”Hold on to my hands
I feel I'm sinking, sinking without you.”
Performed by The Cranberries
Written by Dolores Mary O'Riordan
Molly woofed, staring at the dogtreat canister that readThree Dog Nightwith a picture of three dogs holding guitars under a night sky.
“No more treats. Grams will give you more than enough when she comes down,” I told the dog as I set the oatmeal pan in the sink to soak it.
“She’s late,” Hannah said as she took a spoonful of the oatmeal barely drizzled with honey. Bland. Boring. Healthy. Ever since Grams’ heart attack shortly after the new year, Hannah had put herself and the rest of us on a strict health food diet.
In a matter of weeks, Hannah had gone from the Christmas-treat-indulging child to an oatmeal-loving grown-up. The hearty grain had become her favorite breakfast food. I thought she might eat it for every meal if I let her. I should have refused when she’d begged to be a part of the meetings with the nutritionist the hospital had recommended, because Hannah had taken everything Cassidy O’Neil had said to heart. Now, she scolded both Grams and me any time we deviated from the list of approved items stuck to the refrigerator door with a Dave Matthews Band magnet.
The clock over the mantel in the living room chimed eight o’clock, and worry flew through me. Grams was definitely late, but just like she let me sleep in on the rare occasions I could accomplish it, I usually did the same for her. I’d take Hannah over to the preschool at Stacy’s and then come back and check on her.
I put the snack we’d made for the preschool—homemade granola bars with nothing fun in them—in a Tupperware container and then placed them in Hannah’s backpack.
“You almost ready?” I asked.
Hannah nodded, took the bowl to the sink, and used the wooden step to rinse it and put it in the dishwasher. It hurt me a little that she was so grown-up when, really, she was so little. Her fifth birthday was barely weeks away, and yet, she was acting like a ten-year-old.
Molly scampered to the door with us, wagging her tail.
“No, girl. Stay. There’s too much snow on the ground,” I said.
Hannah wrapped the maroon shawl Grams had given her at Christmas around her throat like a scarf before stuffing her arms into the thick snow coat she was growing out of faster than I could blink. While I pulled on my winter wear, she put her backpack on, kissed Molly on the head, and then placed her top hat over the two braids I’d put in her hair that morning.
Hannah looked up the stairs, her eyes serious. “Can I kiss her goodbye?”
I shook my head. “Let her sleep,Chiquita. I’ll give her a kiss for you.”
We made our way down the street and over a block to my friend Stacy’s house. Hannah rang the doorbell. The house was similar to Grams’, a two-story Craftsman in a town of Craftsmans, but Stacy and her husband, Jin-Kang, had gutted and redone theirs when they first moved to Grand Orchard two years ago. Jin worked in the app world and could do his job from anywhere, and Stacy had given up her teaching job in Albany to make the move. Now, she was running a tiny preschool out of their home while she concentrated on getting approvals for a charter school.
I hadn’t known Stacy when I’d signed Hannah up for her preschool classes, but now she was the best female friend I’d ever had. We practically lived in each other’s houses. My sister was in Florida, my parents and Darren’s parents were in Delaware, and Nash and Dani were in Georgia. That was the extent of my friendships. Grams, at ninety-three, had more friends than I did.
“Well, don’t you look spiffy,” Stacy said, looking down at Hannah. Stacy’s beautiful spirals of black hair danced around her chin as she smiled at my daughter. The smile reached all the way to her brown eyes, making them sparkle.
“Thanks. I’m putting the granola bars in the kitchen,” Hannah said, pulling off her snow boots and coat before heading for the kitchen where Stacy’s six-year-old son and three-year-old daughter were at the table, finishing breakfast.
“Hey,Chiquita, aren’t you forgetting something?” I called after her.
She ran back, hugged me, and then took off again. “See you after school, Mommy.”
My heart left my body and went with her, as it always did.
When I looked at Stacy, she gave me a soft smile, knowing exactly how I felt about my girl. She felt the same about her two.
“She didn’t get to say good morning to Grams, so she may be a little off,” I told her.
“I’ll keep an eye on her mood.”
“Thanks. Have you heard anything after the presentation last night?” I asked.
Stacy and Jin had given an update on their charter school to the County Board of Education the night before. The approvals were a breath away, and the building they’d leased was set for renovations in the spring. I’d wanted to strangle some of the board members on her behalf as they’d asked her the same question twenty different ways, but Stacy had been calm and collected.
“It’s so close it almost feels real now,” she said.
