Conversation with Nana

From our kitchen window I watch my best friend Tommy waiting for the school bus. I know it is wrong, but seeing his mouth grin wider than his face and doubling over, probably from a stupid joke Clayton told him, makes me angry. I should be there laughing, but the moment I spy Billy Krudd, the class bully, my feet refuse to move.

My stomach churns like candy pop rocks exploding inside, while my vision blurs from involuntary tears pooling around my eyelashes. Mornings like this, nana would drive me to school, but those days are over. She was my strength, my knight draped in a flower-patterned dress, tall, beautiful, and strong. Her knowing look and smile got me through many turmoil’s. She understood when I came home in tears. Where dad would get frustrated and tell me to face a bully, nana guided me with words of comfort. Always there when I needed her the most.

A soft familiar voice rings out. “What’s troubling you Hooty?”

She lovingly called me that because when I was really young, instead of speaking I would hoot like an owl.

Turning around I see her, standing by the kitchen sink. She smiles and wipes her hand on her favorite apron, just like the last time I saw her.

Shrugging my shoulders I automatically look down and mumble. “Noth’n.”

”Nothing?” She doesn’t approve of poor grammar. She smiles anyway and patiently waits for my reply. I glance towards my friends now stepping into the school bus.

“Ah. You wish I could drive you, don’t you?”

My chest feels like it could literally explode, as I slowly nod my head and whisper. “Yes.”

Gliding over to the kitchen table with the grace of an angel, she sits and pats the chair next to her. “Oh, Hooty. It makes me sad knowing my days of driving you are over.”

Being this close, I want to hold her hand or crawl upon her lap and melt into her shoulders like I used too. But that is no longer possible, I tried once, it felt like falling into a bowl of whip cream. Knowing I can never do that again is the worse part of losing her.

A gentle autumn rain begins to fall, like it does every first week of school. We stare outside, watching a mist coat the window and listen to the soft tapping sound of droplets touching the clear glass, trying to enter our cozy home. I notice a strange sight as a ray of light penetrates the rain clouds and covers her in a halo of gold.

Closing my eyes, I imagine the chaotic and nervous laughter filling the yellow bus. The squeak of the wipers as they brush back and forth. Angela Wheeler‘s blonde hair flowing across her beautiful face as she smiles and shares secrets with her best friend Becky. The bus driver yelling for everyone to sit down as they jump about changing seats, talking about their summer. I should be part of that conversation.

I should be on that bus.

This was the year I promised nana I would go on my own. I dare a glance and see that knowing look in her eyes.

“Do you think the teachers will notice me not being there today?” I ask.

”I suspect they will.”

“It’s only the first day, maybe they will be too busy.”

”They will know.”

”Tommy didn’t know, and he’s my best friend.”

“I believe he still considers you a friend.”

“Then why didn’t he come to summer camp with me?”

“You know very well why he couldn’t go.” She states.

The week leading up to camp I was nervous about leaving my family and being alone. Tommy would have made it better. Nana talked me into going, now I realize she had her reasons, yet I can tell she is debating if that was the best choice. The day of camp I felt something was different, not wrong just strange. I told nana this. She smiled, hugged me, and told me it was nerves, yet she was the one shaking. Then she said goodbye.

We never say goodbye, it's always ‘see you soon.’

“I really thought it would help you. I remember the thrill of summer camp when I was young. I wanted you to make friends and have the same great experiences.”

“I did make friends. I still talk to one of them.”

“Oh, who?” She looks confused, then again, I noticed her forgetting things lately. Mom said for me not to worry, nana was fine.

“Dillon, we bunked in the same cabin. Also, there is a new kid we just met, he cries a lot. But they aren’t like Tommy or Clayton. They’re nice, but different.”

“Sometimes people grow apart, and situations change. You should always try to make new friends. It is hard at first, but you need to move on.”

“Tommy doesn’t even care that I don‘t hang out with him no more. Clayton’s his best friend now.”

Nana remains silent, so I push on with more self pity.

“They didn’t notice I wasn’t at the bus today.”

Her eyes become stern, still loving, but stern. “Tommy came to this house everyday for the rest of the summer. As far as today goes, remember I drove you to school more times than you took the bus.”

”But still….”

”No buts. Hooty, children’s minds are different, they live in the moment. When he finally notices you aren’t in school, he will remember.”

That last line lingers. I know she is right. Nana always is.

I don't want to talk about Dillon or school anymore, so I tell her. “Mom was sad this morning, she smiles but I know she isn’t happy. Dad went to work without saying a word to anyone.”

Nana nods. “They need time to grieve. Your Mother will adjust. It took me a while to recover when I suffered a similar loss. I was around her age as well. You never really get over it.”

We sit in silence. These are my best memories, just her and I together. We didn’t need words, just each other. Suddenly I see her eyes go distant like she is searching for something lost.

In an ethereal voice she dreamingly says. “I would love a cup of tea.”

Impulsively a smile forms upon my face. I recall the times she and I would sit on a rainy day, staring outside. Nana would share stories of when she was a child. Sometimes she would pour me a small cup of tea, adding milk and honey. I wasn’t allowed to try coffee, but tea seemed to fall into a grey area.

By habit I find myself rising ready to grab the tea pot, then stop. Knowing I will never share a moment like that with her again. I can tell she realizes it as well.

To cheer her up I say. “I’m not afraid of Billy Krudd.”

I almost convince myself, then wonder why we always refer to a bully with their first and last name.

“I always believed in you Hooty.” Her words are soft and gentle.

The rain pours harder, and the house gives an involuntary shudder as the wind picks up. A steady beat upon the roof echoes in the empty home. I suddenly feel a loss like never before, an understanding that wasn't there a moment ago. This is the third time I have seen her, yet like that day before camp something doesn't feel right.

“I miss you Nana”

Her eyes glisten with tiny pools, like they do every time I see her. Such a sadness that as a child it is impossible to understand.

Suddenly the fading begins, I watch as she tries to speak, yet once again when it is time to say goodbye words fail. I don’t wish her to feel guilty it wasn’t her fault. She wanted to do something nice and thought sending me to camp would help me grow and get away from the bullies. How was she to know that all I needed was her to feel safe.

Shrugging my shoulders I say. “I wish that Dillon and I wouldn’t have snuck out and taken the canoe that night.”

The silence is heavy, as I watch her shake.

“When we flipped over I wasn’t worried or scared, honest.”

I need her to know it wasn’t her fault. The water was cold, and it was so dark we couldn't see the shore. Dillon wasn’t a good swimmer, I tried to help him, but he was bigger than me. I don’t remember much as we sank, except it was peaceful.

"There was no pain Nana."

That black stuff women put on their eyes begins running down her cheeks, like those watercolor paints in art class.

Her lip quivers as she finally speaks. “I miss you so much. I am sorry, so sorry. If I hadn’t insisted you go to camp… ”

I watch her collapse upon the chair, hands covering her face. I cannot help her. I cannot hug her. I can only fade away, hoping to see her again, praying this is ‘see you soon’ and not goodbye.

Thank you,

Jason