Grandma has a petite cottage on the edge of town, dwarfed by the other giant mansions that are on Main Street. Tiny sculptures adorn her front yard. It used to be my favorite place in the whole wide world, but when I was a kid, my mom lost touch with Grandma, telling her she was crazy and she should get help.
Despite that we were in the same town, and although she was two minutes walk from my school. I didn't get anywhere near her house. I knew Mom would be pissed.
I planted my fist on the door, planning to knock. I hesitated only for a second. Maybe she was crazy, like my parents always said she was. I discouraged the thought away, she wouldn't be dangerous. She's an eighty-year-old woman.
I did. I knocked twice, waiting for an answer. I heard the unlatching of the lock and then the door opening to reveal her.
She looked older than the last time I saw her. Her hair had gone from gray to white and was still frizzy and wild. She had the same chain necklace for her glasses. That way she narrowed her eyes when she tried to see something.
"Grandma," I mumbled. I pondering if this is an actually good idea, because I am feeling insane. And me being here is making me insane if I wasn't already.
She has a confused daze about her, and then she beams. "Rachel! Come here. I expected you!"
I cock an eyebrow, wondering if she has schizophrenia or dementia because I definitely didn't plan on coming here.
Either way, I should come in.
Right?
Magazines clattered on the floor of the entry mat. I make quick work of putting them on the table next to the kitchen before Grandma sees me. I'm following her.
The house is warm and has that air of messy creativeness that always drove me closer. Grandma's an artist in her own right. She knits, draws, sculpts, and even wrote some books.
She is humming some tune, looking at me with such delight, as if I'm still that seven-year-old that's sitting in her living room drawing Pixies while she makes me hot chocolate.
I'm trying to meet her eyes, making sure she's listening to me. "Listen, Grandma, do you remember all that stuff you said to Mom?"
She's half turned to me half. She snorts, "Sure."
I bite my bottom lip wondering if this is going to set her off. She turns completely, seeing my expression. "Oh, come on, help your grandma with the mug."
I take it I do what she says and take the mug from her hand, drinking a sip of warm liquid that soothed the ache in my chest. I think over Jackson and what happened last night. I thought I tried to touch his hand, but maybe he wasn't completely there.
Maybe he was on the other side.
She gave me a salty smile the kind that left a odd taste your mouth. "I'm so happy to see you after all this time even if your mom isn't here to join."
I left out a growl, finally finding the courage to say something. "You used to talk about the people. You were saying that they weren't quite here; they were somewhere else."
She nodded, appraising her own mug with the light, taking a long sip. "Yeah, the other side of our family has a long history with the dead. Your mother never quite acknowledged how important the role the woman in our family took in the balance of things."
I scowled, not understanding.
She put down the mug, taking my hand. Her eyes scanned my body in the phrasal. She raised an suspicious eyebrow. "You're 19 now, right?"
I slowly nodded.
She made the humming sound, letting go of my hand and nipping at her chin in thought. "The women in our family usually get the gift at puberty, but some are late bloomers."
Shrugged as if the conversation wasn't about the ability to see freaking-
Nope, I'm not saying the fucking word, not yet.
She peered up at me up with me, clearly seeing the freak-out it is.
"Oh, honey." She rested her hand at my cheek, but I was not feeling it. I suddenly had this alarming feeling that something was wrong with Grandma.
Because I could not feel her hand on my cheek.
I flinched away from her standing up. "Why can't I feel your hand?"
"Sweetie." So gently soft she was that it send shivers down my spine, "the reason I know that you've been staring to see the other side is because I'm already there."
I raced down to her bedroom, seeing her resting body on the bed. She was sleeping silently as if nothing bothered her. I walked towards her very carefully, testing her pulse. It was not there.
I slap a hand on my mouth trying to muffle the sob breaking from my throat.