I went to help my brother find a stud.
Holly
CHAPTER 7
“This is exactly what they mean when they say, ‘If he wanted to, he would.’”
Jillian was holding up the brown paper bag. I’d gone to get it from the car because she wanted to see it after I told her the story.
We were sitting in the sun on the small, plant-filled balcony outside Grandma’s living room. She was napping.
Grandma didn’t nap.
She especially didn’t nap when people were over to visit.
I’d texted the family group chat today and told them it was time to start saying their goodbyes, that if they wanted to come, they should come now.
“You should find out who this guy is,” Jillian said.
“I think he’s old,” I said.
“Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. He does old-guy stuff? He travels with a compressor.”
She nodded sagely. “Yeah. That does give me ‘dad’ vibes.”
We had the Doobie Brothers playing softly from a small speaker. We were sitting in the sun, drinking iced coffee. I hadn’t spent enough time outside recently. It was nice.
Speaking of nice . . .
“I noticed a cute guy in the elevator earlier,” I said.
My sister arched her eyebrow. “You did? What did he look like?”
“Kind of rugged? Beard. He had a dog and a tool belt. Red tools.”
“Red tools, green flag. Did you talk to him?”
I shook my head. “I’m not in a decent headspace for that right now. At all. But it was nice to finally notice someone again. Good to know there’s still a sex drive in there somewhere,” I mumbled.
We sat in silence, listening to the music while she peered at me through her sunglasses. “So how long.”
She didn’t have to tell me what she meant. I gazed out over the railing at the pink trumpet trees in bloom. “One to three days. That’s my best guess.”
She let out a slow breath through her nose. “She had a great life.”
I nodded. “She really did. And she’s going to have a great death too. Surrounded by people who love her, at home, not in pain.”
“I hope I die like that,” she said. “Or doing what I love.”
“Not me. I wanna die doing what I hate. Put me out of my misery, kill me on the stair-stepper.”
She laughed and balled up her napkin and threw it at me.
She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “This is so hard. Like, seriously. How do you do this for work?”
“It’s easier when it’s strangers,” I said.
“No, it isn’t. I’d be a hot mess doing this, you’re built different.”
“I’m not. It’s hard as hell. Even for me.”
“Did you know that it’s not ‘hard as hell’？” she said. “It’s hard as hail.”
I tilted my head. “Is it?”
“Yeah. You know who told me that? This homeless guy at the farmers market.”
“No. I’m googling this.” I picked up my phone and typed. “Oh my God. You’re right. I mean, the internet is a little divided on it, but there’s definitely a ‘hard as hail’ camp.”
“It makes sense. Hail is hard.”
“Hell is also hard, though,” I said.
“Well, we’ll never know. Neither of us are going.” She checked her phone. “I gotta take off,” she said, getting up. “I’m getting a new guinea pig foster.”
“You and your guinea pigs.”
“I love ’em. They only need four hours of sleep a day.”
“Like someone I know.”
She stuck her tongue out at me.
When Jillian was gone, we had a rare lull in visitors again, only this time the energy was very different. Grandma wasn’t awake, talking to me. The apartment was buttoned up, the lights were off, and the curtains were drawn. It was eerie. It was never this quiet during sunlight hours.
She’d sleep more and more now. That was normal. She might start to have visions, see people who’d passed on before her. Her mother, Grandpa. She might see a light or an angel. A tunnel.
All normal.
Some patients wait until the loved ones they want to see have come. Then they let go. A lot of people rally right before they pass. They have one really great day where they’re awake and alert. They might even ask for food or something to drink. Then when everyone leaves, they slip away.
I hoped for that the most. I wanted her last moments to be her, surrounded by everyone who loves her.