Page 2 of Anchored

Toby: Can’t do it. Got a murder case I’m working on.

I roll my eyes. He’s always got some uber important case he’s working on.

Mom: You know I’d go, but I have three interns shadowing me on that glioblastoma surgery tomorrow.

At this rate, I’ll give myself a headache with all the eye rolls. Of course Mom’s busy. She’s the most sought-after neurosurgeon in North Carolina. Dad, the head lawyer at the firm, doesn’t even bother answering my text. Instead, the ass-kisser of the family takes care of it.

Toby: Dad’s in a meeting right now and he’s the head lawyer for the murder case. No way we can spare him. Can’t you go, Mapes?

I hate the way he’s always shortened my name. I also hate the way my ultra successful, type A family makes me feel like a loser in comparison. I’m a college dropout, talking to dogs about their feelings, while my family is singlehandedly saving the world.

Toby: Hey, while you’re here. We need someone part-time to comb through some records before a court hearing. Want the job?

I huff out my frustration to my empty condo. No matter how many times I describe my job to them, they refuse to acknowledge that it’s a valid career. Sure, it’s unconventional, but I make good money! A curt reply is the best I’ve got right now.

Me: No. I’m going to see Grandma Gracie.

Thing is, though, I’d love to go see Grandma Gracie. I haven’t seen her in far too long. As the only person in my family who’s ever understood me, or encouraged me to chase my alternative career, she holds a special place in my heart. I just haven’t made time to see her because then I’d have to explain that my ex-fiancé and I broke up. She was so happy when I visited two years ago and showed her my lab-grown engagement ring. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to dash her excitement.

But desperate times call for family to show up.

And since the rest of my family is too busy, it falls on my shoulders.

I don’t bother texting back my timeline for visiting her. They just assume I’ll fall in line like I always do.Tell Maple to jump and she’ll ask how high.On that depressing note, I dial Grandma’s direct line to her independent-living condominium within Sunny Shores. She answers after the fourth ring, her voice thinner and weaker than normal.

“Hello?”

“Grandma Gracie? It’s Maple.”

“Oh, darling!” Grandma must have the phone pressed to her chin, which means her voice is now muffled and barely audible.

“Hold the phone in front of your mouth, Grandma,” I say loudly, even though she’s never been hard of hearing.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Now her voice is booming. I have to hold the phone away from my head or risk eardrum damage. “I’m so glad you called, Maple, darling. You know I fell down last night? It was so silly. I was trying to find that dang chocolate bar I hid from myself. Caught my slipper on the edge of the rug in front of the kitchen sink and down I went!”

“I did hear about that. Doctor Ahmed called me.”

“He’s such a dear. Not as nice as Doctor Johnson, but still good. He told me that I better start making my final arrangements!”

My jaw drops. “What? No, I didn’t get that impression at all. He did say he wanted me to come visit you though.”

Grandma’s voice is muffled again. She must have dropped the phone to her chin again. “At my age, you just never know, darling. I mit bo at nee dim.”

“Grandma. Put the phone to your mouth, please.”

“Maple, darling?” Her voice is a thousand decibels again. “Did you hear I fell last night?”

I’m rubbing my forehead so hard I’m sure it’s bright red. This call has solidified things in my brain. “Yes, Grandma. I heard. I’m coming to see you tomorrow!”

“You are? Oh, good. You can stay with me at the cabin like you always did over the summers. Won’t that be fun? We can cook s’mores and jump in the lake like we used to. You can stay all summer!”

I nod slowly, the realization of the dementia diagnosis finally sinking in. She hasn’t lived at her cabin for five years. Not since she moved into Sunny Shores. She never sold the cabin, insisting any of us could use it for vacations, but no one in this family would think about taking time off work. I go on vacations, but haven’t lately. Not since Dexter and I broke up. I’ve buried myself in work and adding to the tattoo on my back when I feel rebellious.

“Okay, Grandma. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“You bet, darling! I’ll go get some groceries and get the blowup mattress ready for you!” She pauses, her voice low and even when she comes back on the line. “I’ve missed you so much, Maple of mine.”

It’s the nickname that gets me. She used to call me that all the time growing up. Every summer I’d go stay with her in Anchor Lake and those fleeting months of fireflies and canoeing and crackling bonfires were the highlight of my year. When I think back on the best parts of my childhood, I fall right back into that place. Into her.

---