Page 61 of Anchored

“Good morning, sunshine.”

The whisper comes right before a kiss to my forehead. I blink my eyes open to see Holt fully dressed and crouched over me awkwardly as I sleep on the floor. I didn’t even feel him getting up. The summer sun has yet to splash inside the windows of the cabin, so it must still be early.

“Leaving?” I croak.

“I’ve got an early day, but I’ll come find you after your appointment with Doctor Ahmed, okay? Everything’s going to go great.”

My eyes fly open with the reminder. Today’s the day we find out the results of Grandma Gracie’s brain scan. Holt sweeps wayward strands of hair off my face with a gentle finger.

“Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together, okay?”

The fear in my chest subsides in the warm embrace of his reassurance. I reach my arms up and wrap them around his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says into my neck. We stay that way for a full minute, each of us taking and giving comfort in equal measure. I’m not sure how this happened, but I’m so grateful I can’t put it into words. Other than Grandma, I’ve waited my whole life to find someone who makes me feel like they see me fully and actually like what they see.

Holt turns his head to kiss my neck and then he’s rising to his feet. “I’ll see you soon, moonbeam.”

“Yes, you will,” I answer on a yawn.

I hope he’ll be seeing me every day for the rest of my life. I hear the door close softly and the click of Mookie’s nails as she gets off her doggie bed and heads my way. She curls into my chest as I rub her belly.

As great as the last few weeks have been with Holt, I’m still worried about Grandma Gracie’s condition and whether Harold will ever reach out. After reading Grandma’s diary, I was so certain he’d be beating down our door to see Gracie. Each day without a call from him, I lose a little bit of hope. If anything, it makes me even more aware of the precious time I have with Holt. I don’t want us to become a story of heartbreak told in a dusty journal.

When the first hint of light comes through the windows, I extricate myself from Mookie and stand up to stretch with a few sun salutations. Once I feel limber, I get dressed and head for the kitchen for some fruit. I can’t eat much on a nervous stomach. What will we do if the scan comes back that her dementia has rapidly advanced? How long will she still remember who I am? That last thought hits me so hard I have to grab the kitchen counter and focus on deep breathing.

“Nope. Positive thoughts only. I live in the moment, and right now, Grandma is perfectly fine. Maybe a little forgetful, but otherwise just fine.”

Yes, I’m talking out loud in an empty cabin. Mookie dances around my feet, probably thinking I’m talking to her. After giving her some more love and making sure she’s fed and had a chance to do her business outside, I head for Sunny Shores in my pale pink Fiat. She’s tiny and electric and exactly what my parents would not have chosen for me. Holt’s Jeep is more practical out here, but I still love my unconventional vehicle.

I knock on Grandma’s door and put in the code to let myself in. “Grandma? It’s Maple! Are you dressed?”

She appears around the corner, already in a pair of flowing linen pants and a blouse with brightly colored parrots on it. As always, she smiles when she sees me, waving me inside. Her eyebrows look like she got ahold of the same paint football players use when they smudge black lines under their eyes before a game. I shake my head and choose to not fight that battle today. Eyebrow blindness is a real thing amongst the elderly too, but we have bigger fish to fry today.

“This damn toaster burnt my buns!” she exclaims as soon as I join her in the kitchen.

It’s true. Two once-fluffy rolls are smoking in the toaster, black as her eyebrows. I grab a paper towel and pluck them both out, tossing them into her sink to keep from starting a fire.

“You’ve got the little dial here turned up all the way.” I point to the dial and then twist it back halfway like she likes her toast.

“I bet Nancy did that. She loves her toast charcoaly,” Grandma grouses.

I don’t know why Nancy would be using Grandma’s toaster when she has her own just a few yards away, but I keep that to myself.

“Let me make you some toast. Doctor Ahmed should be here shortly.”

Grandma has a seat at the small kitchenette table and sips her coffee while keeping up a steady stream of chatter about what’s going on at Sunny Shores. The gossip is downright scary, let me tell you. These old people have too much time on their hands.

She’s just finishing her perfectly toasted buns when a knock sounds on the door. I get up to let the doctor in and we all get settled at the table. He spends a few minutes chatting with Grandma, which I think shows excellent bedside manner, but then gets down to business, which I also appreciate. My nerves can’t take it much longer.

“Your scans are in, Gracie, and they look good,” he booms. I let out a silent breath of relief. “Only showed a hint of damage to one very small area. Clinically, this would put you at the very first stage of dementia.”

“So, we’re not out of the woods,” I clarify.

“We’re at the goddamn lake, Maple. No woods anywhere to be found.” Grandma’s eyes are sparkling with humor.

I give her a deadpan look and she motions that she’s zipping her lips. God, I love this quirky, fun-loving woman.

Doctor Ahmed doesn’t miss a beat. “This means we have several options for treatment, all of which come with high efficacy. I’d like to discuss some of those options today and get started immediately. We’ll monitor closely for side effects and mental acuity to make sure we’re on the right path.”

---