Chapter Thirty-Seven
Thanks to King EZ, I’ve arrived a mere hour after finding out Grandma Helen was here.
At last update, she was in and out of consciousness, her speech greatly affected by the stroke, but I haven’t seen Wanda, Rita, or the rest of the gals since my arrival.
Not that surprising, considering the instant I slapped on a visitor’s badge, I sprinted from the reception desk to the elevator to speed walk across the tile floor of the ICU.
To then stand like a scared little girl outside my grandma’s hospital room door.
I’m braver than I’ve ever been; I can do hard things.
Expelling my breath until I don’t have any left, I wrap my fingers around the cool metal handle and yank open the door.
Antiseptic and the steady beeping of monitors greet me, and my grandma lies there in the center of a tiny bed that manages to make her look tinier still.
She’s so pale, her lips and skin bled of color, causing every bruise and protruding vein to stand out. With her features so gaunt, cheeks hollowed out, she appears to have aged a decade since the last time I saw her.
“Oh, Grandma,” I cry, saltwater trails leaking down my cheeks.
I’ve never once considered her fragile, but it’s the word that flashes like a neon sign. She’s the reason I’m me, and the idea of losing her for good…?
No more wine and margarita nights or unsolicited advice? No more correcting grammar or piano notes, coercing me into social obligations, or pressuring me into taking a much-needed break? No more “dear girl,” or being wrapped in her incredible hugs that smelled like rosewater, Downy, and vanilla?
No more being graciously flattered and coddled like the little girl I rarely got to be?
A mournful noise erupts, ripping through me and out in the air to get swallowed up by the noisy flashing monitors.
My feet propel me forward, and I fling myself over her, gently and barely making contact, but unable to help myself after being afraid I wouldn’t get to say goodbye—even though I don’t want to do that, either.
I’m bawling uncontrollably now, all my stifled emotions from the past few months barraging me at once.
“You were right,” I say between jags. “I stopped taking care of myself or paying attention to anything my body was telling me. As hard as I tried, I’m shit at work/life balance and even worse at not giving my all, plus a pinch more for good measure.
“If I’m being completely transparent, I thought you ladies were off your rockers when we first made our bargain.
I told myself it wasn’t real life, so I left it behind for a city that doesn’t give a shit about me, where I don’t have any friends, only to discover my time at Lakeview with all of you was the realest, most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced.
I’ve been unhappy and missing everybody since.
I never should’ve left, not when my family and my heart are here. ”
I take hold of her hand the way she’s taken hold of mine countless times, trying to pour into her the strength she poured into me.
“S’oookay, d-dear gurrl.” Her voice comes out slightly garbled, as if she has to work for her words. “I’m…ffine.”
Not me. I fall apart, nothing but a blubbering mess of limbs, an achy chest, and gratitude that I’m not too late, because we both know she’s not truly fine. Not in the way I desperately long for her to be.
I’ve resolved to remain fully in the present, savoring each and every minute we have left.
Since I’ve also learned my lesson about waiting, I blurt out the words that’ve cycled through my head again and again since returning to Miami.
“I’m so sorry how we left things. I really admire you so much for getting yourself out of a bad situation, and I just love you so much, I hope you know that. ”
While Grandma Helen’s still struggling with her speech, the cadence tells me she’s returned the sentiment.
The door swings open, and I pivot, expecting a nurse or a doctor I can quiz for information.
Instead, in walk Wanda, Rita, and Arlene, arms loaded with vending machine fare.
Sophia, the bubbies, and Vonetta and Gertie follow behind and, bringing up the rear, shaking his head in exasperation, is Noah.
Our eyes meet over the tops of several old lady heads like no time has passed, and my nervous system goes haywire. Sparklers fizz and fireworks burst, and this is a moment I’d gladly pitch a tent in and stay for a while.
Wanda’s voice raises above the din. “Can you believe Noah tried to make us eat cafeteria foo—Mia Bobina! You’re here!”
She tosses her bounty on an empty chair to pull me into her arms, not bothering to wait until I’ve wholly turned her way. I’m fairly sure my spine’s not supposed to twist sidewise like that, but it feels so good to be hugged, I let her squeeze for all she’s worth.
“I recognized the signs Dr. Vasquez taught us right away,” Wanda sobs in my ear, “and I was fast as I could be when I ran to the phone.” Sorrow creases her features as she pulls back and looks at me like she wants forgiveness, the noise she makes in the back of her throat akin to the wail I released mere minutes ago.
God it hurts—even as amazing as it is to be together again—so fucking much my lungs forget how to work in intervals.
“It’s okay,” I tell her as we attempt to get our sobbing under control. “You did a great job getting her here, don’t give it another minute, okay?”
Wanda gives me a teary nod, and we exchange I love yous, then I straighten and turn, opening my arms wide to embrace the rest of the gang.
“They’re going to come kick us out again if they find out how many of us are in here,” Noah says, and the Cronies roll their eyes at him the way they used to roll them at me.
Poor guy. With this horde of grandmas, it honestly takes two sensible grandchildren to manage.
“At this point, I’ll tell that crabby nurse to go ahead and call security,” Bette adds with a huff. “It’s been a while since a beefy man carried me away.”
“Whatever, it hasn’t been that long,” I retort. “That bouncer carried you up and down that stage at the comedy club.”
She tsks. “That was ages ago. Leave it to Mia to consider going months without the touch of a man a short stretch.”
Perfect. Don’t look at Noah, don’t look at Noah.
I look at Noah.
He’s gazing back at me, not bothering to hide the longing in his features. There’s also a mischievous twinkle that says if we were anywhere but here, he’d be breaking my no-touching streak.
Everything within me reaches for him, but then Ruth shouts “Incoming” and half of the Cronies dart into the bathroom like they’ve definitely done this before.
I’m stifling my giggle, and then my heart is soaring as Noah shuffles past Wanda and Rita, almost to me at long last.
I take a few steps, unable to wait.
My heart soars as he encircles me in his arms, being held by him after months away such a glorious relief.
It’s all I can do not to burst into tears, but I pivot toward the nurse who’s stepped fully into the room, lacing my fingers with Noah’s.
Assuring myself he’s here and he’s real, and damn do I need a hand to squeeze.
The tingly butterflies die one by one as the nurse relays a slightly more detailed prognosis than Wanda gave me. They can’t stop the bleeding in the brain or repair the damage with surgery due to its location. Some patients go on like this for about a month, but for most it’s a matter of days.
Days.
As in Grandma Helen won’t be in very many more of mine.
Despite hearing the direness of the situation before, I think there was a tiny part of me that thought I’d get here and somehow be able to fix it.
And I can’t, not even close.
Reality sinks in and it sinks in hard.
“What do we do?” I ask, my voice strangled as my broken heart struggles to beat.
“Just talk with her, hold her hand.” As the nurse relays the likely changes in her breathing and responsiveness, everything feels like I’m hearing it underwater. Muted but cataclysmic, details that leave me gripping Noah’s hand like a lifeline as more tears stream down my face.
Rita hands me a box of tissues, bless her, and I wipe my cheeks and then my nose, sniffing loudly and digging for another.
“We’ve adjusted her medications to make sure she isn’t in any pain,” the nurse assures me as she finishes checking vitals. “Right now, our focus is on keeping your grandmother as comfortable as possible during the transition.”
Transition?
Anger rises at the stupid word that’s so far from what’s happening it just pisses me off. “Transition” implies there will be something at the end; a place where I can visit.
I want to rage at the skies and pound my fists and throw the biggest tantrum the world has ever seen. I live in that moment.
Die in that moment.
Plead for another way.
But the worst part is, I don’t even have to send my brain searching down a hundred pathways to know…
There’s nothing else to do.
A fresh wave of grief crashes over me, my knees nearly buckling beneath me.
Noah curls me closer to his side, causing my broken heart to both swell and break a little more when he whispers, “I’m so sorry I can’t fix it for you.”
My brave face falls to the floor, not helping matters anyway. With a tiny whimper, I turn into his embrace and let him hold me the way I’ve craved since he walked in.
Since I left him behind, actually.
“There are still quite a few of you in here.” The nurse narrows her eyes on what’s only half of us, and when a clang comes from the bathroom, we clear our throats and speak extra loudly, as subtle as a firetruck, sirens blaring.
Either she’s too busy to care or not paid enough to deal with it, because there’s no way she missed it, but then she’s off to attend to her other duties.
We release a collective sigh at the close of the door, then grannies come barreling out of the bathroom like clowns from a tiny car.
My phone rings—Simone again, even though I texted her about my family emergency. I excuse myself and step into the hall, surer about my next step than I’ve ever been.
Whether it’s a career, relationship, or a life that no longer suits you, sometimes the most courageous, best thing you can do for yourself is to walk away.
Right then and there, I give notice I’ll be permanently relocating to the other side of Florida’s dick, although not in those precise words.
In another turn of the unexpected, Jan’s name pops on my display next—maybe because she heard about my grandma?
I duck into an alcove to fill her in, only to be met with another plot twist.
Once I reenter the room, Rita hollers “Relax, everybody. It’s just Mia.”
Minutes ago, I would’ve claimed I might never laugh again, but I snicker at the entire chaotic scene. It’s like cockroaches fleeing and emerging with the flick of a light switch, and I wouldn’t have my grannies any other way.
They return to their chatter, Wanda fussing over my grandma’s pillows and the setting on her bed. One or two of us go all watery and set off a wave, then Bette cracks a joke and the ladies are sharing stories I’ve never heard before.
And I just take it in, breathe it in, tell myself to remember this moment.
All the moments we had this summer. The memories they shared, the hardships they’ve survived and ceilings they shattered. Taking on risks and regrets on their behalf that pushed me to be stronger, more myself, to dislocate my finger.
That led me to the guy rubbing soothing circles over my back, letting me lean so heavily into him.
When I trust I can speak the words without crying, I crane my neck toward Noah, peering into calming blue eyes that featured heavily in my daydreams. “You came to the hospital for my grandma?”
“She’s got me weeding her yard and trimming her hedges every other Sunday, too,” Noah says, affection underlying the words, and a laugh startles out of me.
Time grinds to a halt as he reaches up and tucks a stray curl behind my ear, callused fingertips sending goose bumps across my skin. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” I whisper, warmth winding through me.
His lips move next to my ear. “I changed my mind about long-distance. I can’t go another month without you.
It’s making me miserable. Because…” He hesitates, his jaw flexing as if the words are heavy.
“I’m in love with you, Mia. And I know this isn’t the time, but I told myself if I ever got the chance again, I’d take it. ”
How can a heart be so full and so broken?
Now I’m fighting tears for a different reason. This next stretch of time is undoubtedly going to be emotional, filled with highs and lows and saying goodbye, and I don’t want to have to say goodbye.
All that makes it seem possible is the man holding me together whom I’ve fallen head over heels for.
Yet it no longer scares me, because being apart only showed me how unbearable life is away from him.
“I can’t take it anymore, either, but I don’t want to have to spend our limited spare time driving back and forth to Miami. ”
Confusion creases his forehead, so I switch to nodding and nodding, a bobblehead struggling to find her words
Slow it down.
“What I’m trying to say is that I love you, too. That I belong here.” I sweep to generally encompass the people in the room. “With all of you.”
I clear my throat, gathering the attention of everyone as I raise my voice over the din and beeping monitors. “Today Jan called and asked me if I’d be interested in managing the entire community so she can officially retire. And I said yes.”
There’s a roar of celebration that summons a nurse, who catches us all red-handed and insists the majority of us return to the waiting room until she’s administered meds.
But Grandma Helen lifts her arm, catching my attention.
“N-need M-Mia…stay. Need her…help…resolving…” It’s hard to see her struggle, helplessness flooding every nook and cranny, but I’ll do anything she asks, surely she knows that.
She exhales, exhausted, and in that unguarded moment of weakness and pain, I see that we won’t have a month or even a week.
“Call yerr mom. For me. Need you…help fix. N-no-regrets.”