She’s gotten used to visits from her granddaughters over the years, but they both have keys to the house. Her oldest granddaughter usually visits over the weekends, less so now that she’s in college, but the youngest still comes over frequently. This summer especially, the lady has seen her most nights. Sometimes, she even hears the front door open when she’s already in bed and in the morning, the room she keeps for her granddaughter is already empty.
It’s not acceptable for a grandmother to have a favorite grandkid, just like a parent should not favor a child. However, in the privacy of her own mind, she can admit to herself that the girl has always had a special place in her heart. It must be because, even from a young age, she acted like the lady was important. Like sheneededher. The lady’s son became distant the moment he hit puberty,and as the years went by, he only got worse. She can admit this to herself, too. As for her oldest granddaughter, she always acted so sure of herself, like she knew her worth and her place in this world. But the youngest was a fragile one. She carried out like she had to apologize for existing. Even when the girl grew older and set some boundaries for herself, the lady never stopped worrying about what would happen to her precious soul.
And now, as she looks at the girl standing on her front porch, her hair plastered against her head from the rain, the lady thinks maybe the worst has finally happened.
She opens the door to her granddaughter, and the moment she notices the bruising on her cheekbone, she gasps, “Oh, my Cassie.”
“I didn’t know if you were asleep already. I-I’m sorry.”
The lady opens the door wider for her and takes her into her arms. As soon as the girl lays her head on her chest, she starts trembling, silent cries jerking her body. The lady doesn’t ask her a thing. She lets her feel whatever it is she’s feeling, all the while soaking in her embrace. She has a feeling it’ll be the last one she’ll feel for a long while.
After a minute, the girl whispers, “I got back from Eli’s too late. He was mad.”
The lady wishes she would stop talking. She doesn’t want to hear yet another horrible thing her son did. Doesn’t want to wonder again where she went wrong. But she also needs to know. She won’t be able to do what she has to if she’s not convinced it’s the right decision.
“Mom tried to get him to calm down, but he was out of it. He moved on her, and I tried to stop him, and…”
She doesn’t need to hear more. She can put two and two together. She pulls her back and takes another good look at the bruise, seemingly expanding even still. It doesn’t look like something that needs to be checked up, but it doesn’t matter. It could’ve been a simple paper cut, and it still would’ve been a line crossed. Who’s to say what will happen next? She’s not going to wait to go visit her granddaughter in the hospital, or worse.
The lady breathes out through pursed lips and walks away.
She’d prepared for this. Every time she looked at the backpack in her coat closet and remembered that her granddaughter might one day need it because her son had finally done the unthinkable, the lady would start crying. She couldn’t believe the little boy she’d watched chase butterflies in the backyard forty years ago could do something like this. Mostly, she couldn’t help the guilt that ravaged her soul when she thought that, despite it all, he remained her son, and she loved him. How could she look her granddaughter in the face when she still wished for a miracle for her tormentor? Still, she planned. If the lady couldn’t rid her grandchild of the man who made her life hell, then the least she could do was be prepared in case the worst happened.
She so wished she’d never have to use this backpack.
She hands it to the girl.
“What is this?”
The lady opens the bag the girl is still holding to find a wad of fifty-dollar bills tied together with a rubber band. She presses it into the girl’s hand.
“We’ve reached the limit, my girl. Haven’t we?”
The girl’s eyes fill. She knows it, too.
The lady takes her in her arms again. “Go, my love. Go, and don’t look back.” She kisses her cheek, inhaling deeply the sweet scent of her shampoo, then pushes her out the door.
The lady doesn’t look outside. She cannot bear it. She waits until the sound of wood creaking under light footsteps comes and goes before she lets her shoulders drop and sighs.
That night, she doesn’t go to bed. Instead, she sits at her kitchen table with a full glass of gin and stares out at the dark water ahead. She doesn’t cry. The tears will come later, she thinks, when the realization of what she’s done settles in.
It must be ten in the morning when another set of knocks comes at her door, frantic this time.
She barely finds the strength to get herself up. She expects the girl’s mother, maybe, or her other granddaughter. But she should’ve expected it’d be the neighbor boy who always looked at her girl with stars in his eyes.
“Have you seen her? Cassie?” he blurts the second she opens the door. He looks haggard, his dark hair sticking out in all directions. “She was supposed to meet me this morning, and she’s not answering her phone, and I can’t find her anywhere.” He barely looks like he’s breathing as he pulls at the roots of his hair. “Did I do something? Yesterday,we…”
He stops himself when he finally takes a good look at the lady. The loss must be written all over her. Still, he needs to hear it.
“I’m so sorry. She’s gone.”
She didn’t think she’d ever see a heart break in real time.
It’s not so obvious in the big picture, but it’s all in the details. The flaring of his nostrils. The loss of focus in his eyes. The caving in his chest, like the place the girl used to inhabit was surgically cut out.
“She can’t have left just like that. We didn’t…” He blinks repeatedly. “We had more time.”
She knows why the girl didn’t go see the boy before leaving. It’s the same reason the lady pushed her out the door last night. They both knew if they took a good look at the person they loved most in this world, they wouldn’t be able to do it.
