Dancing Hours (40 page)

The next visit was from the husband and wife who owned the coffee shop, followed by some ladies from church and
so many people from town.  The house was busy all day, but they were all very careful not to stay too long.  My local friends texted me, I suppose seeing my Nan like that was a little too heavy for them.  I didn’t blame them.  She was my grandmother and I didn’t want to watch her die.

By the evening, she had stopped drinking water.  The nurse said that usually people didn’t last too long after that.  She was right.  Nan took a small last breath and her light went out before dark that night.  She never was one to dilly dally.  I suppose she knew she’d said her goodbyes.

I spent so much time crying that day.  I cried almost from the moment I walked in the door in short jags.  When Nan passed, my mother – who had been brave and stoic up until then – collapsed into my father and bawled for hours.  It scared me.  I h
ad never seen her cry like that and I couldn’t
do anything to comfort her.

My father was a rock and he made all of the arrangements for the memorial service so that my mother wouldn’t have to.  I got a call from my school guidance counselor the
morning of the memorial.  She told me that my absences were adding up quickly and I might not be able to take exams if I didn’t return soon. 
So much for sympathy.
 

The service was lovely.  The church was filled with people – mourners.  The reverend, who had known Nan for years as a volunteer talked about the “unstoppable Nessa.”  When she found something she cared deeply about, she fought for it until she got her way.  Most of the town was there; I think everything was shut down for the service.  Our mayor came to
visit,
people of other faiths came to pay their last respects.  “Mourning” didn’t seem like a big enough word for what I felt, but as I sat there doing it I thought about how well loved my Nan was.  She had built a long and beautiful life here, the very thing I was rejecting to go see the world. 
Except I hadn’t done that yet.
  I had gone to see one other city, but not the world.

After the service, we had people over to our house.  I think every woman in town baked something for us.  We didn’t have enough counter or freezer space and for some reason that made me cry.
  David came to the memorial and
Holly
brought Jessica over to the house afterward.  She had gotten so big.  Had I really been gone that long?  She was a real little person and her questions were a lot more complicated than just “Why?” now.
  She was using the computer and had email.

My mother went to bed early and I talked to my father for a long time that night.  He always seemed to know what to say and that night was no different.  He put my life in perspective and pointed out that Nan wanted me to have and follow my own dreams, not to do what she might want for me blindly.  He threw in a side note that he didn’t know why Nan thought David was so special, anyway and I figured there might be some overprotective dad-
ness
in the remark.

I called my guidance counselor the next morning and we worked out some plans to get me back on track.  By the end of the call, I was excited, but I knew I needed a few more days to clear my head. 
  A few days turned into a few weeks.  It was easy to be home.  My room looked the same. 
Kate
came over when she could.  We laughed about all the times Nan caught us pretending to be princesses and volunteered to be the evil witch or the prince.  My parents never asked when I was going back.  I even worked a few shifts at the Under Ground. 
It was busy there and left me little time to think. 
I was comfortable, except for the part where I avoided David.  I didn’t know what to say to him.  I didn’t know what we were and I was so busy reminiscing with everyone that I didn’t want to figure it out.

He seemed to understand and for a
while
after the service I didn’t see him – at least not intentionally.  I saw him and Holly having a
pretty intense conversation at Mama
Gianna’s
over a plate of pasta one night. 
Mama
Gianna
knew us well.  We ate there at least once a week.  That night I was picking up takeout.   Standing at the register waiting for my food, I scanned the restaurant and saw several familiar faces.  In the corner were David and Holly, so engrossed in their conversation they didn’t see me although I was just far enough away not to be able to make out what they were saying.  Their body language was impossible to read.  I wanted to go over there.  I wanted to touch him, hug him, something.  Instead, I paid and left.

I didn’t sleep much that night and I barely touched my dinner. 
In the middle of the night, when it’s dark and you should be sleeping, things sort of take on a life of their own.
  I realized I’d been having an ongoing memorial for Nan by talking about her every day.  I had to keep living.  The expression “Nan would want that” fl
oated though my thoughts, but
I had to admit that
I
wanted it – that I needed it.  I fell asleep just before dawn and woke up feeling better.  I did think of Nan first thing, but it didn’t make me as sad as the day before.  Mom was gone, but Dad was there.  What little cooking was done at our house was his doing and he had some attempt at French toast going.  I walked quietly into the doorway of the kitchen and watched him.  When he noticed me he laughed at himself and the mess he had made. 

“That’s okay, Dad.  I don’t like French toast much anyway, so it won’t make a difference.  Where’s mom?”

“She had to go see a lawyer about your Nan’s will.  I guess there are some formalities that need to be taken care of.”

I pondered that thought, surprised that Nan had thought far enough ahead to have a will.  Living in the moment was her thing.

I decided to take the Jeep back to college instead of flying.  I needed a car in L.A.
anyway,
bumming rides was getting pretty old.  My parents protested that it wasn’t safe for a girl to drive across the country alone.  My dad offered to drive behind me if I didn’t want anyone in the car with me, but I refused.  This was something I wanted to do for myself.

Before I left, I met David for lunch
at the mall.  For some reason he didn’t want to eat at the food court, so we went to a restaurant across the street.  He didn’t really have much to say about me driving by myself.  In fact, he was pretty quiet that whole lunch so I tried to lighten the mood.  “You know you’re going to miss me.” I joked.

He smiled and tried to go along with the levity.  “No way, you are totally going to miss me more.”

This was more like the David I enjoyed hanging out with. I felt guilty for having a good time and laughing with him, like I was somehow betraying my Nan by not wallowing in the sadness forever.  It was one of the reasons I found myself so anxious to be on the open road and back at school.  No one there would know that I was supposed to be mourning, that I wasn’t allowed to laugh and have fun.  No one there would judge me for going back to my regularly scheduled life.

There in the restaurant, David didn’t judge me.  And we finally talked about Holly and her plans.  David had made Holly prove to him that she could be a good mother to Jessica and Holly agreed.  She had talked to a lawyer and she knew she had the right to take Jessica any time, but she was grateful to David for being there for her daughter.  He didn’t have to do that.  But during the last few weeks Holly had been visiting during a school break and had taken care of Jessica more and more until David finally canceled Jessica’s after-school program so she could spend more time with Holly.  “I think she can do it now.  And she feels guilty about leaving, so I have a feeling she’ll spend the rest of her life trying to make it up to Jessica and that’s okay with me.”

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

“I have no idea.  My grandmother’s pretty pissed about this whole thing.  In spite of Holly’s assurances that she’ll visit with Jessica, grandma isn’t convinced.  So I almost hate to leave too.  I’d be leaving her alone again.”

“But you can’t live your life taking care of other people.”

“I know.  I’ve done that too much.”

“You’ve got to do what you want to do.  What do you want to do?”

David thought about it for a minute,
then
laughed.  “I want to go with you.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

I sat there a little stunned.  He was looking at me quite earnestly and, although I could have laughed it off and pretended he was joking, I knew that he meant it.  He was in love with me.  I knew it, but
i
t
scared me.
I
also
knew that being with him was as comfortable as anything I’d ever known.  And I had it on pretty good authority that he was a nice guy.  There was some sort of disconnect between my brain and my mouth.  I was still thinking about the many horrible things that could happen between us
:
the fights
,
the
disagreements. 
What if I find out I don’t really like him?
  What came out of my mouth was “When is Holly going home with Jessica?”

He raised an eyebrow and answered cautiously “Friday”

“Okay, we’ll leave Saturday.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”
 
No.  What am I saying?  This could end really, really badly.

He got out of the booth, pulled me out of my side and kissed me.  I momentarily forgot my aversion to public displays of affection and we got carried away for a few moments until the waitress interrupted us with the check.  Several people were staring.

“Are you really sure?” he asked, still holding my face.

“Yes.”  This time I was sure. 

3

The lawyer said Nan had left us some money. 
A lot of money.
  Half had been earning interest in an out of state bank for 50 years and the other half had been invested in various stocks, bonds and whatnot for the same amount of time.  She had not forgotten anyone.  The church got a donation. The senior center had enough to buy new computers and remodel the room where Nan taught dance. 
Nan was a smart investor. 
My parents could retire.  Heck, I could retire.
She even left some money for David.  He put half of it away for Jessica.

David told me about Holly’s “scholarship” on the first day of our drive
West
.  I was worried that something would happen to interrupt her school and I called my mom right away.  She seemed amused that Nan had told David about it.  She said that her mother had left “Dear Josephine” notes all over the place about different people she should call and projects she had going on.  Nan had stuck her nose in a lot of different people’s lives, but none so personally as Holly and Jessica.  My mom had already called Dorothy, who was sad to hear the news of
Nessa’s
passing and told my mother not to worry, that Holly’s scholarship would be continued.

With that worry resolved, we were terribly and wonderfully free.  We went hiking in the Appalachian
mountains
.  We drove along Route 66.  We didn’t take the most direct route, but we did have a lot of fun.  Eventually, I even let David tell me that he loved me and
instead of making a face, I said it right back – because it was true.  I started out thinking that I wanted to know the hot guy on the motorcycle, but in the end I really wanted to know the hot nice guy driving the sensible gray sedan.