I knew what Nan was doing. I thought about calling her on it, but she was good, distracting me with talk of my mother, inevitables. Still, I knew she had started to say her good-byes.
Dr. Wentworth came in then, his head bent, showing us only the thick gray hair that always stayed rigidly in place. He held a clipboard and his gaze was fixed on it rather than meeting our eyes.
“We’ve rerun all of your core tests, Ms. Dinakis. And, aside from a slightly elevated blood pressure, they’re fine.”
“That can’t be,” I said. “You’ve missed something.”
He looked up at me, his steely eyes emotionless, used to handling the irrational. “Why do you say that?”
“Something’s wrong. I know it is. What about her blood pressure?”
Dr. Wentworth glanced at his papers again and shrugged. “It’s elevated, but not enough for concern. It’s not unusual after an episode like your grandmother had.”
I shook my head. “Then it must be something else. What other tests are there?”
Dr. Wentworth turned to Nan. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Nan shrugged and before she could answer, I butted in. “Listen, I … I don’t know how to explain it, but I have a sense about this kind of stuff sometimes. About bad things …” I could hear desperation, a whiny, pleading thread in my voice. How could I tell him? If I explained, he’d never believe me. If I didn’t, he’d think just what I could see written all over his face: that I was a hysterical girl, maybe a touch crazy.
Nan said Dr. Wentworth was a good doctor, so I’d ignored the way he talked to me like I was a five-year-old and never looked me in the eye. But obviously he wasn’t a good enough doctor, because he didn’t know something was wrong and I did. Except I couldn’t tell him how. I felt like screaming, I was so frustrated, and I had to grit my teeth as I watched him suppress a grin.
“You mean like a sixth sense?”
I stared right back at him. “Something like that.”
He stole a quick look at Nan, then Tina. Seeing no humor in either of their faces, he composed himself. “I know how upsetting it is to have someone you love in the hospital like this. It’s natural to be worried, even think that the worst is just around the corner, but your grandmother is fine. Really.”
I was waiting for him to come put his arm around me, but to his credit, he stood his ground. At least he could read me that well. There wasn’t a chance I was letting him off with a bunch of platitudes, though. “Here’s the thing …,” I said, trying to figure out a way to frame it.
“Cassie,” Nan interrupted. “Leave it.” She turned to Dr. Wentworth and Tina. “May we have a few minutes alone?”
“Of course,” Dr. Wentworth said. He patted my shoulder, his big hand heavy on the tender spot where my backpack always rested. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Don’t leave,” I said, my voice low so Nan couldn’t hear, but urgent. “Please. I still need to talk to you.”
He patted my shoulder again without answering.
When the door hissed softly closed, Nan asked, “How were you going to explain it, Cassie?”
“I don’t know. I’d figure something out. It’s better than just letting him go like that.” I waved toward the door. “He could be leaving the hospital now. And we need him.” I was ready to run after him and actually took a step in that direction, but Nan kept pressing.
“For what?”
“To figure out what’s wrong. What’s going to happen.”
“Why?”
“Why?” How could she ask that? “Because I know and you know, if you believe me, that something’s going to happen to you. Something bad that will … that …”
She nodded. “That could be the end.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
She was quiet for a minute and, to me, it felt like time had stopped. I was caught between so many things—wanting to get Dr. Wentworth or shake sense into Nan or soak up every last second with her.
“Well, if it’s to be today,” she said finally, “so be it. I’m ready.”
I started to cry. The tears came so suddenly and violently that I couldn’t keep up with them. They ran down my cheeks, gray trails of salt and mascara. “But I’m not,” I squeezed out.
“Come here, Cassie.”
I walked to her side, too agitated to sit on my pillowed chair. She stretched out her arms and I leaned in, resting my head on her shoulder. She stroked my hair.
“I know, honey. People rarely are. But it’s going to happen someday. If not today, tomorrow. If not tomorrow, next week.” I felt her head shake and knew I’d see her crooked grin if I looked up. And if I could see through my tears. “Why people think they can postpone the inevitable is beyond me.”
“But, Nan, maybe we can. Postpone it, I mean.” I had pulled away and was watching her. “Are you really ready to die?” I flinched at my own bluntness, but Nan didn’t.
She was silent, looking into my eyes. I’m not sure what she was searching for, or whether she saw it, but she smiled and brought her hand, soft like a worn paper bag, to my face, erasing tear tracks. “Remember what I said about your mother? Was I glad that she died? Never. But was my life better because of it? Not because she wasn’t in it, but because you were? Immeasurably. Maybe today is my day to go so that you can move on to what’s next. The better things ahead for you in life.”
“Forget it, Nan,” I said. “That’s baloney.” How could she even say that? “How is being an orphan—not just without parents, but without anyone—going to make life better?”
I thought I saw the sparkle of a tear. “I’m sorry, Cassie. It will be hard, you’re right. But you’re a tough cookie.”
I didn’t answer.
“As Tasha would say, ‘Suck it up.’ ”
“I don’t want to suck it up, Nan. I want to do something about it.”
“Well, I don’t, Cass. Think about it. Really think. If this is our last day together, do you want to spend it running around after Dr. Wentworth? Having them do test after test, pull blood work, send me in for CAT scans and God knows what else?”
“I don’t know, if it means it might not be the last day….”
“But what if there’s no changing things? You’re going to call me crazy, but in a way, it’s a gift to know that we may only have a little time left. At least we can choose how to use it.”