Do whatever it takes to make it work.
We don't leave until the nurse insists.
It's so quiet at home. It's strange. Usually the house is full of Grandma's laugh. Or some loud, exciting show she's watching. This whole place is her. The walls are bright jewel tones. The blankets on the black leather couch are hot pink.
She's always so bright and vibrant.
It's scary that soon she won't be alive.
But I'm starting to accept it.
* * *
I'm halfway through my morning tea—shitty generic tea—when the doorbell rings.
Mom is making eggs in the kitchen.
Dad is asleep in the bedroom.
It's early. Seven-something. Who the hell could that be?
"Can you get that, Kay?" Mom's voice is even. Knowing.
Huh.
I take one more sip and push myself to my feet.
This is a small place. It's only a dozen footsteps to the door. "Hello."
"Hey."
That's Brendon's voice.
What the hell?
My stomach gets all light and floating. Nervous energy spills through my limbs. He's here. Why is he here? What does that mean?
I need his comfort so badly.
But I...
If he's not here to kiss and makeup...
I can't take falling more in love with him.
I pull the door open. "Hey."
He's standing there in jeans and a t-shirt. Like it's a normal day. Like we're about to walk to the shop.
But then...
His shirt is wrinkled. His hair is a mess. His eyes are heavy. Tired.
"We just got in." He nods to the black suitcase next to him. Then to the car parked on the street. A rental car. Emma is in the passenger seat, staring at the mirror. "Emma insisted on fixing her makeup. I told her I wouldn't wait."
I nod. That's so them.
"Your mom told me what's going on. I'm sorry, Kay. I wish things were different."