Cheap Trick: A Dawson Family Novel

by Goodwin, Emily

  She’s the one who left.

  Who turned her back on this town. On her family and friends.

  On me.

  Grandpa and I tried to get Mom, Dad, and Diana to come for Thanksgiving. And then Christmas.

  Grandma’s birthday.

  The guilt hits me. I spent so many years running from town to town. Hell, I even left the country for a few months. I should have come here from the start. Tears well in my eyes, and I turn my head, unable to keep from crying.

  A nurse comes in to check on Grandpa, and Mom talks to her, somehow able to keep it together. I bend my legs up under myself, shivering.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I tell Grandpa and put my hand on his again. “You’ll get through this, get back on your medication, and we can go back home. I’ll get you one of those ‘old person’ pill cases too. You know, the ones with the days of the week on them, and I will check it every day and make sure you’ve taken your pills.”

  Exhaustion is starting to hit me.

  “So,” I whisper so quietly I don’t think he’d be able to hear me even if he were awake. His hearing has been going, and I have to speak rather loud on a good day. “Logan and I pretended to be engaged.” I look at Mom again, who’s still talking to the nurse. “And I hiked through the Bamboo Forest and saw three waterfalls. I jumped off a rope swing too.” I hold up my arm. “I got a battle wound from it. It’s just a surface scratch, but it was enough to freak Di out a bit at first. She was worried how I’d look in pictures. I think it makes me look tough. I’ll say I got it from fighting off some sort of wild creature.”

  My eyes flutter closed, imagining Grandpa laughing at me as he asks if there are any dangerous wild animals in Hawaii. I actually have no idea, but I want to say no since so many tourists walk through that forest and you never hear of anyone getting mauled by bears.

  The nurse leaves, and Mom stands at the foot of the bed. I get up, wiping my eyes. “What did she say?” I ask.

  Mom opens her mouth to speak but stops, needing a moment to gather her composure. “He has a significant buildup of plaque in his heart. They put a stent in to open up the worst part.”

  “I know. Archer told us.”

  Mom’s lips press together, and I know the nurse gave her more news…and it’s not good. My stomach drops. “He’s going to need heart surgery, but right now he’s not a good candidate for it.”

  “What does that mean? If he needs surgery to fix his heart, then he’s going to have it.”

  “Danielle,” Mom says gently, and her eyes fill with tears. “The doctor doesn’t think his body will be able to handle surgery right now. Grandpa is in pretty bad health and he kept it from us.”

  “So, they’re just going to let him die?” Tears blur my vision, and I angrily shake my head. “I won’t allow it. Where’s the doctor? I need to talk to him!”

  “Honey.”

  “Don’t honey me!” I spit, feeling anxiety wrap around me like a million tiny hands. They’re cold, dark, and trying hard to pull me under. “I’m not going to sit here and do nothing if there’s a cure for this!”

  “There’s no cure for heart disease. The stent took care of the worst part, and medication can help control and even reduce the other buildup.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me he was sick? I could have made sure he took his medication and kept up with doctor appointments.”

  Tears roll down Mom’s cheeks. “You know your grandpa.”

  I sink back into the chair and start silently crying again. Mom comes over and wraps her arm around me. I inhale but don’t get any air. My chest heaves, and I want nothing more than for Grandpa to sit up and give me some sort of profound advice that will help me accept this.

  “It’s not fair, I know,” she whispers.

  “Why didn’t he tell me he was sick?” I take in a shaky breath. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t want to worry you. The nurse said he’d been dealing with this for years.”

  “But he seemed fine.” I shake my head, feeling so angry at myself for not noticing. He’s been slowing down a bit lately, but the man is in his late eighties. I assumed it was normal. “And he…he…” I can’t finish my sentence. I start crying again.

  I came to Eastwood because I had nowhere else to go. It was a time in my life when I felt like everyone in my life had turned against me. When they were more wrapped up in what the neighbors thought about them than what really mattered.

  When I felt like my life was one big failure after another.

  And he told me I was lucky to have the opportunity to fail.

  Because I was alive.

  And being alive isn’t anything I should ever take for granted.

  I didn’t really get it then. But I do now, and the realization makes my heart ache so much it breaks.

  Life is so short.

  Life is so fleeting.

  It’s scary to fail. It hurts to fail. It’s terrifying to not know if you’re going to have enough money to live comfortably or just barely cover bills. It sucks to feel all those shitty emotions, the ones that threaten to break you apart and beat you until there’s nothing left.

  But you can only feel those things if you’re alive. And if you’re alive, you can change it. Not overnight. Maybe not in a week’s time. Or a month. But if you keep living, you can change your life.

  And that’s what Grandpa wanted me to understand.

  I turn back to him and put my hand over his. “I get it,” I whisper. “I finally get it now.”

  Grandpa’s fingers twitch and his eyes flutter. Mom and I both gasp, holding our breath as we watch.

  “Grandpa?”

  “Hey…kiddo.” His eyes open and close. Mom goes to get the nurse, and I crouch down next to the bed. The nurse comes in to assess Grandpa, and I stand back, heart in my throat.

  He’s awake and talked to me. I knew he’d be okay. He’d pull through this.

  I grab another tissue and mop up my face, sitting back down in the chair after the nurse leaves. Mom pulls another chair around, sitting on the other side of the bed.

  “Carol,” Grandpa says, and Mom breaks down.

  “You scared us, Dad,” Mom cries. “Don’t do that again.”

  Grandpa laughs and then winces. “I don’t plan to.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” I ask.

  Grandpa slowly shakes his head, widening his eyes. “If I knew I was going to get drilled by you two, I would have told them not to put the stent in.”

  “That’s not funny, Dad.” Mom looks up, blinking away tears. “You’re not out of the woods yet.”

  Her words cause the anxiety to rise in my stomach again. It’s true, but I don’t want to think about that right now. Because the stent is working, and Grandpa is awake and talking to us.

  “I know,” Grandpa agrees. “You two didn’t leave Hawaii for me, did you?”

  “We did.”

  Grandpa shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  Things start to feel better again…and then the doctor comes in, repeating what the nurse said. Grandpa’s heart is full of plaque. He’s on an aggressive medication regimen now, and it’s important to make sure he takes his pills religiously. Grandpa pesters the doctor about going home, grumbling that the only reason he wants him to stay is to collect the insurance money. He’ll be here for at least another day.

  “See? I’m fine,” Grandpa tells us once the doctor leaves.

  “You’re not, Dad,” Mom presses. “And you have to take this seriously.”

  “Please,” I add. “Take it seriously.”

  Grandpa lets out a breath. “All right. I’ll cut back on the greasy food and will take my medication.”

  “Thank you.” I put my hand on Grandpa’s again. The nurse comes back in to help sit Grandpa up. They want him up and walking later this morning. I get up, needing to walk around as well. My legs are stiff and my shoulders ache. After a long plane ride, the drive from Chica
go to Eastwood, and then sitting tense in that uncomfortable chair, my body is feeling it.

  I have three missed calls from Rebecca, and I find a quiet corner to call her back, filling her in on Grandpa’s condition. Like Owen, she tells me to call if she needs anything and says she’ll be up later once the kids are at her in-laws’ house. My phone is dying, and I plug it in when I go back to the room.

  A new nurse comes on, and Mom and I both go into the waiting room while she does a full assessment on Grandpa.

  “We should get something to eat,” Mom tells me as she takes a seat in the waiting room.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m not either, but it’s been a while since either of us ate anything. The food in the cafeteria is bad, I’m sure, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “I guess I could try to eat.”

  Mom unzips her purse and pulls out a makeup bag. “Dad called while you were out of the room. He said Logan told him something interesting.”

  “Interesting?” I look at my mom, watching her fix her eyeliner. Did Logan tell Dad the engagement is a hoax? If he did…I don’t care. It doesn’t matter compared to what’s going on right now.

  “Logan told him that you said you don’t want to go back to grad school.”

  “I…I don’t.”

  Mom almost drops her mirror. “You’re kidding, right?”

  My mouth opens, and I slowly shake my head. “You’re really doing this now?”

  “We want what’s best for you. Grandpa would agree.”

  All the frustration I’ve been feeling over the years threatens to bubble up and explode. My heart is ripping in two, all while my stomach churns. I don’t know if I’m going to throw up, scream, or start throwing things.

  “No,” I say, voice small. “No, he wouldn’t.” I stare at my mother in disbelief, wishing I could write this off as her trying to distract herself from what’s actually going on. But I know better, and once Dad gets here, I’m sure he’ll get on me about it too.

  “I understood why you came here,” Mom goes on. That’s bullshit too. She’s so wrapped up in trying to impress people, in making friends only so she can drop their names to others, in constantly having to one-up each other. She doesn’t get it, and I don’t think she ever will.

  But I’m done with that. Done with not knowing who was with me or against me or who was using me or talking behind my back. Done with hanging around people who wrote the definition of first world problems and care more with the pH levels in their pools than the pollution in our oceans.

  “But now it’s time to leave.”

  “I don’t want to leave.” I close my eyes and tears roll down my cheeks. “I like it here. It’s not fancy, and we don’t have five-star restaurants or Ivy League colleges nearby, but this is home. The people in this town are great, and I like my job.”

  “You’re a bartender,” Mom spits. “You are better than that.”

  “I’m not better than anyone.” I shake my head. “And under normal circumstances, your job doesn’t define you. I mean, if I were a drug dealer, I’d say my line of work spoke volumes about my character, but I go to work and work hard. What’s the difference between me tending bars and working in an office?”

  “Your paycheck. It’s a big difference.”

  “I don’t need to be rich to be happy.”

  “Stop being ridiculous,” Mom goes on. “Money might not buy happiness, but it sure as hell makes your life easier. You’ll always have bills to pay and not having to worry if you’ll have enough can take so much stress off you.”

  “But I can pay my bills. I don’t have much, but I really am happy. Why is that so hard to believe?”

  Mom slowly shakes her head. “I don’t want to watch you throw your life away.”

  I clench my fists. “Then don’t.”

  Chapter 26

  Logan

  Danielle is sitting in the waiting room. Her legs are curled up under her and her head is resting against the wall. She’s wearing black leggings and my sweatshirt, and my heart swells in my chest when I see her through the glass doors. I have to get buzzed into the ICU waiting area, and Danielle gets up as soon as she sees me.

  I take her in my arms, hugging her tight and holding her close.

  “How is he?”

  “Um,” she starts, letting out a shaky breath. “Stable for now. He was in really bad shape, and he’s so lucky the paramedics got him here in time.”

  “That sounds promising.”

  She nods. “I thought so too, but the doctor isn’t as optimistic.”

  “And how are you?”

  “I’m…shaken but okay. And I’m still just shocked to hear that he was so sick. I had no idea. I mean…I saw some changes but wrote it off as him aging. You slow down when you get old.”

  “He was acting just fine before we left.”

  “I know, and that’s what scares me.” Danielle rubs her forehead. “The doctor said he’s at risk for another heart attack or even a stroke. His blood pressure was out of control and still needs to be closely monitored. He’s leaving in just two days.” She shakes her head. “It seems soon, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but it’ll be good for him to get out of here. He’ll be able to move around, which is important.”

  She nods, and her eyes fill with tears.

  “I’m sorry,” she squeaks out, voice tight.

  “Hey, it’s okay.” I take her in my arms again, cradling her against my chest. We sit on a bench, and Danielle wraps her arms around me as she cries. I rub her back, wishing I could make her better.

  “I hope so.” I reach over and grab a tissue for her. She wipes her eyes and blows her nose. “I must look so gross.”

  “No. You look like someone who’s been through a lot in the last few hours. Do you need anything? Coffee? Food?”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  “I’ll get you something.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  We get up and go to the vending machine in the hall outside the waiting area. Danielle has to be so exhausted, and I’m sure she’s going to stay here for the rest of the day. She gets a water and we go back into the waiting room. Danielle rests her head against my shoulder, and I put my arm around her.

  She puts the water bottle down and hooks one arm around my waist, getting as comfortable as she can on this couch. I run my fingers through her hair. She’s right about to fall asleep when there’s a commotion inside the ICU. Danielle jerks up and then gasps when she sees the nurses rushing into a room.

  “That’s my grandpa’s room.”

  Holding her hand in mine, we go through another set of doors and to her grandpa’s room. Her mother is standing in the corner, out of the way of the nurses who are working on her grandpa.

  “What’s happening?” Danielle’s eyes fill with tears, and her mother comes over.

  “We were talking, and he just…he just…stopped breathing.”

  “No.” Danielle shakes her head back and forth. “No, no, no!”

  She turns to me, tears streaming down her face. The nurses start doing CPR, and we stand there, watching in horror as the heart monitor starts to flatline. I wrap Danielle in my arms, turning her away. She doesn’t need to see this. She doesn’t need this to be the last memory she has of her grandpa.

  * * *

  “Danielle?” I say softly, turning the car off. We just pulled into the driveway of the farmhouse. We left the hospital, and Danielle said she wanted to go home. Her mother is in the backseat, and no one said a word on the drive here.

  But what do you say after something like this?

  Carol and I get out, and she heads up to the house. Danielle hasn’t moved. I open the door and reach in, unbuckling her seatbelt.

  “Do you want to go to my house instead?” I ask, knowing it’s going to be hard for her to step foot inside the house.

  She blinks, and fat tears roll down her face. “No. I…I…I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry.
” I extend my hand. “Take your time.”

  Nodding, she wipes her eyes and takes my hand. We walk up the front porch steps together. Her mom already went inside. Danielle hesitates before she crosses the threshold. More tears spill from her eyes, and I hate seeing her hurt like this.

  If I could take it all away, I would.

  “I want to lie down,” she tells me.

  “Want me to come with you?”

  She nods, and we go upstairs and get into her bed. Danielle pulls the blankets up over her and turns to me, burying her head against my chest as she cries. I rub her back until she falls asleep. Carefully moving out of bed so I don’t wake her up, I tuck her in and go downstairs.

  Carol is in the kitchen, with a bottle of Jack on the counter.

  “My father and I didn’t see eye to eye on most things,” she starts, pouring a small amount of whiskey in a glass. “But we both cared about the girls.” She drinks the whiskey. “I’m glad Danielle has you.”

  “Yeah. She does have me.”

  Carol adds another splash of whiskey to the glass. “I…I need to make funeral arrangements. Will you stay with Danielle?”

  “Of course. Do you need anything?” I run my hand through my hair, not sure what I can do to help.

  Carol blinks away tears. “No, thank you though.” One of the cats jumps up on the counter, and Carol shoos it away. “Actually, do you know where the cat food is? I think they are hungry?”

  I go into the pantry but don’t find any food. “Looks like you’re all out. I can run out and get some.”

  “That would be helpful. Thank you.” Carol looks at the cat that’s twisting around her ankles. “I don’t know their names.”

  “They’re easy. There’s Black Cat, Orange Cat, and Tabby Cat.”

  She smiles and blinks back tears. “That sounds like my dad.”

  “And the horses are Sundance, Bailey, and Alibi.”

  “Oh my God. I forgot about them. I don’t know anything about horses.”

  “We had horses when we were kids. My sister was into showing for a while. I’ll take care of them too.” And the chickens and goats, but I don’t bring them up. Carol seems overwhelmed enough as it is.