Chapter Eight
Parker
Climbing off my bike, I’m surprised to see no lights are on in the house. Grandma’s car is in the drive, so she’s gotta be here. There’s no way she’s asleep already at barely seven o’clock. As I head to the door, I’m even more surprised. Grandma usually swings the door open before I can even step onto the front porch.
As I climb the steps, my phone rings. I pull it out and see Smoke flash across the screen. I stop in my tracks and plop down on the top step, slide my thumb across the screen, and put it to my ear.
My eyes are trained on the door, expecting it to open any second as I say, “Yo.”
“I need you to do me a favor, son,” Dad says without bothering with a hello.
“Anything,” I reply, meaning exactly what I said.
I would do anything for my dad, any fucking thing, especially right now. He’s hurting in a way that I can’t even comprehend and won’t be able to until the day he is buried under six feet of dirt. Considering the fact my insides feel like they’re on fire every time I think of Grandpa being gone, I don’t even want to imagine the day Dad joins him.
“I need you to stop by and check on Lisa.” Before I get the chance to tell him I’m doing just that, he adds, “I know she said she didn’t want anyone coming by, but we would feel better if someone did. We’re still four hours away from home. By the time we get there, she’ll already be asleep.”
Dad and Mom had to take Marley to tour the University of Kentucky today. My sister threw a fucking fit, saying she wasn’t gonna tour a college the day after her grandfather’s funeral. She shut up really quick when Grandma reminded her how proud Grandpa was that she was going to college. She was also really quick to remind Marley that Grandpa was even prouder that she was considering wearing blue and white for the next four years since he was a lifelong Wildcat fan.
“I’m already here, Dad,” I say, finally looking away from the door.
I can hear Dad’s relieved breath before he asks, “How is she?”
I’m sure she’s the same as she has been for the last five days. Not sleeping, not eating, and just barely holding her shit together. Being part of the Grim Bastards, I have seen a lot of shit in my life. Death and the MC go hand in hand. More than a few old ladies have lost their old men over the years. Still, I’ve never seen pain as bad as the pain I see every time I look in my grandma’s eyes.
“I haven’t gone inside yet. I’ll call you as soon as I leave,” I say, pushing myself off the step. “I’ll probably stay a while, maybe even order a pizza and try to push a slice or two down her throat, so don’t expect to be hearing from me for a while.”
“That’d be good. I don’t think she ate a bite at all yesterday,” he says, sounding worn the fuck out. “No need to rush, just call when you leave.”
I can hear Mom and Marley both talking to him before he says, “Your mom says to make sure you order from Gino’s. It’s Lisa’s favorite.”
After all the times she’s taken me there, it’s my favorite, too. “I’ll do that.”
Some more mumbling fills my ears before Dad says, “Marley says to get her a small veggie. She’s hungry, even though we just stopped to eat a half-hour ago.”
“Want me to pick you and Mom up something, and what about the kids?” I ask, glad to have my mind on something other than the death of the man that taught me to ride a bike when I was six and again at sixteen.
“Nah, the boys already put in an order for KFC,” he replies, pulling in a quick breath. “I guess Colonel Sanders does it different than anyone else.”
I have to wonder how the hell they can want chicken after the last five days, even if it does come from KFC. I swear, every fucking woman in town has dropped off their own version of fried chicken. The fridge at the clubhouse, my parents’, and here is full of the shit.
“Okay, bud. It’s time for me to get my eyes back on the road. Love you, son,” he says, ending the call the same way he always does.
“Love you, too,” I reply before swiping my thumb across the screen and sliding it back into my pocket.
I head straight to the door and knock. Waiting a minute, I knock again. Each time my fist hits the door, the sound gets louder and louder. A minute or two in, I give up and pull my keys out of my pocket. I fish out the right one and put it in the door.
As soon as I open the door, the first thing I notice is the temperature. Even though it’s mid-October, it was in the low seventies yesterday. The temperature has been dropping all day. It bottomed out at fifty-six degrees a few hours ago, but the central heat hasn’t kicked on. Walking across the room, I reach for the thermostat and see the problem. I click it from air to heat and kick it up to seventy-two.
As the furnace kicks on, I realize just how silent the house is. The entire place is so quiet, you could hear a fucking pin drop. The silence has me setting a quick pace to the bedroom. I’m surprised to find the door closed. For some reason, I have to force my hand to knock. I know, just fucking know, I don’t want to see whatever is on the other side of the door.
Hearing no response, I grab the knob and slowly open the door. My eyes scan the room before I even take a step inside. When they land on Grandma lying in the center of the bed, my heart starts to pound against my chest in a frantic beat.
Looking closer, I see she is wearing one of Grandpa’s tees. If I’m not mistaken, it’s the one he was wearing at the clubhouse the night before he died. As I step to the end of the bed, I notice her arms are wrapped tightly around a pillow that I can only assume belonged to Grandpa.
“Grandma,” I say, my voice coming out sounding more like a kid of twelve than a grown man.
Bile rises up into my throat when I get no response. My eyes sting, and I reach down to touch her foot. The tears start to fall when I feel how cold it is. Even through the sheet, her foot feels icy and stiff.
Unable to keep my legs under me, I drop to my knees. Never letting go of her foot, I rest my forehead against the end of the bed. My mouth opens and a scream pours out, letting out only a small portion of the pain I am feeling.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I mutter, wondering how in the hell God could do this to us so soon.
Haven’t we been through enough? Wasn’t the pain of losing Grandpa bad enough? How in the hell can we handle losing Grandma, too? It’s not fucking possible; we’ll all fall apart.
Just as the thought passes my mind, I hear a sound to my left. Jerking my head up, I look around the room. Instead of seeing someone, my eyes land on a picture of Grandma and Grandpa from back in the day. He’s sitting on his bike as she stands by his legs. One of his arms is wrapped around her while she leans her head on his shoulder. They both are smiling huge at the camera, looking as if they were the happiest people in the world. When they were together, they always were.
Looking back at the bed, I realize they are together once again. “I’m gonna miss you so fucking much, Grandma.”
Wiping away the tears falling down my face, I pull my shit together and pull the phone out of my pocket. I’ve got some calls to make, then I’m heading to my parents’ house to tell my dad he lost a woman that may not have given birth to him, but who loved him every bit as much as if she had. Then I get to watch as everyone falls apart for the second time in less than a week.
As soon as that’s done, I’m gonna crawl in my old bed in the only house I’ve ever called home and do some falling apart of my own.
THE END