28. CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 28
Gray
M alou wanted to sit on the porch on Christmas Day, so I chopped wood and started up the outdoor firepit.
It was clear and cool. The sun shone, the sky was blue, and the wind was non-existent as if taking a break on Christmas.
I carried Malou after Willow made sure an Adirondack chair had been wrapped in a couple of blankets and there were a couple more to put over Malou. Her immune system was shot, and even a garden-variety cold could kill her.
"I don't know why y'all are so worried that I'll fall sick. I am sick. I am dyin'. Real soon," Malou complained when I tucked her in.
“You do you, and you let me do me,” I insisted.
After a while she said amused, "You know, I never thought I'd like you, Gray, but I can see why she fell in love with you."
Willow sat down on the adjoining Adirondack chair. "Did you know Dad when Mama dated him?"
"No. I lived in Savannah then. I had a boyfriend, and I followed him. Which was a stupid thing to do," Malou reminisced. "Rose told me about Gray when I came to visit on a weekend. How great he was. How handsome. Later on, I found out her boyfriend was Gray Rutherford. I told Rose she should've led with fuckin' multi-millionaire."
Willow laughed. "I saw Mama and Dad's wedding photos. You weren't there. How come?"
Before Malou could respond, I came clean. After all it was my family that had fucked up here. "Grandma didn't want her there."
Willow frowned. "Why? Mama had no other family."
"'Cause I'm black and as trailer trash as your mama," Malou said sardonically.
She was having a good day today and had some energy, and with that came her biting humor.
"That's just bullshit," Willow remarked. "Grandma was a racist."
"Your grandma had a whole lot of flaws," I agreed.
"Miss Malou, I'm real sad that I didn't make the time to meet you before," Willow said honestly. "It was wrong of me…of us. You're mama's family, and we just ignored you…like we ignored her ."
"Oh, get off your sad little guilt carousel, girl," Malou muttered, irritated. "I'm dyin'. I don't want to hear sob stories. Now tell me about this, Mike. He looks like a handsome man. Is he good in bed?"
I groaned. "She's my daughter, Malou."
Malou laughed her big belly laugh. "Come on, Gray, you think your girl is still a virgin?"
"There are two kinds of people who don't have sex," I indulged Malou because I loved seeing her zest for life. "One's parents and one's children. Period."
"And in the meantime, everyone is fuckin' around." Malou closed her eyes then, and I knew she was going to fall asleep any second.
I was about to pick her up and carry her in, when I heard her faint voice, "I'm glad y'all are here. It's good to have family."
She thought of us as a family because we were Rose's. Such unconditional acceptance was not something I was familiar with. Bonnie didn't care that Rose was my wife; she still disliked her and didn't care to hide it. My parents didn't accept Rose until their dying day. Here was Malou, who we'd shunned; hell, she hadn't been allowed to come to Rose's wedding—and she accepted us fully and with an open heart.
That sentiment wasn't lost on Willow, who followed me when I took Malou back into her room. Rose joined us when she saw us.
"She got tired?" Rose murmured as she made space on Malou's bed so I could put her down.
Once I did, Rose removed Malou’s Ugg boots and tucked her under the comforter. She stroked her cheek as Willow and I watched.
"I wish I could do more for her," she whispered. "More to make her comfortable. I just…."
"Babe, don't get angry," I said, and she flashed concerned eyes at me. I sighed. She was always expecting the worst from me, and I was doing the same fucking thing, expecting her to lose her shit with me all the time. This needed to stop. "I hired a nurse for Malou. He's experienced with…ah…patients like her. He'll make sure that she gets her injections at home, so we don't have to take her to the clinic and—"
Rose ran to me and leaped into my arms. I barely caught her and myself before falling. She kissed my mouth. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
"Fuck, Rose, it's the least I can do." I wrapped my arms around her. I didn't care why she was in my arms; I was grateful that she was. And she felt damn good.
"No" —she shook her head, and tears streamed down her cheeks— "you don't have to do anything for her. She's nobody to you."
"She's family, Mama," Willow said and joined our three-way hug.
Mike, Edgar, and I spent the morning prepping the retaining wall and putting in temporary supports. After I took a shower, I came downstairs to the smells of food and cooking. In the past, while Rose cooked, Willow, Jude, and I would do our own thing. Rose would be alone making a meal for us—making our holiday while we'd not only not contribute; we wouldn't even keep her company.
This was not how it used to be. When they were little, they hung around the kitchen with her, and so did I. As they got older, they were more drawn to me. It all happened so slowly and organically that I never even noticed that we'd left Rose alone .
Not this Christmas and never ever again!
The kitchen of Angel's Rest B it was a weaving together of our family, thread by thread, into a tapestry that felt stronger and more vibrant than it had in years. This was what the holidays were supposed to be about—this unity, this laughter, and the shared making of a meal that symbolized so much more than just food on the table.