In His Bed (18+)

Chapter 63

Walking into my grandparents' house was like stepping into a tomb.

After the reception wrapped up, after we said our goodbyes to Grandpa Robert, we drove Grandpa Curtis home.

There, as the door closed behind me, the silent air of the shadowed living room hung heavy over all of us.

Grandpa shrugged out of his suit jacket, draping it across the back of his armchair, face haggard, drained as he looked around the empty space.

"Well, do you want to stay for dinner? The freezer's full of casseroles and god knows what else - I'll never eat it all by myself."

Mom glanced my way, uncertainty in her eyes, "Uh, sure. Actually, let's get the stuff out of the car first - we've got a ton of leftovers from the reception." Setting her purse down on the couch, she asked, "Are you sure you want to heat something up? You could leave the casseroles frozen until later."

"Eh," he waved off her suggestion, "If I even look at another one of those sandwiches right now, I'll be sick."

"Okay, well, Hailey and I are going to unload the car. Why don't you get changed? I know how much you hate wearing a suit."

He groaned, turning to walk down the hallway, "You can say that again."

I watched him hobble down the carpeted stretch, seemingly aging by the second.

Turning, I followed my mother.

Out in the driveway, I waited as she opened the trunk, taking out the box of photos from the funeral, "Mom-"

She looked up, apologetic, "I know, believe me, I just don't want to leave him alone right now."

"What?" I shook my head, "No, it's not that-"

"Oh?"

"It's just that, well, after everything I'm feeling really worn out, and I was kind of hoping to get some sleep?"

Standing under the grey, afternoon sky, I felt like I could sleep for days. Maybe even weeks, or months, if I was being honest.

"Oh, well, why don't you lay down in the spare room?"

Glancing back at the house, I asked, "You sure?"

Mom nodded, "Go ahead - I'll wake you up when dinner's ready."

My eyes opened to the faded, floral wallpaper of the basement bedroom-turned-storage area. The day bed I was laying upon had been shoved over time into the corner, crowded in by haphazardly labeled boxes, stacks of home goods bought in bulk, and one plastic-sheeted, fake Christmas tree.

Underneath the mess, I recognized the familiar shape of my old bedroom.

It hadn't been that for many years now – Mom always said that, as much as she loved her parents, she had a hard time living with them.

I couldn't say that I blamed her.

Still, once upon a time, back in the first few years of my life, Mom and I had lived here. We'd moved out when Mom had gotten her first decently paying job, then moved back in on occasion, whenever circumstances and bad luck left us needing a place to stay.

Curtains covered the window well, and on the wallpaper around the window frame, I saw the faint, fading remnants of marker stains.

A smile crept onto my face, thinking of the secret drawings I'd tried to hide, remembering Grandma's frustration when she found them and made me wash them off.