“Come out with me tonight,” Simone says at the beginning of math. It’s been three days since Gram was transferred from the hospital to the hospice facility—three excruciating days of me being forced to attend school when I should be there by Gram’s side.
“You know I can’t,” I say seriously.
“You’ve gone every night this week,” she protests. “You’ve become a slightly unwashed hermit.”
“I still shower.”
“Sure you do.” She smiles, but when I don’t laugh, she sighs. “Linus, I’m sure Gram will be feeling better soon.”
I turn to her. “People don’t get released from hospice,” I say. “They’re giving her drugs to make her comfortable. But she’s still dying.” Too many drugs, I think. So many that half the time, she’s out cold.
“I’m sorry,” she says softer, leaning in toward me because Mr. Pip looks like he’s about to start class. “I’m not trying to sound insensitive. I just don’t really know what to say anymore. No one close to me has ever been sick. You love your gram—hell, I love her too. But it’s like you’re fading away, Caroline. You’re living at your mom’s, sleeping in your weird old penguin bedroom—”
“Not by choice,” I interrupt. “My mom won’t let me stay at my real house. At Gram’s.”
“I know,” Simone says, nodding. “And it sucks. Everything sucks for you right now. That’s my point. Can’t you take one night off ? We’ll do something fun. I hear there’s a party at—”
“No,” I say quickly, but without conviction. Then Mr. Pip gives us a look and we’re forced to be quiet.
My eyes fall to my blank notebook. I feel heavy with guilt, like there’s lead in my veins. Truth be told, I’d give anything to go to a party, no matter where it is. I’d give anything to get away from it all. I’m craving a break from my life. From my grief. From my family.
From Gram.
Because when it comes down to it, waiting for someone to die is like being told a tornado is coming. You press pause on your life and brace yourself—but you don’t know when it will hit, how bad it’ll be. You can prepare all you want, but in the end, you just don’t know.
• • •
When I arrive at the hospice facility after school, Gram is asleep in the bed—but her face is slack, her chest rising and falling slowly. Natalie waits at her side, and she looks up with a weary expression, her hair in a messy knot.
“Where’s Teddy?” I ask.
“He went to grab something to eat. It’s exhausting being here all day.” She says it like it’s my choice to go to school, as if I wouldn’t rather stay here with my grandmother, begging the universe to let me keep her. I pull up a chair on the other side of the bed and try to block out my sister’s existence. It doesn’t work.
“Her vitals were weak this morning,” Natalie murmurs. “They’ve been adjusting her medication.”
“Her vitals were weak two days ago, then they got better.”
“Well, she’s worse now,” Natalie says. “She hasn’t woken up all day, and they don’t know when she will. Mom nearly collapsed and I had to call Albert to take her out for some air. She’s going to need you after this, so don’t pull one of your stunts.”
I scoff. “Stunts? It was five years ago, Natalie. I had every right to move in with Gram.” I lean toward my sister. “And I’m still glad I left. I don’t regret a second of it.” I sit back, feeling sick that Natalie brings out the venom in me.
“Where will you run away to this time?” she asks bitterly. “There’s no one to pick up your pieces anymore.”
I glance sideways at my grandmother’s face, serene in sleep . . . or sedation. “She’s not dead, you know,” I whisper. “So stop acting like she is.” I take Gram’s hand, noting how cool her skin is. I stand and the chair scrapes loudly on the floor. “I’m not going to sit here listening to this,” I tell Natalie. “Have Teddy call me when he gets back.”
I walk away, feeling my sister’s glare on my back. “That’s right, Caroline,” she calls out dramatically. “Run away. Take all the attention for yourself. You’re worse than the two-year-old because you should know better.”
“Drop dead,” I say, and then suddenly wish I could take it back. I turn to my sister, her expression stunned and hurt, but it’s too late to apologize. Instead I can only lower my eyes.
“Love you, Gram,” I tell my grandmother, hoping she can hear me. And then I leave, planning to come back when Teddy does. Just as I get into the hallway, the sunlight outside the window fades behind a cloud, making it seem suddenly dark. It’s eerie even though I’m safe. My phone rings, startling me. I glance at the caller ID and take a deep breath.
“Hey,” I say into the line.
“Well?” Simone asks. “Are you coming with me or do I have to kidnap you? Please tell me it’s the first option, because I’m running low on chloroform.” She launches into a description of the party, who will be there, and what her outfit options are.
“It’s not a good time, Mony,” I say, interrupting her. “My sister is a rag and my mother is having a breakdown. I swear to God if Teddy falls apart, I might just lose it completely.”
“Maybe you need some space from your family.” She says it as if she actually believes the words and isn’t just trying to bend me to her will. “One night off. Come on, Linus. Don’t make me forge important high school memories alone.”
I smile, thinking it over. A party—a college party—sounds like a truly good time, the sort of good time we’ll talk about for the rest of the year. Then again, these moments with my grandmother could be the last I have.
“So . . .” Simone says, waiting for my decision. “Are you going to spend the evening with me and distinguished alumni, or are you going to argue with your sister all night?”
It might be my imagination, but the hallway seems to darken even more. No one is around, and for one moment everything is quiet. And then I sigh.
“Simone,” I start, my decision made. “I’m going to—”
“— stay.”
Simone’s quiet; I know she doesn’t understand. She’s never experienced anything like what I’m going through. I think of reconsidering—it’s just one night—but once the decision’s made, my shoulders loosen. Even though Gram
