Page 107 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

They sat in a stunned silence for a moment, and Mom said, “Honey, you’re twenty-eight years old. I’m sure Grandma will understand if you put your life savings toward a home, a family, a wedding.”

The realization struck me that two of those things were not in my cards anymore. But I’d decided my course of action at twenty and had been staying the course for eight years. No way would I let my grandma down now, in her moment of need.

“This is what I want to do,” I said. “But I’d rather not tell Grandma that I’m the one paying for it. I don’t want her to feel guilty or try and talk me out of it. We all know she’s so persuasive she’d win.”

Dad chuckled, but it was a sad sound. He put his arms around me and held me close. “I love your heart,” he said. “Sometimes I wish you would care a little more about yourself. It’s good that you have Tyler now. That boy thinks you hung the moon and all the stars.”

Mom gave me a small smile. “I noticed he has a picture of you on a horse as his phone wallpaper. It’s adorable.”

Each word was another twist of the knife in my heart.

About to break down, I said, “I’m going to sit with Grandma.”

I walked back to her room, and when I saw her in the bed, her chest rising and falling with the oxygen cannulas in her nose, I covered my mouth to hold back a sob. She’d made it through surgery. I knew this was only the beginning of her recovery, but she’d made it through the first step.

I went and sat by her bed, just thinking. Looking out the window. Wondering what was next for me. Hoping that if I kept my job, Janessa would somehow get fired or leave. And then I felt a hand on my hand.

I looked up, seeing Grandma looking back at me. “Hi, sweetheart,” she rasped.

I got up and hugged her gently. “Grandma, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I am,” she said tiredly, resting her head back on the pillow.

“Do you need anything?” I asked. “I can ask a nurse to bring more pain meds?”

“I’m a little hungry,” she rasped out.

I pressed the call button and asked for some food and a new drink for grandma, and we sat for a couple hours, not talking much as the anesthesia wore off and she became more coherent.

Mom came in and told us she was getting supper and then left. When I glanced back at my grandma, I saw tears streaming down her cheeks.

My heart stalled. “Grandma? Are you hurting? I can ask for more medicine.”

“It’s not that... It’s just, I’ve enjoyed living with your family more than you’ll ever know. The idea of moving to a place I’ve never been and being away from you all…” She put her fist to her lips, tears sliding down her creviced cheeks.

“Grandma?”

She looked my way.

My voice was shaky as I said, “That’s not going to happen. There’s a Medicare program that will pay for a home health aide. You can stay with us.”

Her lips parted. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” I said, crying with her. “You can come home.”

Her smile was wide, and she cried happy tears. “Give me a hug, baby girl. That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

I hugged her tight, hanging on for dear life. “I love you, Grandma.”

She smiled at me as I sat back down and said, “Me too. But I want to hear about you. How was your time in Texas?”

“It was amazing,” I answered honestly. “If my whole life wasn’t here, I’d move there in a second and stare at the prairie all day long.”

Grandma laughed. “My little hen wants to live on a farm.”

I smiled.

“Maybe you and Tyler will move to Texas together one day,” she said, so much hope in her eyes.

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