Stormy and Grandma Roseby Mimi Rosen |
Part 1 appears in this issue. |
| conclusion |
Pat Taylor Speaking walks into the parlor. I go to her. She nudges me, her eyes on Sue and Grandma Rose. “The doctor says we might see improvement once Grandma is in a sane environment.”
“What happened?” Sue asks, scraping the side of her thumb with her index finger. “Mike and I visited over Easter vacation. She recognized everyone then.”
“Mini-strokes, the doc said.” Pat Taylor Speaking sighs. “I’m sure whatever went on here didn’t help.”
“I wish she could tell us,” Sue mumbles.
“Who... Who... Who?” Grandma Rose reaches towards Pat Taylor Speaking. Her hand bounces then sinks to her lap.
“It’s me, Grandma. Patricia.”
“Are her hands always fisted like that?” Sue grasps Grandma Rose’s hand.
“Seem to be.”
“She should be in a nursing home, Patricia. Do you realize how involved she is?”
“I realize.”
“So, let’s find a good home for her.”
Pat Taylor Speaking shakes her head. “If Grandma hadn’t stepped in for us... I think she’s the only reason I’m somewhat normal.” Her chin quivers. “I can’t believe I let this happen to her.”
“You? Mom was taking care of her.”
“Mom couldn’t take care of Stormy.” Her eyes shift towards me.
“We all thought she was doing better, Patricia.”
“So, we trusted her blindly, as if dumping us on her crack-addict friends when we were kids wasn’t enough of a sign.” She squeezes the back of her neck. “People don’t change, Sue.”
I rest my chin on her lap. Her legs are firm and her pants smell like laundry room. She strokes my head.
“What are you gonna do with Stormy?” Now Sue’s flicking the side of her index finger with her thumb nail.
“Oh... huh... find him a good home, I guess.”
“Why don’t you let Mom find a good home for Stormy?”
She clears her throat.
“Patricia, you don’t have to be the one to fix this.” Pat Taylor Speaking’s eyes connect with Sue’s. “Even when we were kids, you always tried to make things right.”
“Well.” She clears her throat again. “I am the older one.”
Sue reaches over and hugs her. They both sniff and huff.
I sniff too, wagging my nub and watching them.
* * *
“Get it, Stormy,” Brandon says.
I chase the ball, pick it up, and look at Brandon.
“Now, bring it back,” Brandon says, rolling his arms.
I drop the ball and go to Brandon.
“No, bring the ball back.”
I sit.
“He’s not too smart, is he?” Felicia says.
“He’s smarter than you, butt-brain.”
“Dad,” Felicia whines. “Brandon called me butt-brain.” She stomps into the kitchen.
A car door slams. I dash to the picture window again. Frank and Annabelle are standing out front. I sink in behind Grandma Rose, waiting, watching the front door open.
“Oh, everybody’s here,” Annabelle says, walking into the house.
No one speaks.
“What’s going on, an intervention?” Annabelle laughs. Her eyes shift to each of the faces in the parlor.
Mike pokes his head in and smiles. “You okay?” he asks Sue.
She nods.
“I’ll be out back with the kids.”
Sue straightens her blouse and steps towards Annabelle. “Where have you been?”
“Frank and I went to Vegas for a few weeks.”
“A few weeks? Where’d you get the money?” Pat Taylor Speaking asks, blocking Annabelle and Frank from entering the parlor.
“I have a nephew out there,” Frank says, charging into the room.
Pat Taylor Speaking sidesteps.
“Well, who was supposed to be taking care of Grandma?” Sue asks.
“What do you mean? I had someone staying with her,” Annabelle sets her purse on the small table near the entrance and unzips it.
“Who?” Sue asks.
“A friend of Frank’s cousin,” Annabelle says, digging through her purse. She pulls out a cigarette and places it in the corner of her mouth.
Pat Taylor Speaking’s jowls flex. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Didn’t wanna bother you.” Annabelle clicks a lighter with her thumb until it produces a flame. “Frank said she’d check in.”
“Well, she didn’t.” Pat Taylor Speaking whispers. “Gracie was nice enough to come and stay with Grandma until I could get here.” She closes her eyes. “How could you do this, Mom?”
“Me?” Annabelle puffs. “I didn’t do anything. It was Frank’s cousin, recommending Ida. That’s who we oughta blame.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her eyes shift too, from face to face.
“Don’t blame my cousin,” Frank says, pivoting around Sue. “She wasn’t the one to just up and leave.”
Sue narrows her eyes at Annabelle. “Didn’t you think to check in with this Ida person?”
“We was on vacation.” Frank puffs out his chest. He walks towards Grandma Rose.
I move in front.
“Get out of here, dog.” He bumps me hard.
I yelp.
“You know Frank, that chain you had around Stormy’s neck was so tight it made welts.” Pat Taylor Speaking moves towards him.
“The dog kept getting loose, knocking over people’s garbage cans,” Frank says. “Everyone in the neighborhood was complaining.”
Annabelle rotates the hand with the cigarette behind her and kisses Grandma Rose’s cheek. “Hi Mommy.”
Grandma Rose’s eyes smile. “Annabelle.”
Pat Taylor Speaking aims her fighting stare at Annabelle. “I’m bringing Grandma home with me.”
The fur on my back rises.
“When did you decide that?” Frank asks, elevating his shoulders.
“When I realized how you were caring for her,” Pat Taylor Speaking says to Annabelle. “She’s your mother.” Her eyes drip.
“You think I wanted this.” Annabelle wobbles, grasping the back of Grandma Rose’s chair.
“No,” Pat Taylor Speaking whispers. “I think you don’t know how to care about anyone except yourself.” Her eyes drip some more. “So, you keep doing horrible things to the people you’re supposed to love?”
Annabelle taps the hand holding her cigarette against the side of her leg, dropping smoldering ash on the rug.
Pat Taylor Speaking sucks in a choppy breath. Then she tightens her lips and looks at Sue. They both look at Annabelle.
“We’re selling the house. I’ve already contacted a realtor,” Pat Taylor Speaking says. “So, you and Frank will have to find somewhere else to live.”
“You’ll have to make arrangements for Stormy too, Mom,” Sue says.
“Annabelle should get a piece of whatever you get for the house,” Frank says. “After all it belongs to her mother. That practically makes it hers.”
“We’re opening a new bank account for Grandma Rose and we’re putting the money there,” Pat Taylor Speaking says. “Considering there’s nothing left in her current account.”
“I had expenses.” Annabelle’s cheeks tremble. She aims her stare at Pat Taylor Speaking — who stares back. Annabelle’s eyes sink. “Whatever.” She puffs. “Frank, get the dog.”
Frank comes at me fast. I sink between Grandma Rose and the picture window, my eyes on Pat Taylor Speaking. Her eyes are on me, too.
“Wait,” she says and everyone stops. “I’ll find a home for Stormy.”
“What?” Sue turns. “I thought we were gonna let Mom handle it?”
Pat Taylor Speaking bites her lip.
* * *
I shove my snout into one of the open boxes. It smells like old shoes and Grandma Rose.
“Let me get at that, Stormy,” Sue says, zipping tape across the box.
“If Mom doesn’t come back for her things, I’m tossing ’em,” Pat Taylor Speaking says, carrying a box outside.
A truck rumbles out front. Two men maneuver the bed from Grandma Rose’s room through the door.
Brandon comes over and strokes my head. “Can we keep Stormy, Mom?”
Sue glances at him, while zipping tape across another box. “Take this out to the truck.”
Brandon smiles at me and carries the box towards the door, shifting to the side as Pat Taylor Speaking reenters. “Aunt Patricia, Mom said that maybe we can keep Stormy.”
Patricia glances at Sue, who shakes her head, mouthing the words “No way.”
“Wait... ah,” Grandma Rose extends her shaky hand towards Brandon. Then she looks at Pat Taylor Speaking. “Where... where... where?”
Buzzzz. Patricia removes the phone from her pocket and looks at it. Then she squeezes it and puts it in her purse. “It’s okay, Grandma.” She kneels beside her.
“So, was Gracie able to find a home for Stormy?” Sue asks.
“Well,” Pat Taylor Speaking eyes shift towards me. “It’s got to be the right home.”
Sue laughs, shaking her head. “But you’re leaving tomorrow.”
I rest my chin on Grandma Rose’s cushiony lap. Her pants feel slick and warm. Grandma Rose extends her fingers, stroking the top of my head. Her hands are soft, her movements gentle and smooth. I close my eyes.
“I know you,” she says in a familiar voice. “You’re a good dog.”
“Sue, look at Grandma Rose petting Stormy.”
“I see. Her hands aren’t balled up. Maybe Stormy can be her therapy dog.” Sue laughs.
I look up at Pat Taylor Speaking. Her eyes smile at me.
Copyright © 2010 by Mimi Rosen
