“This is Betty Addison,” she sighs, taking a deep breath. “There’s no easy way to say this so I’m just going to be blunt. I’m your grandmother.”
I pull my phone away again and look at the screen. I don’t think I heard her properly, but I swear she said grandmother. I only know my father’s side of the family and his mother died when I was young. When my Gram passed, I cried for days, she was like a mom to me. My mother never talks about her parents.
“Um… okay.”
“I’m in town this week and I thought we could have lunch. There’s a nice little café by your campus.”
“You’re here?”
“Yes, you go to the University of Texas, right?”
“Yes, but how did you find me?”
“I have my ways Liam. I’d really like to meet you, buy you lunch and just talk.”
What do I have to lose and it’s free food away from the cafeteria. “Sure,” I say and before I know it I’m agreeing to meet her tomorrow at noon. It dawns on me that she’s been absent all my life and that irritates me some. Does she know what kind of man Sterling Westbury is?
I’m nervous as I wait for her… do I call her grandma? My leg bounces, causing the table to jiggle back and forth. When the chair in front of me pulls out and she sits down, I see an older version of my mother. Or what I envision my mom will look like if she doesn’t die from alcohol poisoning first.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she tells me while studying my face. I don’t return the sentiment because I haven’t known she’s existed for more than twelve hours.
Conversation is awkward at first as we get to know each other, but half an hour in it's like I've known her my entire life. We sit and talk for hours. My grandma tells me she’s an actress, but hasn’t acted in years. When I ask about my mom and why they don’t talk, she shows me a picture of Bianca. She’s dressed as a starlet, holding a trophy. Betty says it’s her Rising Star Award. She won it at sixteen.
“She never told me,” I admit quietly, complete enamored with the beauty that was my mother. An actress – that’s what she wanted to be.
“When she met your father she gave up her dreams for his. I fought hard to make her see what she was doing, but your father was determined to have a trophy wife on his arm and your mother would do anything to please him.”
“That’s how she is, or was,” I add. “My mom, she drinks a lot and doesn’t really have any emotions. My parents…” I shake my head, but something inside of me tells me I can trust her. “They’re not good parents.”
“Why are you here at the University of Texas?”
I smile and lean forward to tell my grandma my story. It flows freely, starting in the eighth grade and until I graduated. I tell her all about Josie, Mason and Katelyn and even playing my guitar at open mic nights. She in turns tells me about my mom and I sit and listen to her stories, each more fascinating than the one before.
Betty reaches across the table and takes my hand in hers. Her smile in infectious and I can see why she’s an actress. I make a mental note to find some of her movies so I can watch her perform.
“You remind me of your grandfather.”
My ears perk up. Half of me wants to ask her everything that I’ve missed, but the other half doesn’t want to know because I’ve missed so much and I don’t know if I can bear the heartbreak of knowing that someone out there actually cares about me.
“He was a jazz musician, played the trumpet. We were married for five years.” She waves her hands as if wiping away a memory. “He liked his booze and women a little too much, but was a good dad to Bianca.”
“I hate that she has never talked about her family. I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone here.”
“I know how you feel, but I’m here now, for whatever you need Liam, whether it’s football or singing. I want you to be able to count on me.”
I move my coffee cup back and forth. “I don’t like football anymore and…” I shake my head and lean toward her. “No one back home understands this music thing, but I feel ”
“At peace when you’re playing?”
I nod. “How do you know?”
“Your grandfather was the same way. He’d play for hours in the garage just blowing that old horn and when I asked him once why, he said because it’s the only time when the voices aren’t telling him what to do.”
I smile and agree. “That’s exactly how I feel. I lay in bed at night and the anxiety is so much I feel like it’s trying to drown me. What was his name, my grandfather?”
Betty lights up. “Charlie Page.”