I enter the doors to the nursing home, greeted by the stale air. Anxiety melts from me—a puddle of worry trailing behind. I feel a little bad for scraping Brooks’s rim on purpose, but he’s being an ass, so I’ll hit him in the wallet since I can’t hit him anywhere else.
Approaching the counter, I see the same woman who organized my meeting with Sarah before. She smiles warmly at me, recognition obvious in the way her eyes crinkle at the corners.
“Amy, right?”
“Emily.”
She scoffs at herself. “That’s right. Old age. I should be in here myself. Are you here to see Sarah again, or...”
“Yes. Yes, I’d love to see her.”
“Do you remember where her room is? I can walk you.”
I tell her I know the way. Float down the hall to her room. Without knocking, I’m in, skittering over to her bed. There is faded red stain on her lips—remains of the lipstick I applied.
“Who are you?”I smile at her. Take her hand in mine. The Jesus figurine is still on the bedside table.
“It’s me. Your granddaughter.” This time I don’t feel bad for lying. This time I realize I’m helping her. I have to see the good in what I’ve done. She has no one. An older me—lonely and in need of saving. I need a family. She’s a good place to start. I might as well run with it.
“Granddaughter?”
“Yes.” I smile. Pull a mirror from the compact in my purse. I hold it in front of her face, so she can see her lips. “I put this lipstick on you yesterday. Do you remember?”Her lips curl back into a snarl, and then she puckers them. “Can’t remember any damn thing these days. Not things that happen recently, anyway.”
“I understand. It’s okay, Granny.”
She regards me curiously, her eyes widening before relaxing again. “Are you sure you’re my granddaughter?”
“I’m sure. One hundred percent.”
Her mouth lifts in happiness again. “I always wanted one.”
“Well, I’m here. And hey, I have this for you.” I pick through my purse, plucking the lipstick tube from it. Removing the cap, I hold it up to show her the blood shade. “Can I put some more on you?”
“Oh, yes,” she beams.
Carefully, I apply it again. Freshen the fading crimson right up. “What about blush or powder?”
“Do it all, honey.”
She closes her eyes, allowing me to give her a quick makeover. I sweep powder over her face, albeit powder that’s slightly too dark for her pasty skin. I rub some rouge on her cheeks, and swipe some shadow over her lids. I even apply a light coat of mascara.
“All done,” I tell her, holding up the mirror.
She studies herself, her eyes squinted a bit so she can see clearly. Her moist eyes grow wetter before she says, “I remember looking like this the night I had my first kiss. Of course, a lot less wrinkled, and with tits that didn’t hang to my knees.” She laughs loudly, and I laugh with her. I like this woman. She’s a good grandmother—as good as any I could hope to find.
“You told me that story. It was at the skating rink.”
“Yes!” she exclaims. “They couldn’t keep their hands off us! We were hot tamales, my sister and me.”
“I bet you were. You still are. Can I take a picture of us?”
“Oh, dear, normally I’d say no, but I’m too hot now to shy away!” She laughs again. Fluffs her hair.
I lean close to her, our cheeks touching as I hold out my phone. I snap several photos, and put it back in my pocket. “I’ll have them printed, and I’ll mail them to you.”
“Can’t you just bring them?”
My mouth falls to a frown. “No, I … I’m going back home today. I was just here visiting you. I live in Atlanta, about six or seven hours from here.”
“Oh. Well, when are you coming back? I probably won’t damn remember, but I hope it’s soon, darlin’.”
I squeeze her hand. She’s such a sweet old lady. “I’ll come back. Maybe in a month or two. I’ll fly next time so the trip won’t take me so long.”
“Oh, I wish I could go with you. I hate this place. But I have Jesus with me. He’s always with me.”
“I’m sorry, Granny.” Gosh, it feels good to say that. Maybe she was meant for me, and I for her. Bitch Grandma had to die so that Sarah and I could find one another. “I wish you could, too.” Crazily, I do wish she could. What would be so bad about her hanging around? She can’t have long left, so it’s not like it would be permanent. It could work so well. Really give meat to my past.
“I’ll come back soon, I promise.”
“Do what you said, and send me those pictures, okay? I want to remember you, but my dadgum brain doesn’t work.”
“I’ll send them as soon as possible. You have my word.”
“Bye now.”
“Goodbye, Sarah.” I kiss her on her forehead, and place the tube of lipstick in her hands. “You keep this.”
Tears well in her eyes, and I know we found each other for a reason. I know I’ve done some good.
The drive home was torture. Brooks tried to chat more. He softened his tone, which made me feel a lot better about his asshole attitude and strange disappearance this morning. But the conversation was so stale and forced that I almost wished I’d had my own car so we could have driven separately. I love him, and I’d volunteer to talk physics with him while running a marathon, but I don’t want the cake of love we have made to gain a hole before it can be baked. I want a cake with layer upon layer of lust and love—not a Bundt cake.
He stands behind me, waiting for me to open my front door. Thank God he’s coming in. If he didn’t get out of the car, I’d be really worried. Sex is a funny thing, I’ve learned. It does things to people’s minds. I’m sure that’s part of what’s going on. He’s absorbing everything that happened, utterly shocked at how fantastic it was. My cat got his tongue. Ha!
Lucy barks from somewhere in the distance. I’m so excited to see my girl, but dogs are tons of work. I don’t know how people vacation all the time when they have pets. Always having to take them with them or board them. What a pain. Good thing I’m a loser and have no interest in going anywhere. I want to stay close to Brooks always.
He needs to be watched.