Tea With Grandma (Fiction)

 1.

The only bad part about living in the basement at my mom's house is that I can hear the phone ring upstairs. I don’t bother running to get it since it’s never been for me anyway since I graduated college. You don’t figure into anyone’s plans once you’re on your own, and every phone call for the rest of your life after that is only about work, which I also don’t have to worry about right now.

I hear my mom answer. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I can hear by her voice that she’s talking to grandma. She always gets happier when it’s grandma. I don’t know why. No offense to grandma, but that old folk’s home she lives in is so depressing for me I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s all that comes to mind whenever I think of grandma.

After a while, mom’s voice drops a bit. This call got important all of a sudden. Maybe grandma’s dying. It doesn’t help that my mom starts calling down the stairs for me to come up and talk to grandma. Oh god, I don’t need this stress.

Mom’s seems weird when she hands the phone over to me. She doesn’t seem sad, which is even more unsettling for some reason. I thought I caught a smirk after she handed me the phone, which is just as nerve wracking.

“Hal!” she squawks excitedly on the other line. “How you doing, snot?!” She hasn’t called me that since before I graduated high school, the last time I visited her. I always wanted to tell her to quit, but I figured I’d let her ride it out. It’s harmless anyway. I don’t care.

“I’m okay, grandma.” I always hate updating people about my life. Living in your mom’s basement doesn’t give much to report. Which isn’t my problem, it just makes conversation stupid.

“I’m sure you are,” she said, with what sounded like a pity laugh. “Listen, I’ve got a favor I need from you. I’ll make it worth your while, and I know you’ll do it, cause us McKenna’s got to stick together.”

I hear the same tone in her voice whenever she says our last names, like she gets some satisfaction out of emphasizing it – McKenna – which she loves using on me.

 “I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen you” she goes on, not waiting for me to answer anything, “I’ll pay you 100 bucks to come visit me. That way you can’t back out. Haha!” She has an old high register cackle. Since my dad left before I was born mom went back to her maiden name, which is why I’m Hal McKenna. “Your mom knows all about, and she’s all on board. I got a real mission for you, Hal. I know you don’t got a job anyway, so you got time to kill!” I hear her still giggling to herself as she hangs up.

I don’t mind being a McKenna and missing my dad. Ogen would have been a weird last name anyway.

2.

Now I’m at the old folks home, the last place on Earth I ever want to be. Every one of them is always exactly the same, too. Taupe top half on top of beige bottom half wallpaper, muted colors with nothing to share, like a permanent dusk sunset on a toxic planet with no life, covered in fart clouds. Old folks homes never feel like they’re attached to planet Earth.

I spend the whole time here not thinking of the obvious, which is how I obviously assume the old people who live here spend their whole time thinking about not thinking about too. I try to distract myself by thinking about how “taupe” and “beige” are gross words for gross colors, and how stupid people just complain about gross words, like which word is more gross than the other one. I'd say taupe and beige are at least accurate gross noises for gross colors, and also that “turgid” is a 1000 times grosser word than “moist,” for my money.

I find my grandma's room, and knock. “Come on in, Hal!” she yells, ending with a laugh. “Have I got a deal for you. Sit down. You're going to hate this one, it'll be a lot of fun.”

I'm on the couch and I can already feel myself getting exhausted and annoyed. She hands me some tea, which I at least know is going to be good, since she loads it up with honey every time. Enough to almost crush the tea flavor. I drink and ask that stupid easy question, “How are you, grandma?”

“I'm great, because I'm going to get right to the point.” She looks me right in the eye, which she always does to everyone, it's so annoying. “Hal, I need your help.”

Automatic pointless answer, “Sure, what can I do?” for some pointless chore, no doubt.

“I need you to get me some mushrooms.”

It feels like the birds stopped chirping. The sun almost slams on its brakes breaking through her living room window. Wut.

“What?”

“You heard what I said, and you know what I said, don't you Hal?”

“I...yeah, I mean, I know what you mean...I think.”

“Certainly not the kind that I can buy at a fucking grocery store, I'll tell you that! Haha!” That laugh, every goddamn time. “You do know what I mean. Good!”

Horrific mental flashes of the hidden microphone bugs in my grandma's apartment, cops trying to catch us. What? Why would this be a set up? Who would hire my grandma? Are you seriously thinking this? No, this is a joke? No, I mean, maybe? She is nuts. But not a cop. So either she's picking on you, or actually wants mushrooms. Being a narc with the cops would be the least likely most impossible scenario somehow.

“If my eyes worked any better I bet I could see the steam shooting out of your ears right now,” with a giggle before taking a sip of her tea. I also have tea?

“Ah!” I yell, from almost spilling my saucer and then almost spilling it again in the over-correction. Jesus.

She smiles, but doesn't laugh, because now she knows that I know she needs something out of me, so she's trying to hold it in. And not doing very well at that. Which is annoying.

“What, why, ffffffaahhh...why do you need me to get you mushrooms?” You can't swear at your grandma, right? I mean, if you could, this would probably be an acceptable time.

Smiling again just cause she almost caught me swearing, but shaking her head. “You wouldn't...you wouldn't know why.”

I crunch my eyebrows together. “Is that why you were going to pay me $100 to come visit you?”

A flourish of fingers and a right hand, ending up with an index pointing at me. “Ha! See? You are smart. I knew you were the man for the job.”

“I can't – I won't! I, ih, it...” close eyes, deep breath, open “I can't get you mushrooms, grandma. I'm not going to.”

“You know you can, you're just not going to, is that what you meant?”

“Fine, yes. I would know how to do it, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do it. I won't.”

A normal smile, which seems genuine for once. “That's good. I was worried I could just roll you over into doing it. I'm glad to see you refusing.”

Genuinely confused. “What?”

“I like seeing you stand up for yourself, it makes me happy.” No shitty laugh, just strong eye contact while sipping her tea.

With a different tone, strange to hear from her, “Now, since I pleasantly can't bully you into doing my bidding, I would like to try to explain to you why I need you to get these mushrooms for me. It's important, and you deserve to know.”

3.

She's been looking down at her tea cup. Neither of us has said anything. This is the longest I've heard her in silence.

She looks up with a little smile, waving her left hand in space over her shoulder, vaguely in the direction of the hallway.

“It's an awful place here, isn't it?” she says.

I look down.

“You can be honest.”

“Yeah,” I said, looking up. “It's awful. I hate the color of your hallway.”

“Ha! Me too! It's the worst. You should see the crap landscape paintings they have strewn all over the place. Like they think we forgot what sunsets are supposed to look like. Like they can fool us.” Looking out into the hallway with a sneer. “It makes it even worse.” Turning back to me, “But we're not that dumb.”

I think I just smiled. Did I just smile? I don't know, I think I'm still too scared to think straight. Why am I scared? She's not going to hurt me. Oh yeah, the controlled substance felony.

“Why do you need...?” I trail off.

“I know, I'm sorry Hal, I'm getting there. Here's the situation.” Putting down her tea cup, elbows out, hands on her legs. Business.

“Every Tuesday, we go on a mall walk. We go to that big strip mall on 42nd, and they just corral us on a big walking circle.” Waving one of her hands. “We hit the food court and the designer store, and that high end stupid fashion shop, and right past the electronics craphole, whatever and everything, we make the whole circuit. And Hal, let me tell you, I hate it. I hate it more than anything I've ever done in my life. They take us right past all these places where we can't buy anything, like we're supposed to look at all the lives other people can have, while at the same time other people are gawking at us about how old we are, and how lucky we are to be walking, and 'isn't that nice? they let them out for the day' bullshit. A zoo on a zoo on a zoo.”

She pauses and looks out the window. It just occurs to me that I've never heard my grandma annoyed at something before. I'm still nervous and scared, but I feel like I shouldn't stop concentrating on her. This feels important.

“We're going again soon, and god be damned I cannot do it this time, Hal. I'm just going to scream if I have to take another step in that place. I didn't like getting dragged out around inside those places when I was a kid, and I sure hate it even more now. I'm old enough to be left alone to enjoy my own company for once.” Grandma smile is back. “I've always been my own biggest fan anyway. I didn't like being babysat even when I was a baby, much less now.”

I offer up some kind of conjunction. “Sooo...”

“So!” Slapping her leg. “That's where you come in. I'm sick of going, so I decided to come up with something else to do with my time, and this seems like just the thing. Since I'll still be stuck at home, this seems like it'll be the easiest way to travel, haha! I just need to seem sick enough that they'll leave me behind for the day – being how old of a fart I am and how these things will make me feel before they kick in, it won't be that hard to come off as convincing, haha!” All her sounds are back again.

“I'm sick of watching old folks walk around like drunk octopuses,” she chortles, “I'm want to meet some real octopi for once, and have a nice conversation!” Off giggling into the kitchen.

4.

Now I'm walking to Terry's house, thinking about everything my grandma said. I don't know why I have to do this stupid chore. It's freaky. I don't know why my grandma has to do something stupid like this, and guilt me into it. I can't even just stay home and be left alone.

I get to Terry's house, and ring the doorbell. He answers the door.

“Hey Terry.”

Smiles, “Fuck you.” He knows that I know he prefers Terrence, because he says it's an innocent name, so no one would suspect he's a drug dealer. I refuse to play along.

“Can I come in?”

“Say it.”

Heavy sigh. “I would like to buy drugs from you.”

Big smile. “Nothing better than forcing you to be direct, Hal. Get inside, goofball.”

Terry's house is always warm and clean. I don't know how he does it, and I'm certainly not going to ask. I don't care.

“Stop standing in my doorway with your shoes on like you're not a guest in my house. Come relax.”

“I'm just here to...get stuff.”

“As we established, but come sit down like a human being, you goober.”

I take my shoes off and walk in and sit on the couch. I put my hands in my lap in a prayer-style entwined fingers. Why? God I can't relax.

Terry yells from the kitchen, “Want some tea or something?”

“No thanks, I already had some today.”

Perplexed voice, “Where have you already had tea today?”

Why am I suddenly panicking when I answer this? “I saw my grandma today.”

“Oh yeah? That's nice of you, to go visit her like that.”

“What?”

“What 'what'? I'm glad you're visiting your grandma Lucy. Say hi for me, she's great.”

“I didn't think you'd remember her.”

“High school wasn't that long ago, Hal.” Coming in with hot chocolate.

“...Thanks.”

“So...” sitting on the other couch opposite me. “...what can I do for you?”

Deep breath. “I came here for...” Why am I waving my hands instead of finishing the sentence?

Terry now with a stupid smile. “Drugs, yes, we established that, but I'm going to assume not weed like usual, since you've never been this nervous asking for that all these times.”

“No, I mean...yeah, you're right.” Each word with one paused mouth shape. “I...need...mushrooms. Not need! I would...” breath through nose “I would like to buy some mushrooms from you.”

Raised eyebrows, open eyes. “Really?! Well, that's great Hal. I'm very proud of you getting outside your comfort zone like this.”

I blurt. “They're not for me!”

Why does he need to know that?!

Arched eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Buying them for a lady friend?”

“...Yyyes.”

“Hal, you're buying them for your grandmother. I'm not dumb. It's okay.”

I've forgotten how to blink with my face. Does everyone know about this? How many people know about this?

“Wh...how did you know?”

“It's not hard to guess. To be polite about it Hal, you don't have much of a social circle. I know I don't need you to buy me any mushrooms, and wild guess that your mom doesn't either, since you've obviously known her all this time and the request has never come up. So eliminating variables, that just leaves your newly-visited matriarch of the McKenna clan.”

“My...my mom doesn't know about this, does she?”

“Ha! How should I know, man? I assume not, dude. We're just chatting about getting mushrooms to your kick-ass grandmother, as she requested. Did she tell you she told your mom?”

“No.”

“Then don't assume so. No one involved in any part of this is out to get you, man. Try to relax and enjoy the whole experience. Obviously I'd suggest not telling your mom unless you already know she's in on it.”

Looking down at my cup, again. “...Right. Speaking of...” looking up “...this stuff is really illegal, right?”

“Yeah Hal, it is.” Taking a sip of hot chocolate. “Are you planning to run into any cops at the old folks home?”

“No.”

“Then you should be fine, man. You should also know, there was a study at Johns Hopkins about cancer trauma and end of life therapy, and this stuff is great for that.”

“My grandma isn't dying!”

“I didn't say she was, Hal. But if I remember your grandma, she's not one to fuck around, so she probably knows she's closer to the end, and she probably knows that this stuff will help her with whatever she's going through. And I also happen to think that it's a good thing you're doing here, Hal, to help her through that. Pretty heroic of you.”

Eyes rolled. “Thank you, drug dealer.”

He snorts. “Ha! Fine, fuck me. Wait here, I'll get you a bag. Make sure you say hi to your grandma for me when you see her. She's good people.”

5.

The next morning, I'm back at the old folks' home. Terry wanted me to stay longer last night, but I told him I had to get up early to get these to my grandma. Which was true, but he still seemed disappointed for some reason.

I walked down the terribly color-shaded hallway again, and get to my grandma's room, knocking on the door.

“Is that you Hal?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, come on in. I'm happy to see you again. Sit down.”

“Do you want your...stuff bag?”

“Yes, thank you. Let me put the kettle on and get ready.”

“You're going to take them now?!” Far more break in my voice than someone at my age should have.

“Relax Hal, not right now while you're here. But it is Tuesday, so probably after you leave.”

“Okay, sure.” Why am I breathing like this? “Was there anything else? Here's your change.”

“You can keep that, and sit down, you shake machine. You have to stay. You can't leave me alone with an open heater on the stove.” Now affecting a stupid Halloween movie voice at me. “You wouldn't want me to hurt myself, left unattended.”

Trapped again. I sit on the same couch as before.

Coming in from the kitchen. “I just wanted to talk to you. See how things are going. How's Terry?” Sitting on the opposite couch again, like that's somehow an offhand and harmless question.

I splutter, “How-How do you know about him?”

Grandma laugh back again. “I figured that's who you'd go to. I remember him. I never told you, but years ago, after you two had graduated high school, he saw me baking in the kitchen. He was so curious and polite about the whole process, it took me a minute before I realized he was asking me so much about ingredient replacements for making cookies – about cooking temperatures for different oils and all that – that he thought he was being slick and getting advice on making weed brownies. I laughed so hard once I clicked in on what he was digging for. He's a smart friend of yours, Hal. You stick with him.”

“But he's a criminal.”

A grandma eyebrow, which I know by now is just a setup to get me to say something to make her laugh. “Is he a real criminal, Hal? Or is he just a drug dealer?”

Annoyed breath out my nose, not going to take that bait. “Well,” I said, “you'll be happy to know that he says hello. He guessed who...that bag was for. I didn't even tell him.”

“Well, that's nice of him. And I appreciate you not blowing the lid off this whole operation, and being such a reliable bag man. I knew I could count on you.”

“Yeah, sure.” I say, offhandedly.

“No Hal, I mean it.” Looking me in the eyes again. Why can't I stand it when anyone does that to me? Even just my grandma.

“I think about you a lot,” she says. “You know and I know it's just the three of us, you and your mom and I. And your mom does an amazing job of everything. And I know I'd just be in her way if I was at that house. But you're the only grandson I've got, and I know McKenna boys are always late bloomers, but I can't remember the last time I saw or heard about you having any fun. I know you've got a warm house, and – I think you know – a mother that loves you.”

Direct eye contact. “Yeah, I know.”

“That's good. You've got all the important stuff, the stuff you can't lose. But now you just can't ride that stuff out. When we're little babies, we have all the same things you've got now, and those things are beautiful. Having parents who love us and feed us, and a place to shit. It's great. But after that, the first thing babies do is learn how to play. Fun is the first thing we learn how to do, on purpose at least. It's always with us. Usually. But sometimes we need some help to remember how much fun it is, being alive. And me being towards the end of it like this, I need some help remembering, you could say.” A nice loud grandma laugh.

I'm staring out the window again. The sides of my head feel weird.

“Hal, what are you thinking about?”

“...Just that Terry said you might be using this stuff for that reason.”

“Well, Terry's a smart guy, like I said.” Giggling to herself. “I sure do hate that mall walk, that was true. But the other part can be true too. Thank you for bringing me what I need, Hal.”

I turn to look at her, and we almost make eye contact for a second, when the kettle whistles from the boiling water.

She jumps out of her chair. “There's the train! All aboard Hal! We're off to the undiscovered country.” She heads for the kitchen, whistling She'll Be Coming 'Round The Mountain as she walks. Somehow light on her feet at this age.

Feeling useless again, I think. I ask her, “...Do you need me to stick around?”

“No Hal, you go ahead. I called for some help when I put the kettle on, so I won't be left alone with a dangerous stove top. They should just about be here.” Giggling again to herself as she turns away from me and gets the tea bags.

I walk to the door and she comes and meets me, and gives me a hug. I hug her back. “Thank you for coming to visit me, Hal. I'll see you later.” Putting a heavy double entendre on a drug pun, I suppose. She softly shoves me out the door that she had apparently opened before hugging me, and I almost run straight into one of the building's nurses.

“Oh, hi there!” she says. “You must be Hal. I'm Jen.”

My soul has left my body.

“That's my grandson, Hal.” says grandma. “He was just on his way out.”

“It's so nice to meet you, Hal. Your grandma Lucy has told me so much about you.”

Her voice sounds like it's from a hospital, but in a nice way. She puts her hand out. I shake it?

“Yeah, nice to meet you too.” somehow comes out of my mouth, served up from the empty hole where my brain used to live.

“I think it's so sweet that you come to visit your grandma every week.”

What does she know? Is she in on it? Oh god every week? She probably thinks I'm ugly too.

“Yup, yeah, every week.”

“Aww, that's so nice of you.”

“It was nice to see you, Hal. Come on in, Jen. I've just about got my tea ready, then you can get back to work. See you next week, Hal!”

I leave her, with her laugh bouncing and curling off the wallpaper.