6
Henry packed up for a couple weeks away from the city and jumped into the Uber to JFK. The traffic was heavier than he expected,
and he made a mental note to revisit his calculations of when would be the right timing to leave for the airport before his
next trip.
He went back and forth in his head talking himself out of going. Sure, it was quieter in the office during the summer months.
But his boss and all the executives were gone. Someone should be in the office to make sure things didn’t all go to shit.
But that someone didn’t have to be Henry. This was one of those things where the upside to being responsible was little to none. No one that mattered
would see him staying tied to the office. Analysis concluded. He decided to go.
If he wanted to be an executive, he should start acting the part.
Dump some of the menial work on those reporting to him and go about with an air of entitlement, privilege—not something Henry was used to.
He’d worked his whole life, harder than anyone else around him, to get to where he was today. And he didn’t have plans of stopping.
But his grandfather so rarely asked for help, and when he did, there was just no way for Henry to say no. He was the most
important person in his life, and the only family he had left in the world. At least, who mattered to him. And with him being
eighty now, he wasn’t sure how much longer that would be.
Instead of flying into the rinky-dink Palm Springs airport, Henry had decided to fly into LAX, secured a first-class seat
with his frequent-flier points, and rented a car to make the two-hour drive to the desert. His latest audiobook played through
the SUV’s speakers. Henry preferred audiobooks to podcasts. And he enjoyed consuming fictional stories to keep his mind occupied.
The rental car had made a mistake with his reservation, trying to give him an Escort instead of a Bronco. But Henry had insisted
on an SUV as he’d have to carry around his granddad’s walker if they ever ventured out from the house.
With the rough commute to JFK, the bumpy flight to LAX, and the rental-car mix-up, Henry wondered if this trip was cursed.
At least he’d managed to get that real estate agent off his granddad’s back. He’d worked out buying the new house from him
but secured a different agent, one referred to him by a trusted friend, to sell Dennis’s home. It had all happened smoothly
and fairly, and now Henry was heading out to help close the deal. And it allowed Henry to be there when all the boxes were
being moved to the new house.
The drive into Palm Springs was long, barren, and droll, but something about it put Henry at ease. The San Jacinto Mountains
sprawled out before him, huge hills that looked like singular pieces of stone. The wind turbines turned and signaled a different
world, really.
Henry had mixed emotions when it came to the desert.
On one hand, he’d loved coming to visit his grandfather as a kid in the summers at his house with the huge pool and a slide.
On the other hand, it signified yet another time his parents had left him so they could pursue whatever harebrained idea they’d had again.
Whether it be living off-grid in Costa Rica for a year or traveling across the US in a van they’d converted themselves and camping in BLM land, Henry’s parents were free spirits.
And being free didn’t include taking care of an uptight kid with a myriad of health and emotional issues.
Henry would miss his grandfather’s old house. But with Dennis’s health declining with his increased age, it made more sense
for him to move into the retirement community of Sunset Hills where he could be close to people his own age and pace and where
medical support would be nearby. He’d prefer his granddad move into a nursing home or an assisted-living facility at least.
But the stubborn old man refused. It was one of the few times his grandfather had really dug his heels in, and Henry had eventually
let it go. For now.
He connected his phone to CarPlay and pressed the Contact for his granddad.
“Yello,” the sandy voice said on the other end.
“Hey, Granddad. Just wanna let you know I’m about ten minutes out.”
“Hank? Shoot, was it today you were coming in?”
Henry held back the sigh and the accompanying worry creeping up his neck. He’d told his grandfather multiple times the date
and time he expected to come. The information just didn’t seem to stick.
“Yes, just as I told you. The eighth of August. That’s today.”
“Well, hot damn, it’ll be good to see you.”
“Granddad, do you remember what today is? Do you remember me telling you when I was coming?”
“Yes, Hank. I’m just being an asshole because I like riling you up. Of course I knew you were coming. I even tracked your
airplane to see if you were gonna be on time. Had a whole plan to fuck with you if your plane was delayed. But I’ll hang on
to that one for another day.” His grandfather laughed like all of this was hilarious and not incredibly infuriating. The hearty
laugh turned into a hacking cough ending in a wheeze.
“Real funny,” Henry managed to get out.
“Oh, don’t be mad. I’m just happy you’re almost here and I get to see you. Ten minutes, you say? I’ll get a beer out and pop
it open for you by the time you walk in the door. See you soon,” he said.
Henry let out a deep breath and couldn’t help it—he smiled toward the phone. “See you soon,” he replied.
The house was filled with boxes labeled in his grandfather’s shaky scrawl. Henry didn’t want to know how he’d packed them
or what he’d find broken or intact once he opened them. He’d told his granddad to wait till he arrived so they could pack
up the home together. But again, he didn’t listen.
“Has the hip been giving you any trouble lately?” Henry asked. Dennis had gotten a hip replacement not too long ago. He had
a walker to help with his mobility, and they’d been monitoring all his other organs to make sure the surgery didn’t have any
additional negative effects on his health. Henry had been so busy with work recently, he hadn’t checked in with the doctor
in . . . months?
“Hank, that was a while ago. I’m good as new now. You haven’t seen me since I’ve been all patched up. New hip works better than the old one ever did,” Dennis said.
Henry took one look at his aging granddad and knew that couldn’t possibly be the case. But as long as he wasn’t in any pain
or imminent health danger, he wouldn’t press the issue.
As the movers loaded the truck up with his granddad’s entire life, and part of Henry’s for that matter, Henry couldn’t help
but feel a sense of being untethered. He’d built a life for himself, steady, successful, and different from the one he’d had
growing up. But that didn’t mean it didn’t feel odd watching the last of what he remembered of his childhood become space
between four empty walls.
An unexpected lump formed in his throat. He would not get emotional. Henry did not do emotional. It was impractical and unnecessary.
A house was just a building.
A hand slapped him on the shoulder. “It was a good home for us for a long time, isn’t that right, Hank?” his granddad said.
“Maybe we should take a last picture outside and send it to your par—”
“Let’s get going, Granddad,” Henry interrupted him. He did not want to think about what his parents might say about the move
and whether they would ask his granddad for any extra cash he might get from the sale. Luckily, Henry had made certain to
handle all the financial specifics and put everything into a separate trust account that fed into his granddad’s personal
finances each month. Henry would handle all the bills and let his grandfather have enough for whatever incidentals he’d need.
No telling what his parents would do if they smelled any bit of what his granddad had made off the sale of his house to a
move to a much smaller one.
“We’ll let the movers finish up here and meet them at the new house,” Henry suggested. A part of him wanted to stay and oversee the rest of the packing up. But with one mention of his folks, he itched to get out of the past and move his grandpa into his new future, however short it might be.
“The movers will be there in an hour, so we’ll need to go and collect the parking permit and owner’s guide over at the community
center office. Granddad, are you listening to me?”
“Sure, sure, Hank. Whatever you say.” He had his headphones over his ears. His grandfather had issues both with hearing and
with attention span. So the headphones helped focus him on what was being said. Unfortunately it made it difficult for him
to hear the actual words.
Just one of the many things reminding Henry that Dennis was old and aging. He seemed to age a decade every subsequent time
he saw him.
Henry made sure to set up his granddad’s recliner and television before anything else. That would keep him occupied as he
watched Crash Landing on You for the hundredth time. Henry could focus on directing the movers for all the other boxes. Henry had seen bits and pieces
of the K-drama in passing while his granddad had it on the screen: an over-the-top soap opera from what he could tell. He
wasn’t sure what made Dennis love it so much, but it was definitely not the type of show Henry watched himself.
Henry shook off the brief distraction and reminded himself of what needed to get done.
Boxes in.
Guest pass secured.
Parking pass registered.
And then he could plan what to feed his grandfather for lunch.
Henry’s muscles felt tired from the lifting and moving.
He insisted on helping the movers in order to direct the boxes into the right rooms and, honestly, to keep an eye on their progress.
Plus there was something about using your body for something natural versus working out at the gym that made it feel both harder yet more satisfying.
“That’s the last of the boxes, sir.” The movers were efficient and fast.
“Thanks, appreciate all your help,” Henry said. He shook the mover’s hand and passed him an envelope with a generous cash
tip.
“Hank, make sure you give them some money for lunch too,” his grandpa called out from the living room.
Henry gave him an awkward smile and dug into his wallet for an extra hundred dollars. It was easier than arguing with his
granddad about manners and the lack thereof from the younger generations these days.
After the movers had gone, Henry reached for the first box to begin the task ahead of him of unpacking.
“Hank, whattaya say we wait till tomorrow to start with the boxes?” His grandfather looked hopeful. Like he wanted to just
hang out and put the hard work off until later.
Henry was never one to put things off till later. “Granddad, you go ahead and sit. I’m gonna start unpacking stuff for you,
and if I have a question of where you want something to go, I’ll ask you.”
“Or we could order a pizza, crack some beers, and watch a movie,” his granddad suggested.
Henry saw a glimpse of the man he grew up with, who loved to have a good time, who hung out with Henry and played Scrabble
with him. Who laughed hard and loved even harder.
Who didn’t need a walker to stabilize or headphones or a list of medication a mile long.
But the boxes needed unpacking. And Henry just wanted to get him settled.
“Maybe tomorrow, Granddad. For now, why don’t you just rest.”
It was impossible not to notice the droop of his shoulders in disappointment.
But Henry knew they’d both appreciate it when the work was all done. And that wasn’t going to happen if he didn’t get started
now.
So Henry grabbed the box cutter and got to work.