“Expected Endings”’
By Joshua Merchant
I expected the phone call from my
Papa. I didn’t ever want it to come, especially not this soon, but I knew it
would. We knew she was sick, very sick. Momma said she was going to die soon,
but that it was too complicated for me to understand. Every time I asked her to
explain, all she would say was that Nanny was so sick that she was going to go
to Heaven soon.
Momma has always said that I was
smarter and more mature that the rest of the eight year olds I know, so she
says I’m handling this better than others would. She says it’s because I
experienced my Daddy’s death just three years ago. I guess that makes sense,
since most of my friend’s dads are still alive. But his death didn’t really
affect me. Momma says I was too young to realize what was happening. I guess
she’s right.
Last night my Papa called my Momma,
and she started crying when they started talking. When they were done talking,
I asked her what was wrong. She said that the doctors told Papa that Nanny only
had a few more days to live, and that we were driving down to St.Cloud, Florida
to see her. This made my upset, mainly because I hate long car rides.
It was a seven hour car ride from Atlanta to St.
Cloud , about six if Momma drove faster than the speed
limit, which I told her was illegal, but she never listened to me. She said the
faster we got there the better, because we probably wouldn’t be able to spend
much time with Nanny. She always got angry whenever I suggested we take a plane
to get there even faster, because she didn’t really trust planes. She says it’s
because of her fear of heights. I think it’s because that how Daddy died.
My favorite thing about the car ride
to St. Cloud
was how much time I got to spend looking out the window. I loved how no matter
how fast we went; everything seemed to go by slow when it came to the never
ending lining of massive, green trees. You always saw people along the highway,
but they came and went in the blink of an eye. People were just an ugly blur
when it came to car rides, but the trees were always there. They were
consistent, changing only with the seasons.
“We’re here,” my Momma said, as we
pulled up in the slim driveway to my Papa’s house. The yard next door contained
nothing but a single rosebush in the middle, surrounded by brown, decaying grass.
The driveway divided the yard in two, and lead to a faded blue awning that was
meant to park a car under, but Nanny and Papa never had a car. They always said
they never needed to go anywhere. I guess that’s what happens when you get old.
“Momma, can I knock on the door this
time? Please?!” I said.
“This time? I always let you knock,”
she said, “just don’t get a splinter.” “I won’t, I promise!”
A rusty and unstable metal walkway
led to a faded green door. Wood chips fell off whenever I knocked on the worn
down entrance to the mediocre trailer like home, which is why I always loved to
knock.
“Well hey there gorgeous!” my Papa
said as he opened the door. He was a heavy set man who looked at least a
hundred years old. He had no hair and wore glasses that could be used as
binoculars. He always had on the same gray sweatshirt with blue jeans on, and
he never did anything but smile, except for now.
“Well hey Papa!” I said as I hugged
him. I felt the sadness in the way his arms wrapped around me. I heard it in his voice too. Things with Nanny
really weren’t good.
“Hey dad,” my mom said with a smile.
Her voice was just as shaky as Papa’s.
“Well you guys – oops sorry – you
girls look great. Why don’t you come inside? I have lemonade on the table.”
When anyone entered my Papa’s house,
the smell of dust and heat combined overwhelmed their nostrils. A short walkway
led to a living room, and it contained two burgundy corduroy lounge chairs, one
beside the other, one having what looks like to be a decade old indentation
where one would sit, the other cradling a delicate and old but still extremely
alluring woman.
Across the chairs sat nothing but an
outdated radio television set resting on an ancient, brown, wooden night stand.
An empty space on the front center of the nightstand, where a jar should be,
does nothing but collect mountains of dust. The television set was always
muted, and played nothing but football games in black and white. The wall facing
me when I entered the room had one shelf mounted toward the top, lined with
photographs of my Nanny and Papa from all around the world. In the back of the
room was a single wooden table with two chairs pulled up to it, and on it sat
nothing but a single jug of lemonade.
“Hey Nanny!” I said, running to the
side of her chair to give her a hug.
“Well hey darling, how are you?” she
said, struggling to get off a smile. She reached for me, and I crawled on to
her lap and into her feeble arms. She wrapped them around me, and the coldness
of her skin contrasted to the muggy air the filled the room, and relaxed me.
“Hey mom,” my momma said, bending
down to give Nanny a kiss on her wrinkly cheek. I was always scared to kiss
Nanny because the brown spots on her face scared me, but Momma never was.
“Hey dear,” Nanny said.
My Papa sat in the chair next to
Nanny and me and my momma pulled up a chair from the table in the back next to
us.
“So how are you feeling?” my momma
asked.
“Oh I’ve definitely been better, but
I’m glad you guys could make it.”
“We are too Nanny,” I said, cuddling
up even closer.
“Well, the thing is, you both know I
don’t have much more time, but, I wanted you guys here one last time,” Nanny
said as tears started to trickle down her face. “I know that this is probably
the last time I will see you guys, and I want you two to do me a favor.”
“Okay, what is it?” my momma said,
speaking as if something was lodged into her throat.
“When you guys leave today, leave
happy, and leave while I am still able to say goodbye.”
I didn’t know what she meant by
this, but I could tell my momma did, for tears instantly started streaming down
her face. I looked over at Papa, and he was just staring at the football game,
a single tear falling down the side of his cheek. After a while, I felt the
tears start to form in my eyes, and I didn’t know why.
We just sat there, for what seemed
to be hours, holding each other, enjoying what time we had left with Nanny. We
made small talk, Nanny would bring up things like school and my piano lessons,
both those conversations never lasted long. No one had the emotional strength
to keep a conversation going.
“Okay, I think it’s time for you
guys to leave,” Nanny said, gently pushing me up off of her lap.
“Mom I don’t think I –“
“Listen, Martha,” Nanny said to my
mom, “you promised.”
“Momma, you can’t break a promise,”
I said, and she shot me one of her motherly death glares that I hated.
“There you go child, that’s how to
live life,” Nanny said, looking at me with a smile.
“I love you mom,” my momma said,
kissing my nanny on the cheek again.
“I do too!” I said, doing the same.
Kissing her wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
“I love you girls. Be safe, and be
happy,” Nanny said.
“I love you dad. Keep her safe,” my
momma said to Papa.
“You know I will sweetie. I always
do,” Papa said.
As we walked out the door, Momma had
a tough time closing it. She kept looking down, and seemed to struggle with
closing the final gap. I wish I could read her mind sometimes, that way I knew
how I could help. When she finally shut it, we both piled into the car, saying
nothing. We had nothing to say.
(c) 2013 | Joshua Merchant
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