Finally, we were all in bed. Jude had come back to Ken’s house after her book club to sleep with him in his bed. She said she loves getting massages from Ken and they use eucalyptus oil! She said Ken has such big, warm, strong hands. Ken looked at his hands. Oh boy! said Grandma. Well, have fun!
Jude said, C’mon, gorgeous. She wanted to go to Ken’s bedroom and start getting oil rubbed on her. Away you kids go! said Grandma, even though Ken was one hundred years old. I’m glad you’re still doing it at your age! said Grandma.
I froze for one second and everything got blurry. I ran into our bedroom and stared at Mao and counted to ten. Grandma came into the room, laughing. Who is that again? she said. MAO! I yelled really loud. Like everything was his fault. I dove into the bed and pulled the blanket over my head. Grandma brushed her teeth in the adjacent bathroom and talked to herself about things falling onto the floor but we could find them in the morning—which meant that I would find them in the morning. In the morning I can’t bend, said Grandma to herself, and in the afternoon I can’t remember! Finally she came to bed. We were lying two feet above Jude’s thong. I thought how Willit Braun would not want to be in this house right now. Grandma told me she was so happy that we’d come to Fresno. She moved her head to look hard at me and said, Thank you, Swiv, for coming with me. She was being so serious. You’re welcome, I said. It means so much to me, sweetheartchen, she said. I mean it. Thank you. Okay, you’re welcome already! I said. I thought about Gord, about how I’d try to be serious with Gord sometimes because it felt a bit nice. For one second. Hoooooo, said Grandma. Are you having regular bowel movements here in Fresno?
Why did she say here in Fresno? Is that another problem with this place? I put my pillow over her face just for one second. She grabbed the pillow and hit me over the head with it. I took it back and put it under my head so she’d stop play-fighting and focus on living. I really needed to see Lou and Ken, she told me. People other than Grandma would have been talking about how they’d almost died from over-drinking and sailing that day, but not Grandma. I think she’d forgotten about all that. I really needed to talk with Lou, she said. What did you talk about? I asked her. We just talked about the truth! said Grandma. Is he suffering? I said. Well, of course, said Grandma. On and off. Everybody needs to let Lou be Lou. What’s his house like? I said. Oh! said Grandma. It’s amazing! Every room is filled with things that he’s found on his walks. Amazing things. Objets d’art! Beautiful, beautiful antiques and you name it, Lou’s got it. He has a hammock strung up on the porch. Does he have a bed? I asked. Somewhere in there, I assume, said Grandma. He has a roommate, too, who is lovely. Is she a beautiful lady? I asked Grandma. In fact, she is! said Grandma. I don’t think they’re sleeping together, though. Oh my freaking god. Grandma! I’m gonna suffocate you for real! Lou calls her The Presence, like the Dalai Lama, said Grandma. She’s an artist and also takes care of the plants at a mall. Lou used to live in the garage after his heart attack but now he’s in the house. That’s the great thing about California, said Grandma. You can live in a garage year-round!
All your nephews love beautiful ladies, I said. They really do, don’t they, said Grandma. Hoooooooo. They really do. Well except for whatshisname, he loved justice and … I know! I said. He loved rainforests more, but then changed his mind back to beautiful ladies. Thaaaaaat’s right, said Grandma. You remember everything, don’t you! She said, “A happiness that forgot nothing, not even murder.” That’s my friend Albert. What are you talking about, Grandma? I whispered. Rieux sees it in Tarrou’s face, said Grandma. Now that is the meaning of life. Right there. Are you drunk, Grandma? I whispered. What? she said. No! I don’t think so. Am I? Maybe I am! Joy, said Grandma, is resistance. Oh, I said. To what? Then she was off laughing again and there was nothing anybody could do about it.
13.
This morning I got up first to do the assignment that Mom had given me a million years ago and that I’d totally forgotten about, which was to write about Grandma’s life. Everybody else, even Grandma, was on California time. She didn’t believe in jet lag. Or she was dead. No, she was sleeping. I sat on the floor in our adjacent bathroom with the door shut so Grandma wouldn’t be bothered by the light. I put a rolled-up towel on the floor along the skinny line of light that shone through the door. One thing I have to get off my chest is that I found out Ken is a grandpa! He had a wife before Jude. She lives somewhere else. She was also beautiful, according to Grandma—although I’m starting to think that Grandma thinks everyone is beautiful. Ken and his wife had children and now those children have children and live in San Francisco in an adobe house, which makes Ken a grandpa who has pictures of naked women in his room and gets massages from them with oil. He loves nudity, just like Grandma. Now I know what people mean about California.