Chapter 18 recap: Charlie rushes to the emergency room after a call from Bill. Gram’s had a heart attack, but she’s stable. Unexpectedly, Charlie and Marlena come to an understanding.

“Thank goodness it’s you,” Gram said as I entered the room and closed the door behind me.  Over a week had passed since her heart attack. She was sitting up in bed and seemed almost too awake and alert to be in a bed at all. Her face looked fuller and her hair was brushed so that it was curled under at the ears the same way she wore it every day. 

“Getting sick of Marlena and Bill?” I asked as I threw my coat and bag on one of the vinyl armchairs. 

“Well,” Gram said, tilting her head and smiling a little, which made me laugh. 

“Now,” she continued more seriously. “I’m very grateful to them. They’ve been an incredible help throughout this whole ordeal. And it must be terribly stressful to be away from their business…”

“But, they’re driving you nuts.”

“They certainly know how to pick at each other.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I said and reached for my overstuffed backpack. “I hope I remembered everything you asked for.”

I pulled out the book from her nightstand, her favorite housecoat, her cosmetic bag, a ceramic teacup and saucer I’d wrapped up in some tissue paper (“I hate drinking from these dippy little Styrofoam dealies,” she’d complained) and my own stack of books in case she’d been sleeping and I’d needed to entertain myself. 

“Thank you, dear,” she said as I placed the teacup and saucer on the bedside table. “I appreciate that.” 

“No problem, Gram,” I said and transferred half a cup of tea from a disposable cup to her ceramic one. 

“So, tell me about what you’re working on at school,” she said, nodding at my stack of books. “How’s the independent study going?”

Gram cradled the teacup in her hand and smiled up at me expectantly. 

I forced a smile. All I wanted was to tell her good news that would make her happy. Or even mediocre news that wouldn’t upset her. Some bit of normal, uncomplicated information about my life that would go well with a cup of tea. Something she could smile and nod at between sips. 

“It’s…pretty good.” My voice had involuntarily gone up a full register. 

Gram tilted her head down and looked up at me over her wireframe glasses. “Well, that’s good,” she said after a moment. 

“It’s…uh…” I stammered and picked at a stray thread on the seam of my jeans. “It’s, you know... I’m not exactly where I want to be with it.”

Gram sipped her tea. “Well, you’ll get there. There are ebbs and flows in every big project.”

“Right.”

“Though I was surprised when you chose a course like that in the first place. The cooking part, anyway.” 

I looked up at her. “Yeah?”

“Well, yes. I mean, the writing part isn’t what surprised me. You’ve been scribbling away since I bought you the first of those little black notebooks when you were eight years old.” She gestured toward my pile of books. A rounded black corner peeked out from behind my massive history textbook.  

“But I certainly didn’t expect your first book to be a cookbook.” 

I opened my mouth but quickly closed it. I thought I’d successfully hidden the notebooks from Gram all these years. But, I should have known better. There wasn’t much that Gram missed. 

“What kind of book would you expect?” I asked. “From me, I mean.”

“Well, it’s hard to say since you’ve never offered me anything to read,” she teased, shaking her head. 

“But,” she continued. “I’m sure whatever you write will be smart. And thoughtful and special.” 

My eyes welled a little.  The cookbook wasn’t special. Just like everything else about the last three months, it was a mess. 

“I honestly don’t feel very smart lately,” I admitted. 

“It’s okay to feel not so smart sometimes,” said Gram. She had noticed the tears that were clouding my eyes. “It means you’re challenging yourself. If you always feel smart and good at what you are doing then you’re probably doing the same thing over and over again.” She carefully placed her cup and saucer on the bedside table.  “It’s good to take chances.”

“I’ve been taking some chances,” I said, my voice shaking. “But I don’t think they’ve been the right ones.” I looked up and searched her face. I think she might have known about Finn. Or that part of this had something to do with a guy. But, I think she also knew that what I was feeling went beyond that. 

“Like, that class and the cookbook…you’re right. It wasn’t me. I’ve been kind of lying to myself…And it backfired,” I said, shaking my head. “In a lot of ways.”

Gram nodded slowly and inhaled deeply. It was one of her mannerisms that always put me at ease.

“Well, let’s talk about how you can get back on track,” she said. “Maybe there’s even one small thing that you can do tomorrow?”

Classic, practical Gram. She had no idea how many layers there were. It wasn’t her fault. I was the guilty one. Not only had I not been there when she needed me most, but I’d been keeping her in the dark on everything important in my life. 

“I don’t know, Gram,” I said, swallowing a lump in my throat. “I might be past the point of no return.” 

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

“You know,” she said after a minute. “People commonly use that phrase, but do you know what it actually means? The point of no return?”

“Yes. I mean, I think I do.”

“It’s based on something called the radius of action, which is actually a military term.”

“Oh,” I said and cleared my throat. “I didn’t know that.”

“The radius of action is the distance that something – a ship or a plane or a tank of some kind – can safely travel and return without refueling. It’s a very calculated thing. You need to take into account a lot of different factors, and not just the ones that are immediately apparent.” 

“That makes sense.” 

“So, what do you think? Have you considered every factor? Are you really beyond your radius of action?”

It certainly felt like I was beyond something. Like I’d gone too far in one direction and was lost. Everything that had always been a constant in my life was changing too quickly – the friends I’d had forever, my home, the way people saw me and what they thought of me. 

I looked up at Gram. Just days after open-heart surgery she was sitting up with her hair curled giving me a pep talk. 

“Maybe not,” I said. “I could be just overthinking everything and freaking myself out. Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe I’m not past the…radius of action.” I didn’t quite believe myself, but I had to start somewhere.  Maybe saying the words out loud would help.

“That’s possible,” Gram said. “Or maybe not,” she added with a little laugh. 

Even Gram’s pep talks didn’t get sugarcoated 

“Sometimes that happens,” she said and took a sip of her tea. “Sometimes you find yourself past the point of no return and you’re facing a considerable risk. And sometimes the best thing is to just keep going.” 

We were both quiet for a moment. 

“Gram,” I said. “We don’t have to talk about the house right now. I know it’s a lot. But, I just want you to know that it’s going to be okay. I mean, I’m going to be okay.” 

“Of course you’ll be okay,” she said. “More than okay.” 

“And you’re going to be okay,” I said. “Better than okay.” 

“Well, I’m just delightful wherever I am,” she said, and we both laughed. 

“I am going to miss it, though,” I said. “It was the only place that ever felt like home.”

“For me too,” she said. Her eyes were watery, but she smiled.

Motion Sickness Phoebe Bridgers

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