We were driving to the city. I was deep in thought, thinking about Maya. They found a lesion on her brain. I cannot believe I am writing those words. How is that possible? How can that be? More tests and then a biopsy to determine if it’s benign or—I’m not going to write that ugly word. I talked to her yesterday, finally. When I heard her voice, it felt like the clouds parting. I apologized for being so needy and acting like an ass. And of course, Maya being Maya said, “You’re weren’t, Elise. You’re fine. I was being withholding. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t want to worry anyone and so I didn’t tell you. You didn’t need more stress in your life. I didn’t even tell Stu. I shouldn’t have waited but I had a feeling that once I looked into what was going on with me, it would be a game changer, and I really didn’t want the game to change.”
Somewhat surprisingly, instead of not knowing what to say or stumbling for the right words, I knew exactly what I wanted to tell her. I wanted her to know how much I love and respect her. How our walks get me through the day. How our talks fuel me. How I will be with her throughout whatever happens. How she’s the strongest and smartest person I know. How I’ll distract her with good gossip and walk the rescue dogs. And how I’m planning to lose my divorce virginity. And I got her to laugh. And then I heard Stu in the background, and he was laughing too.
We spent the rest of the drive listening to music. It didn’t matter that Marsden had stopped talking. I just wanted to be in the car with him. I thought about staying on Route 95 and driving us to Florida instead of New York. As we crossed from Connecticut to New York, I watched the exits peel off, knowing that too soon our exit would be up next. I celebrated each exit we passed that wasn’t ours—the exits that fed off to smaller highways and roads that went through towns where people who weren’t us lived and worked and sent their kids to school. Where people fought and cheated on each other. Where people celebrated birthdays and anniversaries, got bored and drunk, went to basketball games, sometimes littered, and let their toenails grow too long. Where people laughed until they cried and choked on their food, overdosed, and hugged. Every exit we passed made me happy that we weren’t those people, because if we were those people, it would mean the end of the car ride.
We hit traffic in the Bronx, but it didn’t hold onto us long enough. I drove past the sign announcing that our exit was coming up in two miles. I had two miles to decide. Should I skip it and keep driving?
We found a parking space quickly—too quickly—just a block from Mom’s building. Alan wasn’t working. He must have taken Thanksgiving weekend off. I rang the doorbell, but Mom didn’t hear it, so I used my key to let us in.
“Bitch!” Mom was yelling at someone.
“Mom?” I called out. “Is everything okay? I’m back. Marsden is here too.” I wanted to make sure she remembered he was coming.
“Hi Grandma!” Marsden called out in his deep baritone of a voice that I will never get used to.
The volume on the TV must have been set to a thousand. Mom was holding the clicker like a lance and stabbing it toward the TV.
“Mom!” I said loudly.
“Elise, you scared me. I didn’t hear you come in. I’m watching Mommy Dearest.” I yanked the clicker out of her hand and turned off the TV.
“I’m here with Marsden.”
“Marsden is in the city?” She sounded joyful.
“He is. Remember, our little road trip starts tomorrow.”
“My grandson is here?” She practically jumped out of bed. “Marsden, my phantom grandson. The child who never calls his grandmother. What am I, already dead to you?”
“Sorry Grandma Trudy,” Marsden said. “I’ve been busy.”
“That’s bullshit. Your mother keeps you away from me. Come here and give me a hug.”
Marsden bent over and enveloped his grandmother in an uncompromising hug. He went all in.