or my own hormones.

  “Hey.” His smile was sheepish and sweet. His hair looked lighter and his face was ruddy and tan. I could tell it had been a day spent in the sun. He had that enviable trait in guys where they clearly have the characteristics of a burgeoning man, but the charm of someone who is still very much a boy. I wanted to touch him so badly that it killed me.

  This had to be hormones.

  “Hey. What are you up to?” I asked. Aunt Shayla waddled over to the porch and picked up the corner of the foil to see what food he’d brought.

  “Oh! Chicken pot pie! My favorite!” she squealed.

  “Yep,” he said over his shoulder, his eyes still on me, “Momma didn’t put carrots in it. She knows you don’t like them.”

  “Well, your momma is just about the sweetest thing in all of Virginia. Addie, you hungry? It’s still warm.” Aunt Shayla looked at me, one eyebrow up. She wasn’t dumb. Could she feel the energy from across the yard?