Chapter 32 #2
I shrug. Then he hugs me and holds me tight, and I squeeze him back, and for a minute, just for a second, I can feel it.
The hugeness of what I’m doing, the endiness of it, the teariness and the sad, and I hold him so hard.
“I love you,” I say, pleased because I know it’s a good thing to say, and because it’s the warm feeling inside me.
“Oh, Audrey,” he whispers. “I love you, too.”
We look at each other a minute. He is very handsome. “I hope your next wife lives a long time,” I say, and he gives a surprised laugh, and I am glad to have made him happier.
“Bye, horses,” I say, because I know I love them.
Gracie walks beside me as I go to Stephen and my three best friends.
Stephen takes my hand and we walk around to the back of the house, past the big beautiful tree with the spreading branches that has the watery stuff come out so you can make the pancake sauce.
I’m not sure where we’re headed, but Stephen does, I guess. It’s so nice to be outside.
“Core Four!” I shout, and laugh. Beck gives my shoulder a gentle shove and smiles through the water on her face. I am losing words, they are sliding away, but I know the thoughts. The feelings.
We walk to the place where so many trees live, over the little wooden thing that lets us cross the .
. . the water road. Our boots crunch in white, and there are five slanty chairs in a smile shape at the edge of the woods, looking back at home.
Red barn. Stone building. Big white house with windows and porch, chimney and happiness. Home.
“Princess,” Stephen says, gesturing to the middle chair. Bigger than the others. Big enough for two. He tucks a big square of warmness around me. Blanket. That’s the word.
“Sit next here, Stephen,” I order. The words are wrong, but he understands. “Beck, you on this . . . here.” I gesture to the wood-sitting thing on the other side.
It has started to snow. A blue jay makes a loud noise.
Stephen lifts up Gracie and tuckles her to me.
I cover her so she is not cold, and her head is on my lap.
Stephen is on my other side, his arm around me.
We are so cozy! I laugh. “So cozy,” I say.
There are footmarks in the snow from the deer, and bunny marks, too.
The snow hisses in the air. “Just beautiful.”
We sit for a minute, quiet. Happy and not.
Then Micah takes out a smoky bottle from a deep hiding cave in her coat, where hands go when they’re cold, and unscrews the cap.
Her so-blue eyes are extra blue right now.
“To you, Auds,” she says. “You’re the best of us.
” Then she pours not-water into her mouth and passes the bottle to Jasmine.
“Thank you for making me your friend, Audrey,” she says, quiet voice. “That very first day of kindergarten, I knew you were special.”
“Really?” I say, pleased.
“Really. To you, then and now.” She wipes her eyes and drinks and pushes the bottle to Beck.
“Just a tiny sip for me,” she says. “In case little Audrey is growing in there.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Your possible niece or possible nephew,” she says. “We threw caution to the wind.”
“Audrey is a bad name for a boy,” I say, and everyone makes happy noises.
“We’ll make it work,” Beck says. “To you, Audrey. Best friend I ever had. See you on the other side.” She makes a hiccup noise, then sips and hands the bottle to Stephen.
Oh no. Hard. This one is hardest. My eyes fill with hot water.
It doesn’t feel all bad, though. Good, too?
Because of love? Stephen has waterfalls trickling down his good, good face.
He holds my hand, turns to see me all the way.
“To the best sister in the entire universe. Thank you for looking out for me, big sis. My life was so much better because of you.”
He takes a long drink, then looks at me more. “Audrey, if you take the pills in the bottle, you’ll die. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
That’s what Regular Audrey wants. She said we both did. “Yes,” I say to my brother, and his face is so sad. He hands the glass bottle to me.
I take a swig of the drink, which tastes like rain. “This is nice,” I say. “Togethery.” I smile, knowing the word is not right but close enough.
“Thank you for bringing us back, Audrey,” Beck says. “For reminding us who we are.”
We are the Core Four. We were apart and now we are together. We did it.
I put my hand against brother’s warm cheek. “I love you,” I say, and tears are dripping from my eyes, too. “You . . . me.”
“That’s right,” he says. “You and me. Always.”
The nice good words hang in the air with us.
I dig in my coat cave, Gracie like a giant bean sack on top of me, and pull out the container. Take them all. I look inside at all the round pills.
Then I look at them. My dog. My friends. My brother.
Be brave. Be brave, like Regular Audrey said.
This day is so beautiful. Mommy is very close now and I smell her, the Mom-smell only she has. Be brave.
The snow tingles against my face. Be brave. I struggle for the words, the important words. “Love all you so much.”
I see Micah, her beautiful blue and shiny black. Beck, so tall and oak-tree. Jasmine, pink-cheeks and sea glass. And Stephen, my brother. My little brother.
Be brave.
I will be. I want to be.
But.
But maybe.
Maybe brave is staying. Even if there is dark nothing soon, there is now, this love and friends and aliveness.
Right now in the beautiful togethery, this air and snow and friends and Stephen.
Brave can be staying. Even when ugly and scary and lost. Worth it, this now-time, and times like these, even if no more come. There is now, this gift-moment.
I don’t want to leave.
Regular Audrey was wrong. I want to stay. I am brave. Dementia Audrey—Now Audrey—me. I will stay a little longer because this beautiful pink-gray sky. These trees. Smoke smells and pine, warm dog and friends, daughter and home and brother.
My hand makes the round pill holder go back in the little coat cave.
Be brave and stay. At least for now.
I look again at brother. “Not yet,” I say. “Not today.”
Then I tip my head back to the gentle swirling cold, and I smile, because of happy, because of them, because of love.