Chapter 16
chapter sixteen
Pops seemed to be doing alright, despite having recently been in the hospital. The moment I opened his front door, the comforting smell of fresh coffee hit me right in the face. I followed it to the kitchen, finding him at the counter, stirring his one stevia packet into his mug.
He looked over his shoulder, a big smile on his face. “Hey, son. Want some?”
“Not today. How are you feeling?”
Grabbing his cane, he held his coffee in his other hand and slowly started to walk to the recliner in his living room. I followed suit, sitting on the couch cushion closest to him. “I’m feeling just fine, Cally. You don’t need to worry about me.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m always going to worry about you, Papa. That’s, like, the whole point of being your favorite grandson.”
“My only grandson, as you like to point out.” He grunted as he set his cup down on the small end table beside him. “Your fingers are all messed up.”
I looked down at my hands, studying the scabs and blood to see them from his point of view. “Oh, you know how it is. I was working on something in the shed last night and got a couple scrapes, to be fair. The rest, though, was from my anxiety.”
“Gotta stop eating yourself. I don’t like to see my boy all cut up like that.”
“I know, Pops. I was doing pretty good for a while there.”
“What’s got you so worked up, son?”
Shaking my head, I grabbed the throw pillow beside me, putting it in front of my stomach like it was a shield of some sort. “Nothing in particular. Hey, do you need help cleaning out the rest of the garden before the snow comes through? I noticed some dead plants from our last round.”
He grabbed his mug, his hand shaking as he wrapped it around the handle. “No, they’ll wither and decompose themselves. Some of the flowers there will replant by themselves, too. They come back every year.”
“Oh, which ones?”
His head jerked back as he tried to take a sip and missed, some of the coffee dribbling down his chin. “Damn it.” He huffed, setting the mug back down. “Clumsy old man hands.”
When he started to try to get up, I stood instead, beating him to it. “I got it, Pops.”
I rushed to the kitchen for some paper towels, worried for a second about how hot the coffee must’ve been. What if he’d burned himself? When I brought them back over, he snatched them out of my hands and started to wipe across his shirt and mouth, leaving a stain behind.
Holding my hand out for his trash, I nodded down at his shirt. “You’re supposed to dab it, I think. It won’t stain that way.”
“I don’t care about a few stains anymore, Cally. I care about my hands working like they’re supposed to.”
“Oh, Papa. Have they gotten worse? Do you think you need to make an appointment with the doctor?” He’d been shaking a lot more recently, which is something that’d started when we found out he was having heart trouble.
“The doctor can’t cure old age.”
“But if it’s something to do with your heart, we’d want to know, right?”
“It has nothing to do with my heart. Shaking isn’t one of the symptoms. You know what it’s a symptom of?”
He was waiting for an answer from me instead of just telling me.
It was something he’d done when I was a kid, and he’d been trying to teach me critical thinking skills—I was supposed to think about what he’d asked and come to my own conclusion.
He never answered for me, even if it was rhetorical.
It was annoying sometimes. “Well, I just don’t see how that can be from old age.
Like, doesn’t something specifically have to cause it? ”
Sighing, he picked his coffee mug back up, holding it with both hands this time. “It can happen, yes. As we age, our bodies just stop working the same. It’s a real pain in the ass, in my opinion. Tremors and weakness often come with getting older.”
“Just tell me if it gets worse, will you? I’ll make you an appointment myself if I have to.”
When he finally took a sip, he sighed and smacked his lips before setting the cup back down. “Some damn good coffee, if I do say so myself. I’ll let you know if anything changes, but I’m fine, son. Don’t worry. I just wish my body still worked like it did when I was younger.”
God, it ate me up inside to hear him talk like that. “I wish I could get down on my knees and reliably get back up, and I’m only thirty-three, Papa. We change. We’re supposed to change. If we stayed exactly as we were, life would be pretty damn boring.”
I’d changed a lot in the last decade specifically.
Much like Tobi had. Papa had done the same—getting frailer with each passing day, needing a cane to get around much anymore, having to be extra careful out in the sun.
The list went on for him, and it almost killed me.
I couldn’t ever begin to think about how he felt about it.
“You know, I built your grandmother a big wooden vanity for one of our anniversaries when we were young. Way before we had your mom to care for. She loved it so much. She did her hair sitting in front of that vanity every single day. I’d make her gifts all the time instead of going out and spending most of my hard-earned money.
” He smiled, leaning back in his recliner.
“She always called me her handyman. I miss those days sometimes, but if I hadn’t moved forward in life, I never would’ve met my favorite grandson, so it was totally worth it. ”
On the mantel in front of us, there were dozens of framed photographs. Most of them were of Papa and Grammy, their faces much younger and their eyes much brighter. Some of them had them and my mom together. Family portraits with smiles on their faces.
I often wondered if they knew Mom was going to have the troubles she did. Was she unruly as a kid? Or was it the calm before the storm? It had me wondering what caused the switch or if there was one at all.
“Pops, can you tell me how you and Grammy met again?”
That always had his face lighting up. When I asked about Grammy or their past together, he would perk up and get what almost looked like longing in his eyes.
“Oh gosh. Well, we met at school. She hated me at first. Thought I was just some loser set out to bother her. I didn’t have very many friends, and I was quite the nerd.
One day, she asked me for help with her math homework.
I thought I was going to die on the spot when she’d asked me that.
I was in shock that she’d even approached me.
I said yes, of course, but I didn’t say it in that many words.
I stumbled around, damn near falling face-first onto the floor from shock.
Shock that the prettiest girl I’d ever seen was in my vicinity, asking me a question.
“We started meeting up in the library after school twice a week. I can’t remember what we were working on at the time, but I knew she needed extra help understanding it.
We had to think outside the box. One day, instead of going over the homework, we just talked.
We talked about all sorts of stuff. And from then on, we’d spend each tutoring session together like we were old friends just spending time together.
I think I fell in love with her by our third worksheet. ”
Hearing it, although it was probably the hundredth time, never got old. I loved hearing the light in his voice and seeing the usually tight muscles in his forehead relax. It was like when he talked about her, the entire weight of the world fled from his shoulders. He could breathe easier.
He’d lost the most important person in his life.
“Cally?”
I turned to him, tilting my head. “Yeah?”
“Are you having boy trouble?”
I couldn’t help it. I snorted. “Papa, I’m not twelve anymore.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you can’t still have boy trouble. Is that why you’re picking at your fingers and asking me about Grammy?”
“No.” I squeezed my eyes shut before letting out a long, deep breath. “Okay, maybe. Sort of. I am having trouble with a guy, but it isn’t like that. Not anymore, at least.”
There was silence for a moment. Papa hadn’t even sipped on his coffee. He just held it in his hands, narrowing his eyes as he looked at me. It didn’t take long before he gasped and his eyebrows rose. “Shit, it’s Tobias, isn’t it?”
My mouth didn’t even want to open to confirm what he’d said. It was so hard. So damn hard to say. So hard to admit that, yes, Tobi was back, and I had nothing to show for it. He’d barely even talk to me, and when we met, it was always reluctantly.
Huffing through my nose, I turned to him. “How did you figure that out?”
“Your eyes, Cally. You always get this look in your eyes when you talk about him, even if you’re not saying his name outright. Plus, I’m just old and wise. Don’t you know that by now?”
Old and wise. I wished I were wise. When I was in my twenties, I thought I’d have the answers to everything by the time I was thirty. God, how wrong I was. “Yeah, it’s Tobi. He’s back.”
“Back how?”
I thought about how to answer that for a moment.
It wasn’t as easy as it should’ve been. “Physically. Physically, he’s back.
Mentally and emotionally? I’m not sure where he is.
He’s an alcoholic now, Pops. It fucking hurts.
It hurts to see him ruin himself like he is and not be able to do anything about it. ”
He groaned and grunted as he got up from the recliner, grabbing his cane for support as he made his way to the couch. He sat right beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Tell me all about it, son. Maybe I’ll have some wisdom for you.”
I leaned into his side, laying my head against his shoulder. “I don’t know. He’s homeless. He looks like hell. I never thought I’d see him again, you know? But then I did, and he’s nothing like he used to be.”
“Well, of course not. Did he tell you what he’s been doing for the last decade?”
“No, not really. He said he’s moved around a bit.”
“If he’s drinking like you say he is and he’s in that bad of shape, I’d be inclined to think he’s gone through hell.”
I closed my eyes, thinking back to all the times Papa had held me just like this and sung to me or comforted me during a bad panic attack. “I know he has. He’s just so closed off. It’s like he’s a whole different person, and I don’t recognize the person he is.”
“Sure you do. He’s got the same heart. He’s got the same soul. He’s just lost.”
“Oh, he’s so lost, Papa. So, so lost, and I don’t know how to help him come back.”
“Well, that’s the thing.” He stroked my hair and sighed.
“You don’t need to help him come back, son.
You just need to be there for when he’s ready to.
You can guide him, but you can’t force him.
If he’s lost, he’ll find his way eventually, but you have to let him find that way. You can’t make the path for him.”
A tear I didn’t ask for and didn’t want found its way along my eyelashes.
I didn’t open my eyes because if I did, it’d freely escape.
I didn’t want it to. I wanted to hold it back.
Hold it in, so I could pretend like I never let it get to me just how terrified I was.
I was terrified that Tobi would never actually come back, and I’d have to go the rest of my life knowing he was out there drinking himself to death.
I squeezed my eyes tighter, keeping it all contained as I breathed in Pops’ signature coffee and cologne smell and thought about all the times he’d sung to me.
I imagined he was singing to me now, and I was just a kid, clinging onto his side for dear life.
He’d keep me grounded. “I know. We argued about that. He told me I was just trying to make myself feel better because I wasn’t meeting him where he was but trying to change him.
I’ve done better, but I can’t help how utterly helpless I feel when it comes to him.
I hate seeing him drink like he is. I hate seeing him so sad and lonely when I’m right in front of him like this. ”
“Watching your mother destroy herself, your father, and you was the hardest thing I ever did. I tried to get her help countless times. Your Grammy and I were at such a loss with her. Eventually, we realized it wasn’t worth it.
It wasn’t going to change anything unless your mother wanted to change.
We weren’t the problem—her will to get better was.
” He rubbed my shoulder. “Alcohol steals. It steals lives. It steals happiness. It steals health. It steals families. But what hurts the most is how it steals someone’s will and determination so easily.
It’s a bastard of a thing, Cally. But if Tobi doesn’t want to get help, then you can’t stress yourself out by trying so hard.
He’ll come to you when he’s ready. I know that. ”
“If. If he’s ever ready.” I repeated what Tobi had told me before.
“I don’t believe there’s an if here. He’ll come back in his own time, and you’ll be there for him when he does. And I’ll be here for you through it all.”
Could I let myself believe that? Could I be that for Tobi? I fucking hoped so. I really, really hoped so.
After a few minutes of silence, Pops cleared his throat and gently started to rock us side to side. “Hush, little baby, don’t say a word.”
My throat got tight.
“Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.”
My shoulders started to shake.
“And if that mockingbird won’t sing, Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.”
I let the tears come. I didn’t really even have a choice as they slid down my cheeks.
“And if that diamond ring turns brass, Papa’s gonna buy you a looking glass.”
I cried for Tobi. I cried for the years we’d lost. I cried for my mom and dad.
I cried for Papa, who loathed his aging body.
I cried because I was anxious. I cried because I didn’t think I was good enough.
I cried because, even after all this time, even at thirty-three, Papa’s voice seemed to soothe an ache in my chest I wasn’t sure anything else could ever reach.
But his voice was shakier now. And he had a harder time breathing in between each verse.
I cried because all I could do was pretend, but sometimes pretending wasn’t enough.