Chapter 13 Nelly #2
I tried hard to listen, but my ears were filled with a droning buzz that drowned everything else out. I was crushing the empty water bottle in my hands, the crinkling noise adding to the chaos in my head.
The bereavement counselor arrived at some point, but I was in such a daze, still processing very little. Even if I could hear and understand, my brain and body were so filled-to-bursting with disbelief and sadness that I couldn’t ingest anything more without exploding.
“Elmhurst will contact you tomorrow, Miss Shaw.” A pause. “Miss Shaw, did you hear me?”
Another pause.
“Can you grab her more water, Donald?”
Movement. A door whining open.
Moments later, the bottle I’d brutalized was replaced with a fresh one. My limp fingers mechanically curled around it.
A hand wrapped around my shoulder gently. It squeezed, bringing me momentarily to life.
“Go home and rest, Miss Shaw. Elmhurst will call, but everything is already sorted. You don’t need to worry about a thing.” Her words should be comforting, but instead the word ‘home’ made tears prick my eyes and tremors begin to shake my body.
“Okay,” I breathed out, voice nearly a whisper, first tears slipping down my cheeks.
“We’re very sorry for your loss,” the coordinator said, pushing a box of tissues toward me.
I wasn’t crying.
No, I am crying.
I sat motionless, hands squeezing the firm, cold bottle. When I didn’t accept the tissues, she pulled the box back with an awkward grimace. “Please let us know if there’s any way we can help you navigate this difficult time.”
That was a dismissal. Professional, but firm.
“Okay.” Again, it was all I could force my mouth to say.
Pushing myself out of the seat, gravity feeling stronger than it should, I shuffled out of the office.
I should have gone to see Grandmother, but I couldn’t face her right now. Couldn’t deal with the fact she likely wouldn’t know me. I’d lost them both. I’d lost them both!
In a daze, I made my way out of the care facility and toward the newer Subaru that I’d literally just traded the old Honda in for twenty-four hours prior.
Yesterday, I’d visited my grandparents in the morning, and even though Grandmother hadn’t recognized me again, the fact Grandpa looked so wonderful and alive made me feel like things might start getting better in my life.
I figured, why wait? The Imperial severance was already in the bank; I’d have even more money from the house sale soon. No time like the present.
I’d felt confident, bloated with hope. So, I’d beelined to a local lot after leaving Serenity.
Despite my desire to rub it in his face, I hadn’t gone back to that dismissive car salesman.
Maybe because I didn’t want to drop top dollar on something new.
I wanted something reasonable. That would probably reinforce the way he’d treated me before, like I didn’t have much worth to him.
I didn’t know why his opinion bothered me so much.
Maybe because I was tired of feeling my value plummet.
As a dancer. As a beloved granddaughter.
As an Omega with something to offer the world other than pups.
Going to the small dealership outside town was meant-to-be though. Almost immediately, I'd spotted the wagon in bright red on the lot. It wasn’t new, but new to me. I’d paid in cash; I hadn’t even haggled the price.
Because why wait. No time like the present.
For a moment, I'd felt less angry, less depressed, less broken. For a moment, I thought Grandpa would beat the cancer, because, God, he looked so alive again. I’d stay in Tacoma.
I’d drive my bright red wagon around the city, dropping off resumes wherever possible.
I’d get a job. Soon, my new life would begin to blossom.
The only sore spot would be the house was already gone.
I couldn’t get it back. But that was okay.
It wasn’t such a world-ending bomb anymore.
What a fickle fucking thing hope can be!
How goddamn tenuous and easily snapped!
When I parked at the hotel, I couldn’t recall any details of the short drive.
My body and mind had done that dangerous auto-pilot thing, getting me there safely somehow.
As soon as I stepped back into the hotel suite, I began packing my belongings.
In a few days, Grandpa would be buried beneath the ground.
Grandmother was already buried in her broken mind.
I wanted to leave Tacoma as soon as possible.
No, I had to leave.
Four days after Grandpa’s death...
[Eight months it was Grandmother’s, a hybrid he’d hunted down each anniversary.
Yellow at the center, darkening towards the outer petals.
Orange to scarlet. He’d want it this way, since his wife wasn’t here to say her own goodbye.
If she were, I knew there’d be a sea of wildflowers across his casket.
She’d send him away exactly how she always claimed she’d found him—resting in the middle of a field, looking like he’d fallen from the pages of a storybook, surrounded by spring blossoms. She liked to tell that story, instead of the one where they’d first met—at the charity race, Grandpa covered in mud.
No, it was their second date that she preferred. Meeting at the botanical gardens. Finding her future husband resting on the ground, his eyes closed, peacefully basking in the sun.
For me, there was no greater love story than theirs.
My fingers shook as I placed the rose atop the mounded earth.
The trembling wouldn't stop these days. Sometimes I couldn't even hold a cup of coffee without sloshing it over the sides.
My body seemed to be vibrating at a frequency just beyond my control, a physical manifestation of the grief I couldn't fully process.
So much gone.
Everything gone.
I didn’t like that his grave would stay poorly marked for so long. I didn’t like that the ground beside the mound was barren. How long would he be alone without his Annie?
The nameless marker taunted me.
Grandpa wasn’t a number.
He wasn’t unimportant, or obscure.
It could take anywhere from six months to a year for the stone to be ready for placement. The funeral company would let me know so I could be present during.
When they did, I’d come to check the details.
His name. His birth date. His death date.
Carved and unchangeable. Space left for his beloved wife’s information later.
Half a year or more, waiting for a solid piece of granite.
Until then, Grandpa’s final resting place would have nothing, but the temporary piece of weather-resistant plastic stamped with the numerical identifier the graveyard used to cross-reference plot ownership.
It seemed wrong, but everything seemed wrong these days.
I closed my eyes, directing my words towards the sky, towards whatever heavenly place had to exist. Had to, because if this life was it, if there was no afterlife, then that meant I’d never see him again.
"Bye, Grandpa," I whispered, my voice catching. "I hope you won’t be alone long. I hope you found mom and dad. I hope you’re hugging them and laughing together. Watch over me, will you?"
The wind picked up, sending a chill through my black dress.
It was time to go. Go from Tacoma. Go from the pain.
But I still had one more goodbye to make...
The drive to Serenity House felt both familiar and strange.
I'd made this journey countless times over the past few months, but this would be the last. At least for a while.
I still hadn't decided how often I'd visit Grandmother once I moved to Seattle. Would it be cruel to visit if she never recognized me? Or would it be crueler not to come at all? Either way, I’d have to deal with agony.