Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Matt
"What a lovely girl!" his Nana said on the way home. After Papa died, Nana moved into an assisted living home. No Shady Acres was this.
Oh, no. Nana moved into the kind with a hefty entrance fee, a 24/7 convenience store that stocked local organic produce and European face creams, an Olympic swimming pool, and a library whose librarian had retired from the Library of Congress. Outdoors, there was a greenhouse for those who enjoyed gardening, 24 pickleball courts, and a small amphitheater where Shakespeare's plays were staged in the warmer months.
Matt loved being invited to eat with her in the dining room, with a celebrity chef in charge of the food. Dinner companions could include a former assistant secretary of defense, plenty of Harvard emeritus professors, and the occasional Booker Prize or Pulitzer Prize winner.
“Nessa’s great,” he said, watching the road carefully. Boston traffic wasn’t bad on Saturday nights, and going from Newton to Lexington should be easy. I-95 wasn’t a cesspool of road rage this time of night.
"Miriam has talked about her for years but I've never met her before."
"Quite a coincidence," Matt commented neutrally.
"Isn't it? Such a shame Nessa’s mother came down with that headache and she had to step in and bring Miriam. So, are you two dating?"
If he compared notes with Nessa when he saw her, he had a feeling they’d figure out that seeing each other at Cats might not have been a coincidence.
"Ah, I wouldn't say that, exactly."
"What would you say, then, dear?"
"I would say we're friends, Nana."
" Close friends?" she asked sweetly.
"Nana!"
"All right, all right! Sorry." But her eyes twinkled, and she didn't look very sorry. “I would like to meet my great-grandchild one day. Henry never had that chance.”
“Twist the guilt screws in a little harder, Nana.”
“I’m not getting any younger, and neither are you. How old is Nessa, anyhow?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Perfect. You’re thirty-one.”
“How is that perfect?”
“Henry and I are five years apart.” It touched him that she used the present tense when referring to his grandpa.
“Women live four to five years longer than men. Shouldn’t I look for a thirty-six year old, then, so we can die at the same time?”
“Love doesn’t work that way, Matt. You fall for who you fall for and you have no choice in the matter.”
“Then why did you and Mame set us up like this?”
“Who, me? I did nothing of the sort.” Her stunned, guilty look made him nearly bark with laughter.
“Hmph.”
“Oh, you sound just like Henry when you make that noise. He did that, too, when he didn’t believe me.”
“If Papa were here he’d have hooted you and Mame into the next town and told you to stop meddling in my life.”
“Well, he’s not here any more, is he?”
The spot where his ribs covered his heart caved in.
“I’m sorry, Nana. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know you didn’t, dear. And tonight was lovely. The performance made me forget my regular life.”
“Isn’t that one of the purposes of the arts? To transcend?”
“Such a reflective thought.”
“You taught me to appreciate shows, Nana. Took me to the Wheelock Family Theater when I was tiny.”
“Other than that time you peed through the seat, those trips were wonderful.”
“I was four, Nana. And that was a huge soda you gave me at intermission.”
Laughter filled the cab of his Bronco, her wrinkles lifting as she smiled. Time waited for no one, he knew, and her words hit him a little differently tonight than they would have a few weeks ago.
The surprise of seeing Nessa was still fresh, proximity to her like a drug that got him high. He’d seen Cats six or seven times already, at various community theaters. Nana wasn’t one for television, but live theater was her jam. Papa had always supported her and attended, though he was more comfortable on a golf course.
She had three different season subscriptions. Matt’s favorite was Vokes Theater in Weston, an old late 1800s theater built by a millionaire for his actress bride.
“You lit up when you saw her, you know,” Nana said slyly as he made the turn onto her street. “I’ve never seen you smile so wide.”
“Sure you have. At New City Creamery in Sudbury when I get a large Chocolate Cherry Cordial after we go to a show at Vokes.”
“I’ve never met a man more aroused by ice cream than by a woman.”
“Nana!”
“You started it,” she sniffed, but his grandmother couldn’t help herself and giggled. “I cannot believe my little girl’s little boy has turned into such a fine man. Not young man – man .”
“Thank you.”
“I mean it, Matt. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Double thank you.”
“I never thought you’d take the path you’ve chosen, though. I must confess that.”
“I’m not a priest, Nana. I don’t listen in a confessional and no penance dispensed.”
“Oh, good. Because I’d hate to turn into a puff of smoke and a little crispy pile of ashes if I had to confess somewhere.”
“You? What sins are you hiding? You didn’t hang your trowel on the hook in the garage after using it? Didn’t give Betty Mahoney her torte dish back after she brought you one for book club night?”
“You’re quaint. Cute. Very funny. Your generation thinks they invented scandal. Plenty of people in mine had affairs, cheated on each other. Lots of abortions, long before they were legal. We were beards – whether we knew it or not– for gay men, and we raised disabled children at home before there were laws giving parents and kids options.” Her words came out strong and fast, shocking him.
“Nana, I didn’t mean to make fun of you.”
“I know that. And I can take a joke as well as anyone else. It’s just...” She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “You’re right. I didn’t give Betty her dish back. And it wasn’t a torte. It was a frittata.”
“You criminal.”
“You can’t turn me in to the authorities. I claim asylum.”
“And as a member of the clergy, I grant it. See? Who needs a doctor or a lawyer for a grandson when you can have a minister?”
“You keep changing the subject away from Nessa. She’s beautiful. Sweet. Seems smart, and Miriam says she is very good with computers. She could make a good wife and mother.”
“Who said anything about marrying her?” he choked out, nearly swerving as he searched for a parking spot in her lot.
“You’re both wedding experts, aren’t you? That cuts through plenty of nonsense. I am sure you both know what you don’t want.”
“No live doves,” he said with a shudder. “And no more ducklings or baby bunnies. There are too many hawks in this part of Massachusetts.”
“Doves? Baby ducks? Bunnies? When Henry and I got married in the fifties, the men wore black tuxes, my bridesmaids had simple chiffon dresses, and we honeymooned in the Smoky Mountains by camping in his new Oldsmobile station wagon. The reception was in the hall of the Methodist church. Weddings these days are too elaborate.”
“If they weren’t, I don’t think Nessa would have a job,” he noted.
“Fair enough. Miriam told me Nessa has been tapped to go to Scotland in two years for a castle wedding. Can you imagine?”
He wasn’t about to mention his offer to officiate in the Seychelles.
“The love between the couple is the most important part of any wedding, Nana,” he said, steering the conversation back to some semblance of normal. Matt climbed out of the car and went around to her side, opening her door and helping her stand. Her cane was in the backseat and once she was upright, he reached behind the passenger side and found it.
Setting her up for success, she grasped his arm and used the cane for stability. Slowly, but with purpose, they made their way to the main doors.
“It’s painful, you know,” Nana said as the whoosh of the automatic system pushed scented air in their faces.
“Your knee?” Her recent surgery loomed large in his mind.
“Well, that too. But I meant love. True love.”
“Painful?”
“Very. Look at me now.” She sighed as they walked past Penny, the new concierge, who stood while tapping away on a tablet, her half-hearted wave not a sign of apathy, but concentration on helping another resident.
“You look great, Nana.”
“I meant that I am alone. Heartbroken, and alone. I have no future, Matthew. My life has been lived. And the man who was part of it for 58 years is gone. I love – loved —no, love — him with every fiber of my being. And there are no more kisses. No more sighs. No more shared meals, no laughter, no arguments. I’ll never hear him tell me I’m being overwrought about food at a family gathering, and he’ll never hear me complain that he forgets to flush the toilet and leaves nose hair shavings all over the sink.”
“That's, um...”
“What I miss most is that so much of my inner love – the love you don’t realize is percolating inside you at all times – has nowhere to go. I have plenty of it for my daughter and son, and for you grandchildren. For my son-in-law, as well. And future great-grandchildren.” Her added wink made him laugh. “No one talks about it, though. The love that seeks but cannot find. Where does love go when its intended destination no longer exists but in my memory and my dreams?”
Tears pricked at the edge of his eyes, quick and vast, consuming him wholly before he realized what had happened.
“Nana.” He reached for her hand and looked at her, finding her eyes shining with unshed tears, too.
“I look at you and your mother and I see Henry. Bits and pieces, in shadow and angles. He’s here inside you, yes, but he’s not here.” A tear spilled from one lower lid, down to her textured cheek. “Painful. Love hurts.”
“Yes. I see that.”
Nana took her hand out of his and pressed her palm flat against Matt’s heart.
“If you’re very, very careful, very, very open, and extremely lucky, Matthew, you’ll feel it. This is the only pain I wish upon you, my boy. May you one day feel this kind of pain. It hurts, but I wouldn’t trade a moment of my life with Henry for any of the ache.”
“Thank you,” he said, pulling her in for a hug. “Thank you, Nana. I want that pain, too.”