I would complain that she was way too difficult, and she would respond, “And yet you keep showing up.”
Gradually, without either of us speaking on it, our dynamic shifted.
She began insisting I stick around to eat. Her meals were awful, but she pretended to be hurt if I mentioned it.
One time she cooked a beef dish so horribly dry that I chugged three cups of water just to swallow my bites.
“This is terrible,” I confessed to her.
She aimed her utensil at my face. “Then starve to death.”
We viewed trivia shows together on some nights. She screamed at the players as if they were actually in the room.
She shared stories of her past, and I began sharing details I normally kept hidden from everyone: about my youth in the system, figuring out how to avoid getting close to folks, and never looking ahead of my upcoming lease bill since depending on more always felt risky.
One evening, she turned off the television volume and stared at me intensely.
“You only focus on making it to the following week, Lucas. Do you not hold any big hopes?”
I gave a shrug. “I suppose I would enjoy staying at the restaurant. Maybe get a better position.”
“Well, I suppose that counts as a start,” she answered.
During the colder months, she handed me some green yarn socks so hideous I had no clue if I should say thanks or feel insulted.
“I knitted these for you,” she grumbled, pushing them against my shirt. “Just so your toes do not turn to ice.”
Over at the restaurant, Bo spotted me rushing out the door right when my hours ended and began giving me a hard time.
“Did you manage to find a lady friend?” he questioned one day.
“I am assisting Mrs. Higgins.”
He almost smashed a glass jug from chuckling so hard. “That stubborn old lady? Assisting her doing what exactly?”
I explained our entire deal to him.
When I finished, he gave a nod and replied, “Wow. That is insanely strange. But she actually favors you. That means something.”
I gave a shrug as if it did not matter, yet I pondered on his words all afternoon. I never knew what a real family felt like, but I pictured it being quite similar to the bond I shared with Mrs. Higgins.
Then the terrible morning arrived when I discovered her.
I had been looking after her for slightly more than twelve months. I unlocked the door with my backup key since she ignored my knocking. The television was running. Her hot drink rested frozen next to her sofa.
And she was just resting there, completely still.
I understood… I sensed it deep inside, but I shouted her name regardless. I pressed my fingers to her skin and jerked away fast since she was freezing.
I dialed the nearby clinic, then I collapsed to the floor right next to her seat and sobbed louder than I had sobbed in my entire adult life.
The burial flew by like a terrible nightmare. I waited near the rear and felt as though I had zero right to be mourning as heavily as I was.
