The sunroom was just off to the right of the kitchen. Gran had always loved this room. She kept her flowers and plants in here. When we were younger, all the girls had tea parties with Gran at the round glass table that sat in the right corner. The windows overlooked the backyard and the pool. There were memories of our childhood attached to this space. Birthday parties we’d had, summers in the pool, Easter Egg Hunts in the backyard. I knew those were also reasons Gran loved this room.
“Here’s your water,” I told her as I set the drink beside her. “Are you feeling hungry yet?” Her appetite was nonexistent. She was trying though. If only to keep my dad and Aunt Amanda from worrying so much.
“I’ll eat in a bit. Sit and talk to me. Tell me about your time away, the people you met, and the dark shadows of pain in your beautiful eyes.”
I paused for a brief second then sat down in the chair beside the recliner my grandfather had bought her recently to keep in the sunroom. If my parents had noticed, neither had mentioned it, but Gran had never been one to mince words. She got to the point. With her weakened state telling her what I’d not shared with anyone seemed like a bad idea. She’d worry about me. She needed to focus on her body and mind.
“Life outside Sea Breeze is different. I’ve seen a lot,” I said, hoping it was enough and knowing that it wouldn’t be. Not for my gran.
She cleared her throat weakly and took a drink of her water then shift slightly in her large pale blue recliner so she could see me better. The “don’t bullshit me boy” frown on her face was still as intimidating as it had been in my childhood. I hadn’t expected that frown and seeing something so familiar from the healthy full of life Gran I’d always known gave me hope. For her. Not me.
“I’ve lived my own pain right here in this town and survived. Don’t tell me about having seen a lot. That’s not what I’m getting at and you know it. There are scars in that soul and I can see it clearly in those eyes of yours. You can’t hide that behind tattoos and a lot of hair. Not to me, you can’t. It don’t fool me at all.” She took a deep breath and I didn’t like seeing her get worked up.
I leaned forward and took her frail hand in mine. “I’m fine. Good. You need to focus on you. We all need you and I won’t be fine if you don’t fight through this. You need your strength and your focus needs to be on you.” That was as close to honesty as Gran needed.
She sighed and then rolled her eyes at me. The reaction looked so much like my aunt Amanda, I wanted to laugh. Gran appeared younger in that moment. I wanted to remember it for the day I would need her memories to hold onto.
“You, my beautiful boy, have always had my heart. I don’t do favorites, but you are your father. In looks and personality. You have his smile, his laugh, his beautiful heart. My other grandsons are their father.” She shook her head in exasperation, but the soft smile on her lips made it clear my cousins were loved as dearly as I was. “I love those wild boys with a fierceness. But you get a special place because when you were born, it was like watching my Marcus grow all over again. And I see the difference deep inside you. You’ve been hurt in a way that will forever mark you. Now, tell your gran what happened.”
I knew no matter what I did to persuade her that I was okay, she’d keep on pushing. Nothing would stop her from hitting me with questions. They’d get more direct and she’d pull all she could from me. It would be her will against mine.
I decided to give her some. Maybe it would be enough. I just couldn’t give her all of it. Speaking the truth aloud was more than I could do. Even now.
“I fell in love and she was killed in a car accident.” That was as truthful as I could be with Gran. The details, the other . . . I couldn’t.
Gran thought about that for a few moments and I said nothing. Waiting to see what else she’d want to know. Or if she’d push for more. Finally after she stared over my shoulder with a thoughtful expression, her gaze met mine again. “What was her name?” she asked me.
“Alice,” I replied, and her face was there in my memory. Not the bright beaming smile that had first drawn me in but the face . . . the face I’d had to identify . . . the face of death. Something no man is prepared for. “O’Connor,” I added her maiden name just to distract myself. The memories I wanted to forget were forcing themselves to replay in my head.