• • • • •
I’m wheeling her down the sidewalk, telling her the plan, and she knows something is up, but I don’t think she knows what. I tell her it’s the Fourth of July parade, but she doesn’t seem to register that.
We’ll watch the parade, and then I’ll promptly bring her back to the nursing home, and neither Susan nor my dad will be any the wiser. I won’t even take Grandma to the town barbecue. I just want her to experience something other than her cave.
After ten minutes of pushing her, she tries to stand as I’m rolling the wheelchair. “No, Grandma. Stay seated.”
She pushes my hands away.
“Grandma, sit.” I hold my hand on her shoulder as I continue to push her.
The parade is already in progress when we get there. I find a place and park the wheelchair so that she can see without anyone standing in front of her.
I must admit that the parade is kind of lame. I mean, it’s a small town, so there’s one small marching band and some people riding in cars. And some horses (it is Montana, after all).
But I’m happy because people are cheering and shaking those small American flags, and there’s just a lot of excitement. I’m also pleased that I brought Grandma.
I spot Jennifer Bennett across the street. She is writing in a small notepad and occasionally looking up. I figure she is reporting on the parade for the Whitehall Courier.
I’m mesmerized, watching her methodically write and look up and write. Actually, I’m just mesmerized by her. She seems to work harder than any other teenager at our school. And she isn’t into playing sports or cheerleading. Not that I’m against those things, but I’d have more in common with a reporter than a volleyball player.
Mission Probably Improbable: Step one—talk to her.
My phone buzzes, and it breaks the spell. Happy Fourth of July! I miss you, Charlie. I’m almost home. And then we can start our summer adventures!
I smile. I snuck my grandma out. We’re at the parade. Don’t tell your mom!
Putting the phone away, I turn to the wheelchair, and my grandma’s gone. What? Where did she go? How did I not notice her leave?
I quickly scan the area. She couldn’t have gone far, but I don’t see her anywhere.
I take hold of the wheelchair, stare intently both ways, and then choose left. I doubt she headed toward the nursing home, the way we just came.
It’s hard trying to maneuver an empty wheelchair around people who not only barely budge out of your way, but also throw annoyed glances at you, because who pushes an empty wheelchair at a parade?
Charlie Dickens does.
People I know say hi or ask what I’m doing, but I just keep looking for Grandma. I could get into a ton of trouble if I don’t find her.
Like, a ton of trouble. My heart skips a beat just thinking about it.
“Eloise?” I shout, but the parade is so loud that no one pays any attention, and probably least of all my grandma. I shout her name again.
I’m looking all around, and I wish Seth were here to help me.
The panic inside me is growing exponentially every second that I don’t spot her.
“Grandma!”
A large woman slurping a large soft drink turns and looks at me. “Who are you shouting for?”
“Have you seen an old woman pass by here? She’s about five feet tall. Mostly shuffles her feet.”
She shakes her head. “Sorry, kid. Let me ask Ned.” She turns to the man next to her and nudges him. “Have you seen an old lady pass by here?”
The man shakes his head and turns back to the parade.
The woman looks back to me and shrugs.
I see an older guy wearing a cowboy hat farther back from the street. “Did you see an old woman pass by here?”
He ponders for a moment and then nods. I get excited, hoping that I’m close. “I can’t say as I did,” he finally mutters.
Seriously, guy? I want to ask. Why did you nod only to say no? But instead I turn quickly and head in the other direction. I am jogging as best as I can. I feel my phone vibrate.
Shoot. I pull it out while still jogging.
My dad.
My dad never calls. Especially when on a fishing trip. Something must be up. He must know.
I am dead.
Oh god.
I put the phone back. “Eloise!” I shout.
I reach the end of the parade route and don’t see her anywhere. It’s almost like she has just disappeared. Just up and vanished like my mother. I wonder about the possibility of that. But I didn’t see any UFO or anything out of the ordinary. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the aliens work on a level where they don’t want us to see them or know of their existence. Maybe they’re hiding in plain sight?
I want to cry, I’m so upset about losing my grandma.
But then I hear people shouting and I see pointing. Someone near me says, “What’s she doing?”
I hear another person say, “She’s stopping the parade.”
My heart sinks before I even look. I follow the finger of the person pointing and see Grandma leaning into the driver’s window of a car in the middle of the parade. She shuffles down to the next car, and I see people run out after her. I dart out into the parade route and shout, “Grandma.” She is good at pretending not to hear me.
As I get closer to her, I realize that she’s asking everyone, “Where’s Harold? Have you seen Harold?”
I sigh and put my hand on her arm.
She flinches. She doesn’t even know who is touching her.
“Grandma, it’s me. Charlie. Your grandson.”
The guy who was talking to her turns to me. “She seems like a sweet lady. She yours?”
I nod. “I need to get her back to the nursing home.” I turn to her. “Grandma, sit in the wheelchair.”
She doesn’t like that my hand is still on her forearm, but she manages to look at me and say, “Where’s Harold?”
I don’t want to tell her he’s dead. All I need right now is for her to sit down so that I can get her back to the nursing home. “He’s home. Let’s go back there.” I feel like a royal jerk. Though I find solace, even if I don’t fully forgive myself, in the knowledge that I’m pretty sure she will have forgotten what I said by the time we get back. I hope so, because the way her eyes light up tells me that not only does she remember her husband of forty years, but he was the light of her life.
Now I feel even worse. I’m a terrible person who is probably going to hell.