The late afternoon sun makes an obscure appearance through the heavy cumulus clouds. A crisp northern wind blusters through the small quaint town, making the day seem much colder than it is. The remaining patches of snow scattered across the cemetery lawn add to this arctic feel.
"Why, Lord, why did you have to take him too?" Matilda sobs. She glances toward the casket and then her grandson's picture beside it. She pictures the day in her mind. I remember the day I took the photo.
"What do you think, Grandma?" Troy asks, walking down the stairs.
She turns to find a clean-shaven young man sporting a baby-blue tux smiling at her. Where have the years gone, she thinks? It seemed like he was hauling GI Joe's around in his Tonka trucks only yesterday. "You look fine, boy, real fine; any girl should feel lucky to have you for her date."
Troy nervously adjusts his tie. "I hope she thinks so."
"I bet all the girls will want to dance with you tonight." Now stand right there and let me get a picture."
Troy anxiously glances at the clock. "I'm already late, Grams."
"One picture won't make you any later. Now hold still."
We used to quarrel over everything. Recalling a few of the arguments, Matilda smiles through her tears. She then thinks back to when the police broughtTroy to her.
She wasn't sure she could handle a rambunctious toddler at her age, but a drunk driver killed his parents, and he had nowhere else to go. It was a substantial change for both of us, but we somehow managed to muddle through. Another pleasant memory suddenly comes to mind.
Toddling to his wagon, Troy hops in."Park, Granny park," he'd excitedly say.
"I couldn't say no to him, no matter how tired I was. Granny then remembers his first day of school. He was a brave little soldier, but she cried the whole way there.
"I'll be alright, Granny," he says, kissing her teary face.
You always were a brave child, willing to face whatever came your way despite what the cruel world threw your way. She recalls how it'd break her heart when she'd find him sobbing on the porch.
"Why can't I play like them, Granny? Why?" he'd bawl, pointing to the kids in the park. Troy was born with a congenital heart defect, limiting what he could do.
She tearfully glances at the cloudy sky. You don't have to worry about restrictions anymore. She sees a small sun ray peeking through the clouds. "You go have fun, baby, make-up for all the lost time." She glances around and adds. I'll keep making sure this doesn't happen again.
Marge turns towards Matilda and asks, "Are you ready to go?"
"Yes, of course." Scooping the purse off her lap, she grabs her cane and stands.
"Our preacher gave a beautiful eulogy, don't you think?" Marge asks as she helps Matilda to the car.
"It was very nice. I appreciated all the kind things everyone said."
"Troy was a great guy. You raised him well."
"Thank you, Marge." She dabs her eyes.
A stranger tearfully watches the grieving woman from a distance. With every passing second, her heart breaks a little more."It's such a shame that things turned out the way they did. Poor Matilda loses everything, and the killer runs free. I just hope somebody stops him before he does it again."
"Would you like to stop anywhere before I take you home?" Marge asks as she pulls away.
"I'd rather just go back to the nursing home, lay down a bit if you don't mind."
"Of course, dear."
Matilda's doctor insisted she move to an assisted living facility, promising she could return home once she regained strength. I wish I could return now. Matilda thinks, eyeing the old brick building beside them. The place is nice, but it isn't home.
"Here, let me help you," Marge offers, unfastening her seatbelt.
"No, no, I've got it." Grabbing her cane, Matilda eases out of the car.
"Call me If you need anything, even if you just want to get out for a while."
"I appreciate that, Marge. I do."
Matilda's nurse, Liz, runs to her when she steps inside. Granny smiles. Liz has quickly become one of her favorites. It's nice to know that she misses me.
"How are you, Ms. Brennan? Can I get you anything, tea or a snack, perhaps?"
"No, no, I'm fine. I've had an exhausting day and would like to lay down for a bit if you don't mind."
"Of course not, hon; here, let me help you." Liz takes her arm in hers.
Pulling away, Matilda pats her hand. "I can manage just fine on my own."
"Yes, of course, you can, I just thought that ..."
Matilda turns towards her nurse, smiles, and says, "It's ok, dear; I know you're only trying to help."
***
The bitterly cold wind sweeps through the town, chilling the elderly lady to her bones. Fastening her coat around herself, she heads toward the bar. It'll be worth it in the end. Granny thinks, picking up her pace. Glancing toward the starless sky, she says. I'll make sure another family won't have to go through what we have, son.
A tall, thick man stumbles down the porch steps as she's coming up. Granny tries to maintain her balance, but her feet slip out from under her; she tumbles to the ground. Glancing up, Granny shakes her fist. "Watch where you're going, bozo."
"Sorry ma'am, I didn't see you there." He offers her his hand.
She pushes it away. "I don't need your drunken ass to help me up."
Offended, he draws back his hand. "I was only trying to be polite."
"It probably wouldn't have happened if you weren't so sloshed." Picking up her cane, she struggles to her feet. She dusts off her clothes then says, "I suppose you plan to drive home like that?"
"What's it to you if I do? Besides, isn't it a little late for someone your age to be out preaching morals?"
"Are you calling me old?"
The man eyes her again. "If the shoe fits."
" I'll show you old. I'll teach you a thing or two about drunk driving." Lifting her cane, she whacks him behind his knees. His legs jerk forward. His rounded body folds to the dirt.
"Didn't your dad teach you any manners, boy; tell you to respect your elders?"
"Pops died when I was young."
"That doesn't excuse you for acting this way. She smacks her cane across his back. Air whooshes from his lungs. "That's what's wrong with you pampered kids these days. You don't have an ounce of morals in you. She whacks him again and again. "My daddy used to take a stick to my backside when I was young, and it didn't ruin me, none. It made me stronger, taught me right from wrong, and value everything you get." She thumps his head with her oak stick.
"Ok, ok, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I promise I'll be more respectful to you and all the other grannies," he says, trying to stand.
She flogs him across the back.
The man's plump body plummets to the ground.
Raising her cane, she hits him again and again.
"Gee lady, take it easy, alright. I said I was sorry. What more do you want?"
"I don't believe your lying drunken ass for a second." She lifts her cane to his neck and squeezes its handle. A high-pitched swiss pierces the air as a bullet-shaped object launched from the bottom of her walking stick.
A sharp frozen mass pierces his carotid artery. Harrowing pain radiates from the wound throughout his rounded body. He looks down to find blood gushing across the ground. He reaches for his neck, hoping to stop the bleeding, but the warm, sticky liquid oozes between his fingers and down his hand. "Help me, please, somebody help me," he screams, struggling to get to his feet. His head begins to feel foggy. His surroundings spin. "Help me, please help me," he yells as he takes an unsure step. He tries to take another but plummets face-first to the ground.
Walking over, Granny shakes her head. "You lose blood quicker when you move around."
He looks down to see the red puddle below him getting immense. "Help me, please, someone help me," he screams again.
"Getting excited helps blood flow too. Besides, no one can hear you over that noise you youngins call music."
"Why did you do this for, why?"
"I want to make sure a drunk doesn't ruin another family's life."
***
I think I'll check on Ms. Brennan to see how she's doing. Liz taps on her door, then listen. There is no reply. The nurse taps again then walk in. "I brought you a little snack, Ms. Brennan. I figured you'd be hungry since you skipped dinner tonight." Liz sees her room is empty. She checks the bathroom to find it's unoccupied as well. I wonder where Matilda could be. Liz sees one of her assistants when she steps into the hall. "Have you seen Ms. Brennan, Nancy?"
She curiously glances at her superior, then the door. "Not since she's returned. Why?"
"She's not in her room."
"I bet her friend picked her up for bible study."
Liz smiles. "Bible study, of course." Liz then remembers Ms. Brennan sobbing all afternoon. "I'm sure it'll do her some good to get her mind on something else."