Which I did. Flinching at every sudden movement in the corner of my eye.
“In fact,” I say, touching her arm. She looks at my hand, but doesn’t pull away. “Things aren’t actually too bad. I mean, you know, I still haven’t gotten anywhere with Henna, but she said my name.
Which has got to mean something. And we’re graduating soon and Jared and I will be in the same city, which is cool. And Mel’s looking good, healthier than ever–”
I stop her from pulling her nightgown off over her head. She takes the correction easily and even drinks from a glass of water when I offer it.
“So,” I say. “What I can’t figure out is, why am I so worried all the time? If I stop and look, things are okay. They could be better – there’s this guy in school that Henna likes, your daughter-in-law is running for office again – but I’m almost in a new life, one I’m looking forward to, I think.”
Grandma just stares at me.
“But I’m going to have a scar on my face. Everyone says it’ll look cool, but how can they know?
And … and I’m counting things again. I’m getting trapped. I feel like something awful is going to happen if I don’t do these insane things over and over again. Actually, I feel like something awful’s going to happen anyway. I feel that all the time. Even when I’m happy.”
“Happy,” Grandma repeats. Then she screams three times in a row, loud enough for Mrs Richardson, Mrs Choi and her son to all turn and look. But my grandma goes silent again, confused-looking, her eyes wandering around the room, trying to find something to focus on.
“What if…” I say, quietly. “What if I am going crazy? What if I get trapped in a loop and there’s no one to get me out?”
Grandma’s eyes find mine, rest briefly, then keep wandering.
“What if I get trapped,” I say, “like you are?”
“Phillip,” she says, almost pleading. “Phillip?”
A terrible smell knocks me back. My grandma is softly weeping as I go to find the nurse.
Yeah, kooky Alzheimer ’s really pisses me off.
Henna’s car is still in the ditch. I drove past it on my way to see my grandma. Someone’s covered it with a tarp, but otherwise, it’s just sitting there. It’s Monday, so maybe they were waiting for the weekend to finish. Maybe they’ll tow it away today. And that’s what makes me stop on my way back from the nursing home.
I want my phone.
I park and get out. The weather ’s warmed up to normal May sunshine, and you can smell the deer even though it’s only been a couple days. Nothing too rank yet, nothing as bad as it will get. We once had a possum die under the living room. You wouldn’t believe how bad something that small can stink.
I look around. We really do live out in the boonies. There’s no one, just the ends of driveways leading into thickets of trees. And why should I feel like I’m trespassing anyway? It’s my phone.
The tarp’s tied on pretty tight with a nylon rope. I walk around the wreck, trying to find a weak spot.
The driver ’s side door wouldn’t close properly after they pried it open, and the ropes are looser there. A flap of the tarp lifts right up. I duck down and look inside. The roof is sheared nearly all the way off, so it’s like looking into a convertible with the top down. Covered in a tarp.
The deer smell is much stronger here, and the trapped heat makes it even worse. There’s a kind of tunnel across the driver ’s seat past the broken steering wheel. I can’t fit to crawl all the way in, but I think I can lean in far enough to feel around.