FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #2

All the trouble began when my grandfather died and my grandmother - my father's mother - came to live with us.

What was I supposed to do?  I didn’t really have a choice.  My parents had retired to Arizona, where they were busy playing golf or hosting cocktail parties or whatever it was they did, and besides, they didn’t have enough room and I’m pretty sure my grandmother wouldn’t have liked the hot weather anyway.

Carol and I were the logical choice.  True, we lived in the city and my grandmother would have to leave the suburbs, but the city was a lot closer than Arizona and a lot nicer than a nursing home (the white elephant in the room every time the family discussed what my grandmother should do, or, more precisely, what we should do with her).

I was happy that my grandmother was coming to live with us.  Sure, we would have to change our schedule and our lifestyle.  But really, as twenty-five year olds go, we weren’t particularly wild, so I didn’t think there would be any problem adjusting. 

Besides, as our friends were out barhopping, I could be content with the thought that we were doing something good.  I felt pleased with myself for stepping up and doing the right thing.  The rest of my family may not have wanted to have my grandmother come live with them (even though they would never admit that), but I felt differently.  I would be the one to discover the treasure-trove that was my grandmother’s history, lost but for my efforts.  I would learn so much by having a wise elder come live with us; I, too, would become sage, wise beyond my twenty-five years.  Everyone else would wish they had done what I had.  In retrospect, maybe sanctimonious would be a better description for how I felt. 

So then my grandmother came to live with us.  I had imagined all of us sitting around the kitchen table, her regaling us with stories of her youth.

First though, my grandmother needed help getting dressed.  And getting food.  And doing most other basic tasks.  I kept my enthusiasm up though.  I had known my grandmother would need help with these things; that was why she was coming to live with us, after all.  Okay, maybe she seemed a little crabby.  She wasn’t telling us wonderful stories about the wild days of her youth.  But she was probably just adjusting to living somewhere new.  After all, she had lived in the house with my grandfather for over forty years.

Carol worked farther away than I did, so she usually left before me in the morning.  So I was the one who helped my grandmother to get dressed before I left for work. 

“Jack, I have a question for you,” she began one morning.

“Shoot.”

 “Aren’t you going to ask Carol to marry you?  She’s such a sweet girl.”

I hated questions like this.  “Sure, eventually, I guess.”

“Or are you eventually going to get tired of her and go find someone else?  Since she’s giving it away for free after all.  That’s what happens to girls like that.”

“Grandma!  Of course not!”

“Well, I just don’t see why you don’t marry her then.  The Bible says that living in sin is wrong, you know.”

I sighed.

Okay, so maybe having my grandmother live with us would be a little more difficult than I had thought.  But I had only thought about the good parts.  It was natural that everything wouldn’t be perfect or exciting.

It turned out that, besides finding my morals dubious, my grandmother didn’t think much of my career as a copywriter at an advertising agency, either.  She was happy to remind me, both in front of Carol and in private, that Carol made more money than I did.  “And what are you doing with your life, anyway?  Are you really happy working there?  Don’t you want to do something…different?  Why don’t you go to law school or something like that?  Lawyers make a lot of money.”

Assuring her that I liked my job and I didn’t want to go to law school didn’t seem to make any difference.

At dinner I would try to get her to tell us some interesting stories.  “So Grandma, you have to tell Carol that story you always told the kids about when you were little and your parents owned the restaurant…”

“Carol, dear,” she began.  Yes!  This is what I had been waiting for.  “Carol, dear, have you thought about maybe going on a diet?  Maybe it’s just that dress, dear.  Or my eyes.  They’re not what they used to be, you know.” 

Carol smiled calmly.  She wasn’t going to involved herself in any arguments.   That was smart.  Arguing with my grandmother was like arguing with a brick wall.  She wasn’t about to change any of her opinions anytime soon.

I tried.  Really, I did.  I wanted to be happy with my grandmother living with us.  I wanted everyone to get along.  I tried to humor her.  

But I couldn’t take it any longer.  Like I said, I really did try.  I was just getting sick of everything.  I felt horrible about it.  She was my grandmother.  She was my family.  She needed my help.  I was supposed to love her and do whatever she needed.  I wasn’t supposed to begrudge her anything. 

 But if I was totally honest, I didn’t want to get up in the middle of the night to get her something to eat.  I didn’t care what she had just seen on TV.  I didn’t care what her friend Frances had told her when she called that morning.  And I certainly didn’t want to be told that I was living in sin or that my girlfriend was fat or that my career was at a dead end.

You can call me a monster if you want.  Or callous, or heartless, or cruel, or any other suitable synonyms.  I felt horrible.  Really, truly horrible.  The phrase “racked with guilt” described me well.  I felt so guilty; I was a failure as a grandson and family member and all-around human.

I complained to my mother on the telephone.  She tried pacifying me by explaining that my grandmother was old, that she had been raised during a different era, and that she was opinionated.  I knew that was all true, but it didn’t make me any happier about it.

Carol just brushed it off.  “She’s old, you know, and I don’t think she’s going to change anytime soon.  So just don’t listen to it.”

But how could I not?  What I didn’t understand was how Carol and my mother could just ignore it.  The fact that I couldn’t ignore it gave me yet another reason to feel guilty, but once again I couldn’t help myself.

“Why are you so depressed?” my grandmother asked me.  “You always were a mopey child.”

And then Carol got offered a job in New York.  This would have been big enough even without my grandmother living with us.  Should she take the job?  I would have to find a new job, we would have to move, and would we be able to afford it?  And now, how would my grandmother feel about moving?

I dreaded telling her.  How would she react?  Carol finally did it, one night at dinner.  We waited to see how my grandmother would react.

“Oh, how nice, dear,” she finally said, rather absentmindedly. 

“Do you remember last month, when I went to that conference in Washington?  Well, I met lots of people, lots of people from different museums.  Well, one of the directors, we talked a lot, and I guess he must have liked me, because he called me the other day, and we talked, and he asked me if I would like to come work at the museum in New York.”  Carol stopped for breath.

“Oh, well that’s flattering.”

“Yes.”

“But that would mean you would have to move.”

"Yes."

“But…why would you want to move to New York?” 

“It’s a better job than she has now,” I jumped in.  “It’s a really good job.  Actually, it’s a great job.  A dream job.”

Carol smiled hopefully.

“Oh.  Well, Jack, look at Carol, and look how well she is doing.  Why aren’t you getting promotions or good job offers like that?”

That silenced me.

“So you’re thinking about taking the job?” my grandmother asked Carol.

“We still have to discuss it, obviously, but I think maybe…I think yes, I’d like to.”

And that silenced my grandmother, for the moment, at least.

We talked it over for the next week or so.  I think Carol’s mind was made up.  She wanted to take the job and move to New York.  And that was fine with me.  A change of scenery suited me fine, and I knew this was what Carol wanted.

I worried though about how my grandmother would react.  We told her one night at dinner.  Well, Carol told her actually.  As usual I feared what would happen. 

“But dear,” she said to Carol, “Why would you want to move to New York?’

Carol answered calmly - very calmly: “This is really incredible for my career.  I might never have another chance like this.  And besides, New York will be nice.  It will be a change.”

“Yes, I guess, but it’s…it’s so dangerous.  And it’s busy and crowded and loud and dirty.  And I hear it’s expensive.”

“Well, yes, but I’m sure there are nice parts too!”  Carol chuckled.

“Hmph.”

My grandmother was strangely silent about the impending move over the next few days.  For my grandmother, this was very strange indeed.  I was waiting for the explosion.

The first spark came a few days later, once again at dinner.  My grandmother began tremulously.  “I was thinking…”   Oh no.  This was it.  “I was thinking that maybe I should move back home.  I don’t want to be a burden to you when you move to New York.”

I sighed.  If my grandmother could live alone at home, wouldn’t she have been doing that all along?  She had conveniently forgotten that point.  “We don’t want you to do that, Grandma.  We want you to come with us.”

“Of course!” Carol chimed in. 

She told me the same thing again the next night.  “I was talking to your mother today, and I think that maybe I should go back home.  I don’t want to be trouble to you.”  She started to weep, quietly and loudly all at the same time. She produced a tissue from somewhere that she used to dab at her eyes. 

I hated this.  She said that she just wanted everyone to be happy. 

Carol tried to comfort her too and assured her that she was wanted.  She finally stopped crying. 

I didn’t know what to do.  What was I supposed to do besides assure her that we wanted her with us?  But it seemed that no amount of pleading was convincing her.

A few mornings later she announced to me that she had been talking to my mother again.  “I talked to your mother and I decided that I just can’t go to New York with you.”

“What? Grandma!”

“I know you said you don’t mind…”

“Grandma, it’s not just that we don’t mind, but we want you to come!”

“I know, I know, but I’m old.  I don’t want to be going somewhere new.  I like it here.”

“Okay…”

“Anyway, I talked to your mother, and then I talked to your cousin Anna and her husband John, and I’m going to move in with them.”  Her words smacked with finality.

“What?!” This was sudden.

“We discussed it and I think it’ll be best for everyone.”

“What?!”

“Well, I feel bad, but it’ll be a little hard for Anna, since you know both she and John work a lot and they have the two kids.  But we figured we can get an assistant or nurse or someone like that to come in and help out.”

I was still speechless.  “Don’t you think that’s kind of …I don’t know, sudden?”

“Well, I guess, but you and Carol are going to be moving soon.”

“But Grandma, I don’t understand why don’t want to come with us!  Aren’t you happy here?”

“Well yes, but you have to understand Jack, I don’t want to move.  I’m old.  I like it here.  New York is too big of a change for me.  You and Carol, you’re young and I guess moving is good for you.  But not for me.  But you two need to have your own lives and do what you need to.” 

“Okay.”

“And I think that Anna and John seem happy to have me come live with them.  And I can spend time with the kids.  That will be nice.”

I felt perversely offended.  True, living with my grandmother could be trying at times, but I felt like she had rejected me for my cousins.  And I felt guilty.  Something felt vaguely wrong about all this, and I suspected it was something I had done wrong.  That guilt again.

Carol was pragmatic, as always.  “Maybe it’s for the best.  She’s right; she probably wouldn’t be happy in New York.”

“Yeah, I guess.  But that’s not the point.”

My attempts at trying to convince her to change her mind didn’t work.  I still felt guilty.

And then we were busy with packing up and preparing to move.  I was making an attempt to look for a job in New York.  We were helping my cousins to get everything ready for my grandmother to move in with them.  All this distracted me at least a little bit.

When we moved to New York, it was strange at first not having my grandmother living with us.  I still felt bad about the way everything had happened. But I have to admit, and yes, I feel guilty for thinking this, but it was also sort of a relief that it was just the two of us again. 

After not too much searching, I found a job.  It was what I wanted and I was happy about it.  Carol was happy – very happy – about her new job.  A few months later we decided to get married.  We got a dog.  And we saw my grandmother when we went back home for Christmas.  She seemed happy.

back to Contest #2