Following Grandpa Jess Page 2

  Meanwhile, my heart was still pounding from the whole ordeal, and now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, I was receiving some pretty urgent messages from my feet, reminding me that I’d stubbed my toes approximately seven thousand times during my mad dash upstairs. Ow.

  Letting out a shaky, somewhat calming breath, I sat on top of a nearby hope chest. “Grandma, what were you—”

  “That’s an antique.”

  I stood, trying to keep the weight off my big toes, and tried again. “What were you doing out there?”

  Grandma lifted her eyebrows regally and looked at the nearest wall. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business, but I was attempting to commune with the spirits.”

  Ho-boy. “The spirits?”

  “Yes. More specifically, the spirit of your late grandfather. Not that I had any measure of success, seeing as the three of you insisted on interrupting me.”

  AJ, who was by the door doing his body builder impersonation again, tilted his head a little and gave her a confused look. “But...why on the roof?”

  My question would’ve been, Why at ALL? but as AJ’s was slightly more tactful, I kept my mouth shut.

  “If you must know, I’ve been doing some reading on the subject, and the text’s suggestion was that in order to commune properly with the subject you’re attempting to reach, it’s best to be somewhere high and open to the sky.”

  “That makes sense,” Thomas said.

  “No, it doesn’t,” I told him in an irritated undertone. I turned back to Grandma. “Look, assuming that this book actually knows what it’s talking about, why the roof? Why not, I don’t know, go find a hill somewhere or something?”

  Grandma looked scandalized. “And sit on the filthy ground? You must be joking.”

  “Maybe if you had a lawn chair or something,” Thomas said.

  “Whatever the case, just please, please, don’t go out there again.”

  “I certainly won’t while the three of you are around,” Grandma muttered.

  “Don’t do it at all. Look, Grandma, the reason we’re here in the first place is because...” I glanced over at AJ for backup, but found him staring intently at one of the paintings on Grandma’s wall, studying the artwork with the kind of intense interest that only emerges when the alternative is having a really uncomfortable conversation.

  “We’re here,” I said, “because we’re all worried about you. Mom and Dad especially.”

  Grandma’s eyes narrowed. “Did they send you here? It won’t work, you know. I’ve told them I’m not leaving this house, and I meant it.”

  “They didn’t send us.” And then, because she’d always been honest with me, even when I’d kind of wished she hadn’t been, I said, “But they’re serious about selling the house. They’ve met with real estate agents and everything. Mom wants you to move in with them, but if you keep refusing...they’re talking about assisted living.”

  “Assisted living?” She looked a little alarmed for the first time. “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not. They’re serious about it. They’re talking about getting things underway in the next couple of weeks if you don’t come around.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence. “This is ridiculous,” Grandma said at last, the words trembling audibly. “I won’t be treated like this. I’m an adult.”

  “It’s a big house,” AJ said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You’ve been having knee trouble, and if you slip and fall...”

  “I’m not quite so graceless as that, thank you.”

  “But what if you do?” I persisted and tried to ignore the fact that I felt like a complete asshole for doing this to her. “There’s no one here who could help you, and you could end up on crutches, or in a wheelchair. It’s dangerous to live alone.”

  “We’re not doing this to be mean,” Thomas said, sitting gingerly beside her and leaning his head against her shoulder. “We’re all just worried about you. And we don’t want to see you end up in a home. Please, just come live with Mom and Dad and me. Please?”

  AJ and I stared at the two of them, me at least hardly daring to breathe. Thomas was unquestionably Grandma’s favorite, the one she spoiled and let get away with pretty much anything, but I still couldn’t quite see her agreeing to give up her house just because her little Tommy had said “please.”

  Grandma, meanwhile, didn’t say anything for a long time. She just sat there staring at the carpet, her face proud and stern. But as the seconds ticked by, I noticed something soft and a little sad creeping into her expression, something I’d never really seen there before.

  “Yes,” she said at last, very quietly, “well. I’ll think about it.” She gave me an accusing stare. “You’ll all just keep pestering me until I do at least that, I suppose.”

  Which was probably true.

  “That’s what family’s for,” I said.

  *

  After Thomas had gotten Grandma to promise she’d stay off the roof for the time being, we headed back downstairs at a slow, trudging pace, like weary soldiers heading home from the front lines. I sure as hell felt like I’d just been through a war, and Grandma hadn’t even put up that much of a fight.

  Then again, maybe that was part of what was bothering me. I mean, no swearing, no yelling, practically no argument at all? It wasn’t like her. It was like she’d...well, like she’d already given up. And while that was kind of what we’d come over here hoping for, it still felt wrong to me, this powerful lady I’d loved and feared for my whole life suddenly just giving in.

  We reached the foot of the stairs, and by some unspoken agreement, the three of us came to a halt there, not really looking at each other or anything in particular.

  “It’ll be weird,” Thomas said.

  AJ glanced at him. “What will?”

  “Grandma not being in this house anymore.”

  We were all quiet at that. And I had to admit to myself that yeah, it really would be weird. Except for the few months after Thomas was born, when Grandma had lived with us for a while, she’d been in this house for as long as I could remember. Even after my namesake, Grandpa Jess (who, unlike me, had actually been masculine enough to pull off the name), had died eight or nine years ago, there’d never been any question that Grandma would stay in their house.

  Thomas nudged me with his elbow, and when I looked down at him, he was trying to smile but not quite managing it. “We’re doing the right thing for Grandma,” he said quietly. “Right?”

  I thought about answering with another headlock, but in the end settled for wrapping my arm around his scrawny shoulders and squeezing. “Yeah, I really think we are. It sucks, but I think it’s what’s best.”

  Thomas nodded and looked a little reassured, and the three of us trooped outside to pile into the car and head home. Before climbing into the driver’s seat, I turned and looked back at the house, which, kind of like its owner, was still stately and regal and commanding even in its old age. The thought of taking Grandma away from this place—her home, after all—suddenly made me feel cold and bad and kind of sick, even though I knew it was the right thing to do. She couldn’t keep living here alone; it just wasn’t possible. It was only a matter of time before something happened, she hurt herself or left the stove on or something, and then...

  I sighed and got into the car, but even after I’d closed the door, I just sat there unmoving for a few seconds, listening to the rustling and fumbling noises from the back seat as Thomas fought the usual battle to get his seat belt fastened. AJ, sitting beside me with his hands resting in his lap, shot me a quick glance before facing front again.

  “It helps if you put the key in the ignition,” he said.

  I gave him an irritated look, but couldn’t help grinning a little. “Thanks.”

  He nodded and folded his arms.

  “Hey,” Thomas piped up from the back seat, “I was thinking...”

  “We’re not going to McDonald’s,” I said, finally starting up the car and
getting us underway, “and I mean it this time.”

  “No,” Thomas said, though from the glance I got of him in the rearview mirror, he looked a little disappointed at the McDonald’s veto. “I meant...I was thinking about Grandma. Maybe we can do something to help her.”

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  “Like...help her contact Grandpa Jess?”

  Silence filled the car.

  “Um,” I said.

  “Think about it. She’s not going to give up trying to do this just because we tell her to.”

  “Probably true.”

  “So if we help her, then at least we can watch her and make sure she’s safe.” A sudden flare of enthusiasm lit up his face. “We can tie ropes around our waists like mountain climbers and anchor them to the windows.”

  I gave a shaky laugh. “Try again.”

  “Man, Jessie, you’re no fun. But fine, if we have to do it the boring way, I guess we could do it on a hill or something, like you said, and just make sure Grandma doesn’t have to sit on the ground. It’ll work great.”

  “Yeah, except for one thing. You can’t contact the dead. And when the whole thing fails spectacularly, she’ll just be out on the roof again the next day.”

  AJ gave his manly shoulders a manly shrug. “We could make it seem like she’d really contacted him. Imitate his voice or something.”

  “Please, that’s so clichéd,” I said. “Every show since nineteen fifty-five has done that bit.”

  “This isn’t a TV show,” AJ said in a flat voice. “Nobody’s going to care if we do something clichéd.”

  “I’ll care.”

  “If it keeps Grandma off the roof, what’s it matter?”

  “Anyway, she’d never fall for it. And it’s dishonest.”

  “Yeah, that’d be a first for you, being dishonest with Grandma. How’s the girlfriend, by the way?”

  I glared at him for as long as I could manage without crashing the car into something. “Mom told her that,” I reminded him pointedly, “not me.”

  “You didn’t try too hard to correct her, though, did you?”

  “We were at a funeral. It didn’t really seem like the right time to say, ‘Oh, by the way, Grandma, I’m as gay as a picnic basket.’”

  AJ shrugged and looked out the window. “I’m just saying.”

  “In any case,” I said, breaking off the battle with AJ in favor of giving Thomas a stern glance through the rearview mirror, “the point is, there will be no séances, clichéd or otherwise.”

  Thomas settled back in his seat, folding his arms and looking pouty. “Well, I’m going to help her do it. And I think we’ll do it on the roof. Maybe during a thunderstorm. All that storm energy will be great for contacting spirits, I bet.”

  “Great, you’ll both get struck by lightning and die and then you won’t need to contact Grandpa Jess.”

  Thomas leaned forward in his seat, his big dark puppy dog eyes appealing to me through the rearview mirror. “Jessie, please, can’t we just do this for her? I feel like it’s really important. Even if it doesn’t work, can’t we just try?”

  Dammit. I let out a breath and shifted my gaze away from the pleading look he was giving me. “I’ll think about it,” I muttered.

  Thomas grinned and sat back, knowing he’d already won, and the rest of the drive was conducted in a peaceful silence. Except, of course, when we passed by those familiar golden arches and Thomas opened his mouth with a hopeful look on his face.

  “No,” I said.

  Thomas shrugged and went back to his Game Boy, and I contented myself with the knowledge that I wasn’t a total pushover, at least.

  Not that that would be much comfort if we really did end up calling up the spirits with Grandma, but...at least it was something.

  Chapter Two

  David dumped another sugar packet into his coffee. “A séance?” he said mildly. “That sounds...”

  “Insane?” I suggested.

  “Interesting,” he said with a quirk of a grin. “I was going to say ‘interesting.’”

  “Yeah, well, same thing,” I grumbled, but there wasn’t much heart in it. It was hard to be grumbly when David was sitting across from me with that soft smile on his face, his silky brown hair falling in shampoo commercial waves down to his shoulders. He’d spent the whole day teaching little kids to tie their shoes and say their ABCs and not eat paste, and he still looked like he’d just stepped out of the pages of GQ or something. Life just wasn’t fair sometimes.

  Or, well, maybe it was, since I could bask in his general hotness as much as I wanted. But that, of course, was another problem altogether.

  “Anyway,” David went on, taking a sip from a cup of coffee that should’ve been just one congealed chunk of sugar by now, “I think it’s kind of nice. And it might help her to feel like you’re on her side.”

  I swirled the tea around in my cup. “I don’t know. I sort of feel like encouraging her in being insane isn’t such a good idea.”

  “Maybe it’s not insanity.”

  I stared at him. Why did the gorgeous ones always end up being nuts?

  “I mean, it might not be insanity so much as...reaching out for something familiar, something comforting. She’s getting on in years, and her family’s suddenly trying to get her to leave her home, give up her independence. Maybe the thought of being able to talk with her late husband gives her some comfort in the face of all that.”

  I was quiet for a moment, considering. David, meanwhile, made a face at his coffee and reached for another sugar packet.

  “Well,” I said at last, “maybe you’re right. I mean, aside from the whole séance on the roof thing, Grandma always seems pretty lucid, so it’s possible—maybe—that she hasn’t lost it entirely with this contacting-the-dead stuff. But either way...I don’t know. I just don’t see it doing any good.”

  “I don’t see it doing any harm, either. And if nothing else, it should keep her off the roof for the time being, and might end up giving her the closure she needs to sell her house and move in with your parents.” He sank into a thoughtful pause, then grinned at me. “And if you want some company, I’d be glad to come along. It sounds like it could be pretty interesting.”

  My heart started beating a little faster, and I gave it a stern command to stop that right now. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “It could be fun,” he said, like that settled it. “Just let me know what day the big event is planned for, and I’ll be there.”

  “Huh,” I said. “Well. Okay.”

  “What?” He laughed. “You don’t want me there?”

  Um, no, actually, you could probably be my Siamese twin and I’d still wish I could see you more. Though if you were my Siamese twin, we’d be related, so maybe not.

  “No, it’s not that,” I said aloud. “It’s just...are you sure you want to get involved in this? My family is pretty nutty sometimes.”

  “Most families are. I think I can handle it. And I’m kind of interested to see how this all turns out.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured, “me, too.” I gave myself a little shake—stop staring at him, you moron—and returned my attention to my tea, which I hadn’t actually gotten around to sampling yet. “Well, I’ll let you know, then, I guess.”

  “Great,” he said, and got to his feet. “Well, sorry to run, but I have to get home. Homework to grade, Play-Doh to get out of my hair. You know the drill.”

  “Gotcha. Need a lift?”

  “Nah, I’ll just take the train. But,” he added with a smile, “I wouldn’t object to some company on the way to the station.”

  As I followed him to the door of the café, I tried not to notice the easy, graceful way he moved, or the smooth curves of his shoulders under the white dress shirt. Or, for that matter, how very nicely shaped he was overall, from the slow taper of his torso down to other, lower regions…

  Stop that stop that stop that.

  I took a scalding gulp of my tea, which helped to direct m
y attention away from David and onto the sudden flash of pain from my burning tongue and throat. I promised myself that soon, very soon, I’d just blurt out to David that I was completely infatuated with him and wanted to rip off his clothes and have my way with him, and then he could be shocked and appalled—but nice about it—and turn me down once and for all, and then maybe my hormones would finally get the idea and stop acting up every time he was around. Or maybe he would just move to Guatemala or something, and then I’d never have to see him again. That would solve the problem, too. Either way, something had to be done, and soon.

  Tomorrow, I promised myself, falling into step beside him and pointedly ignoring the fact that our fingers brushed together once or twice as we walked and this felt rather nice. Tomorrow, over lunch, I’ll tell him.

  Next week. Next week, when he’s over some night to watch a movie or something, I’ll tell him.

  On my deathbed. I’ll tell him on my deathbed. He wouldn’t dare spit on a dying man, and I wouldn’t be alive for long enough to have to go through all the crap of getting over him, so...perfect.

  I took another drink from my tea, and since my mouth was already numb from the pain of the last time, it hardly burned at all.

  Seeing as I was kind of preoccupied, I didn’t hold up my end of the conversation very well as we walked. By the time we got to the familiar door to the train station with its chipping paint and big brown sign, David and I had fallen into a silence that might’ve been awkward—I couldn’t really tell. Either way, it was pretty thick. We came to a stop in front of the double doors and David took a breath like he was going to say something, then for some reason didn’t say it, just let the breath trickle out instead.

  “Well,” he said after a few seconds, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Right,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”