The Right Kind of Wrong (8 page)

What happened to my grandparents' house? This is not how I left it. A tiny woman with white hair sits in a rocking chair. Her lips fold into a grin at the sight of us. Grandma. I park the car and inhale slowly.

"Are we getting out or what?" Vince asks.

"Yeah. I just..." I don't know how to continue. "I just need a minute." I open the door and breathe in the mixture of fresh air and hydrangea.
 

I look at my grandmother, her fine white hair tousled by the breeze, her wooden cane grasped tightly in her hands.
 

"Well, are you two going to stand there all day or are you gonna come in and make yourselves at home?" Her raspy voice beacons from the front porch. Her grin sets my heart on fire.
 

God, I've missed this woman.
 

"Hello to you, too, Grandma. We'll be there in a minute."

I lean to Vince and whisper, "She's going to think we're together because according to her, I should have found a man to marry by now. Just pretend you don't hear her. Now, help me unload this shit."
 

Vince’s smile tightens and he pulls the bags from the car, handing the light things to me. We carry everything to the porch. Closer to the front door, the sweet scent of apples and cinnamon entices us and I look up at the window to see two Dutch Apple pies cooling in the sun. Perfect.
 

I set down my bag, and pull Grandma into a hug. She snakes her hands around my back and grasps me tightly. The apples and cinnamon linger on her apron. "Hi, Grandma."

She puts me away from her and studies me. "Hi, sweetie." Her eyes glisten and for a minute, I think I might explode in a waterfall of tears. But I don't. If I start now, I won't stop the entire time I'm here. She looks at Vince.

"Ah. You must be the gentleman assisting Kara on this project." My grandmother's words come out clipped and cold.
 

"Yes, ma'am."

She looks at me and nods. "At least he has the decency to use his manners." Looking at Vince again, she points. "I know all about you, young man. I don't want any shenanigans while you're under my roof. You hear?"

Vince shakes his head. His expression is half surprise, half amusement. "Yes, ma'am. No shenanigans from me."

"Good. Now get on in the house and unpack your things. Dinner will be waiting when you're done."
 

I guide Vince toward the steep staircase that slices through the front of the living room.
 

The upstairs has four large doors, the old heavy kind with bronze doorknobs. I step in front of Vince and open the first one so he can look inside. A rush of dust escapes. Once my eyes adjust, I see my four-poster bed positioned in the middle of the room. A mahogany armoire takes up the right side and a chair sits to the left. Just as I left it.
 

"This was my father's room when he was little and then it was my room when I moved in. This is where you'll be staying." I help him with his camera equipment and blow the cobwebs off the dresser. I turn to him apologetically. "Uh, I'll clean up a little in here after I give you the grand tour. I don't think any one's been up here since I left. Grandma can't climb these stairs anymore."

I close the door and move to the next one. The bathroom is my favorite room in the house. An ivory and gold claw foot tub sits in the middle of the bathroom, sheer fabric scrunched in a bundle on the rod. The back wall is one large window that overlooks my grandparents land and Grandpa always said the skylight was a direct line to the heavens. I spent a lot of time lowering myself into scalding water looking up at the stars.

"Whoa. This is like, getting naked with nature." Vince says.

"Except nature doesn't give a shit how you look in the nude. It's actually pretty liberating. But don’t take my word for it, you'll see for yourself."

I wink at him before opening the next door. Another set of stairs that jut toward the sky. "This goes to the attic."
 

I reach for the knob on the last door and push it open. My grandfather's scent hits me so hard I step backward. I'm not sure Vince even notices. "And another bedroom. This was my grandparents' when they could actually get up here. I'm staying in this one."
 

"You sure you don't want your old room?"
 

I glance around my grandparents' room. "No, I want to stay here."

"Okay."
 

"Grandma said dinner is ready when we are, so clean up or whatever and come downstairs when you're ready."

"Kara?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming back even though you didn't really want to. We need this footage."
 

My guilt sits on my shoulders like a hundred pound sandbag but I nod. "I needed to come back sooner or later."

Inside my grandparents' bedroom, I dare to look around. It's exactly as I remember it when Grandma and Grandpa slept side by side in here. I trace a line in the layer of dust on the dresser. The jewelry box, perfume bottle and antique hairbrush sit in the exact spot they did when I was little. I'd beg Grandma to let me try on her pearls. Of course, she'd oblige, gently tugging the earrings through the holes in my ears and clasping the strand of pearls around my neck.
 

I pick up an ornate glass bottle. My grandmother's exotic perfume has completely evaporated from it. I twist the cap open, and an overwhelming scent of lavender and vanilla swirls past my nose, intoxicating me with memories.
 

The day I left for California, I packed up my car with a suitcase, a couple boxes of books and my dreams. I said one last goodbye to my grandparents'. Grandma had a hard time letting me go, and the smell of her perfume, this exact one, stayed on my clothes for weeks afterwards.
 

After Grandpa died, I dug through every inch of my closet to find the shirt I wore the day I left. I wanted to see if it still smelled like him. I never found it though.
 

My eyelids droop from exhaustion and I lie down on the bed. The springs creak in protest. It's not the most comfortable bed, but it'll do. I close my eyes.
 

"Kara?"

"Yeah?" I say without bringing my head off the pillows.
 

"You okay in there?"

I groan but get up and open the door. Vince stands on the other side, a worried expression on his face.

"I'm fine."

"Your grandmother has been yelling for you for like ten minutes. I went downstairs to ask if she needed anything and she told me to march right back up here and see why you weren't answering her."
 

I grin. That sounds exactly like Grandma.

"Yeah, I'm coming." I close the door behind me.

 
When I reach the kitchen, my grandmother is taking out a roast. I lick my lips. I don't get this kind of cooking in California. I'm more of a ramen noodles and macaroni and cheese kind of cook.

Grandma wipes the perspiration from her forehead. "It's hotter than hades in this damn kitchen."

"Grandma, why don't you sit down and talk with Vince. I'll bring everything over?" I see right through her thinly veiled smile. She's in pain and sadness creeps into my heart.
 

I noticed the same things about Grandpa before I left for college. I ignored it then, willed it away with my heart. I didn't want to deal with losing him, so I pushed it out of my mind—until the day I got the call that he was gone. I will not make that same mistake twice.

"Has Parker been out of state, Grandma? It looks like he hasn't mowed in a few weeks. And tell him to fix the shutters; they're hanging on by a thread. He could also paint if he's feeling ambitious."
 

My grandmother looks down into her lap. Parker is Grandma's youngest brother. The only other sibling left.
 

After Grandpa died, I talked with Parker at length about whether or not Grandma would be fine in the house alone. He wanted her to move in with him, but I just couldn't do that to her. It would have killed her to leave. Parker agreed to come over on a weekly basis and do some of the hard chores she couldn't do anymore, like mowing and shoveling.
 

"Dear, Parker has been at the retirement center for a couple months now. He fell and broke both of his hips. He still can't walk." Grandma’s voice is calm and even.

I look at her incredulously. "Why didn't you tell me? Does Dad know?"
 

"I didn't want you to worry. You've got enough to worry about in California, and I didn't want you to come back and try to fix things. I'm fine. I'm a grown woman. I can do almost everything on my own. And yes, your father knows." The edge in her voice doesn't mask the underlying fear. She didn't call because she's afraid I'll make her go to the retirement home, too.
 

"Oh, Grandma. Things are not fine. Have you seen the outside of the house? It's falling apart. The grass is overgrown, and you can barely get around in this house. It doesn't surprise me Dad hasn't come over. I learned a long time ago not to depend on him." The coldness I try to keep from my voice wiggles its way in anyway.
 

Grandma looks bewildered and humiliated. I broke her don't-air-your-dirty-laundry-in-public rule. "Kara Mae. I'm fine, dammit. And there's no need to talk about these things at the dinner table in front of our guest."

I roll my eyes because it doesn't matter what I say now, she'll put on a fake smile and wave everything away. "Fine. But we're talking about this later."

Grandma directs her attention to Vince. "Don't think you're getting out of the hot seat either, young man. I'd advise you to start turning on the charm soon, otherwise I might be inclined to give you dirty looks the rest of your stay for messing up my granddaughter's future. Now, where are you from?"

"I grew up on the outskirts of Las Vegas."

"I didn't know that," I say as I set dinner on the table and slide into my chair.
 

Vince smiles at me. "It's not really that exciting."

Grandma raises her eyebrows and throws Vince a "Humph," in response. "Vegas is not the place to raise a child."
 

"Grandma, that was rude. Maybe Vince thinks raising a child in the middle of nowhere Iowa is not a place to raise a child."

Before I know what's happening, my Grandma stretches her arm and whops me on the head. "Listen, young lady. You may be on your own, but that's no way to talk to your grandmother."

Heat rises to my cheeks and I avoid Vince's eyes. I mumble a "yes, ma'am," under my breath.
 

Grandma changes the subject. "Now, before I was interrupted, you were telling me about where you lived. What do your parents do?"
 

Vince clears his throat and looks at his plate before answering. His voice is shaky. "They passed away a year and a half ago ma'am. They owned a camera supply store."

A year and half ago we were in Jenkins' class together!

Oh, shit.

Vince meets my eyes and the truth slams into me like a head-on collision. I set my fork down and drop my head. This admission has everything to do with why things went wrong. He had bigger things to worry about than a stupid college project. Or me.
 

Now, I'm the one who’s an asshole.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

I excuse myself from the table. "Just leave the dishes Grandma, I'll come down and do them later." I walk to my grandparents' bedroom and close the door, wanting to shut out the world for a while. I sit on the bed and my mind spins in circles. I try to reconcile what happened in Jenkins' class with what Vince just told us.
 

I catch a glimpse of something sitting on the floor in the closet and pull it out. It's one of my grandparents' old photo albums. I smile and I dust it off. I remember going through every single picture and asking my grandpa who was who.
 

I open it to the front page and the past comes alive. I trace over a picture of my grandfather sitting on a big tractor in a field. His wavy gray hair shines in the sunlight and his mouth is open in mid-laugh. I never could describe why my grandfather was so handsome to me but looking at this picture, I'm not sure I've ever seen such a happy man. I think that was the key. His happiness made him look like an older James Dean.

I barely hear the knock on my door and Vince opens it and pokes his head in. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

He sits on the edge of the bed and looks at me. "Whatcha doing?"

I turn the album toward him. "Looking at these. Check out these outfits."

He flips through a few pages and then points to a picture of a woman with boxy glasses holding a giant cigarette. "Holy shit. Look at that cigarette. It's bigger than a camping lighter. These are crazy."

I laugh because I hadn't even noticed the abnormally large cigarette. "That's my Great Aunt Wendy. One guess how she died?"

"Couldn't have been lung cancer could it?"

"Ding, ding! We have a winner."

"You're horrible. Think about what your sweet Aunt Wendy would say right now."

I shrug. "According to Grandpa, she wouldn't say anything. Had to have her voice box removed. That puppy was soaked in tar."
 

Vince looks at me with a funny expression. "Kara Pierce, I do believe that was a joke. When did you get funny?"
 

I slug him in the arm. "Since always. You were just so concerned with dropping the ball on projects you never got a chance to find out." I bite my lip the minute my head catches up with my mouth. This is the kind of statement that only works with the old version of Vince. He drops his eyes and rubs a spot of the comforter with his thumb.
 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He looks at me and I don't know how it's possible for his eyes to get any bluer—but they do. "Jesus, Kara. I was fucked up. Like, seriously screwed up. I should have talked to Professor Jenkins or a counselor or something but I didn't want to leave you hanging. My buddy Jason gave me the number of a guy who writes essays for people. So, I just paid this guy to do it. Gave him the notes, figured he would do a better job than I ever could anyway."