It's the same as always. Except for the circumstances.
"I just got off a plane. Give me a break." I move closer to her bed. "I'm tea deprived."
"Nothing good here," Grandma says. "But there is a Starbucks up the street." She looks to Mom. "Get us something, honey?"
Mom nods. She pulls me into a tight hug and plants a kiss on my forehead. "Take as long as you need."
Because this is it.
This might be one of a few weeks of conversations—there's no way I'm flying back to LA now. Not until...
This might be our last conversation.
Tears threaten to hit my eyes, but I swallow them down. If this is our last conversation, I want to savor it.
I want it to be about more than Grandma dying.
But I still have to say a goodbye. "I love you, Grandma. I'm... I just want you to know how much I love you. And how much I've missed our conversations. And spending summers with you. And reading you my Days of Our Lives fan fiction. I'm up to chapter five in my book. I wrote a little on the plane."
"Yeah?"
I nod. "It's been a nice distraction."
"From this?"
"Yeah, and... I don't want to talk about my problems."
"I do." She sits up a little straighter. "You know I love giving you advice, Kay-Bear."
"You mean telling me what to do?"
She laughs. It's hearty. Alive. "Tell me what happened. It's that hot friend of yours?"
I nod. "Emma realized. She freaked. She stopped talking to me. Then I... I thought we were okay, but he..."
"Oh, Kay—"
"I told him I loved him. And it scared him, I guess. I don't know. He kept saying he's not good for me. That I shouldn't love him. But that's ridiculous. He's the sweetest guy I've ever known."
Grandma squeezes my hand. "I'm sorry, baby. Some people won't get out of their own way. You can't always stop that."
"I know. But it sucks."
"That it does." She laughs. "There will be other guys."
"Is it that hopeless?"
"Maybe not." She pats my hand. "You're a catch, Kay-bear. Pretty. Smart. Sweet. He's a fool to let you go."
"He's trying to say it's for me. Because he's bad for me. Or something. I'm not sure."
"The hot ones are never smart."
I laugh. "He is. Just—"
"We've all got our baggage. After your grandfather left, I wouldn't even look at men. I'd get write ups at work for being disrespectful to my supervisors."
I smile. That sounds like Grandma.