“Jesus—”
“Right. We’re not going there. We’re talking about Esme.”
“Esme?”
“My great-granddaughter. Esme. Pretty name, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Better than Wilder, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I guess it is.”
“Are you just saying that to butter me up?’
“No. I really don’t overly care for my name.”
Silas grunts and nods like that’s a good thing, or maybe I’ve passed some test. Perhaps this is the first stage of my own personal horror movie, and I’m about to enter the gates of hell. Maybe there’s a basement under here, and I’m seriously f-bombed right now, but I don’t even know it yet. It could be that urine is the least of my worries.
“Hmm. Here’s the deal. I’ll get to it since I probably haven’t got long to live, or at least that’s what they all keep telling me. I realize I’m wasting time I might not have. Not that I care, you understand. I’ve lived a good life. My only worry is for Esme. I don’t want to think of a world where I’m not around to look after her.”
I think I’m starting to see where this is going. Silas lets me have the car in exchange for me looking after his great-granddaughter financially? In general? Checking in by phone or email once in a while to make sure she’s okay? Finding her a job? All of the above and then some?
“Thing is, I don’t like her living alone in that big old house. It’s right on the edge of the city where anything could happen to her. It’s my old place, and she moved in a couple of years ago. They wanted to put me in a home, but I refused, so I got myself this place that’s closer to everything. I have a nurse who comes once a day to check that I’m still alive. They think she’s dressing me, bathing me, cleaning for me, cooking, all of that nonsense. It’s our secret that she just pops in to say hi and leaves. You won’t tell, will you?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Good. Good.”
I’m not sure why Silas brought tea because it’s totally forgotten and stone cold by now. There’s a thin filmy crust forming on mine that I really hope I won’t have to drink shortly, but I’ll do it if I have to, of course.
“Anyway, yes, the minutes are ticking off my life. Here we go. I guess when people get old, all they do is ramble on. Do you think I ramble?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Good. So, Esme. She’s a nice girl living all alone in that big house. Of course, I left it to her, along with a big chunk of change to take care of it. But that’s not her problem. Finances aren’t a worry as she has a job. She sells crafts online or some nonsense, and she also has a blog where she writes about her animals. Surprisingly, she has a big following, and I guess that stuff sells. Anyhow, Esme. Yes, she’s alone, and she likes it that way. But the thing is, I don’t like it. I’m worried about her, and I want to see her looked after and not so lonely. She must be lonely even if she would never admit it because all those animals aren’t the same as real human companionship. Anyway, I want you to move in with her.”
“Excuse me?” I gape at Silas, who just nods and stares back at me with those huge eyes of his. All without blinking, which is kind of creepy. I’m wondering if this is where the ax or the chainsaw comes out, and the door to the basement suddenly opens, and there’s a portal down there. It couldn’t get any stranger.
Silas hasn’t done anything to make me think he’s not a nice, sweet old man. He also hasn’t done anything to lead me to believe he’s not in control of his faculties or senile. He doesn’t seem senile. In fact, he seems pretty dang sharp. But this? This plan or request or whatever it is? It’s kind of borderline crazy.
“That’s right. The house is huge, so I want you to move in and stay for at least six months—as her roommate, not as anything more. I just want you to be a friend to her and make sure she’s okay, really okay. And that she’s going to be okay when I’m not here to look after her. I just want you to do that for six months and get to know her. Then you can move back to wherever it is you live now. Pittsburgh, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Why in the tarnation would you live there? Doesn’t seem like a good place for a rich kid to live.”
“It’s alright. I grew up there. And we don’t like to live…uh…like we’re rich.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You come from good stock. That’s important. You know, being sensible. You phone a lot?”