CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I hear footsteps coming down the stairs and a sudden bright light from outside floods the darkness that has consumed my world. I squint at the figure's face, but their features are blotted out by the glare of the light coming from their phone and the tears over my eyes. Then I recognize the red-inked tiger's tail peeking out of the sleeve of the shirt.
"Gavin?" He says.
I roll by entire body over and glimpse Mr. P, my photography teacher, coming down the stairs. "No—wait!"
It's no use. The loud gasp that escapes his mouth says it all. He hops past the final steps and rushes over to us. He's silent for a moment, until he asks, "What happened? Is she...?"
"You don't understand! It wasn't me. I swear."
He kneels down and extends a hand to me. "Of course it wasn't you. Why would it be your fault?" I look away. He grabs my shoulder and pulls me toward him. "It's okay ... It's okay."
"She's gone."
"What happened? You can tell me."
"Something bit her..."
"What?"
"I don't know."
He pulls back and levels his eyes on me. "Gavin, you can trust me. You know that. What happened to her?"
My mind is racing. Do I tell him the truth? Do I lie? "I told you something bit her!" I shout. "Just go! Get out of here! I'll take care of her. I don't need your help! Or anybody's!"
"Hey," he says, "don't be like that. I want to help—"
"If you want to help, then leave!"
He steps back, raises his hands in a peacemaking gesture, but says, "No. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here."
"I don't want anybody's help anymore! Stay away from me or you'll just end up like everyone else I've cared about! Just go! Do yourself a favor."
He looks at me and sighs. "You think I'm stupid? You really don't think I know what's been going on?"
I slide away from him. "What do you mean?"
"You think you being placed in my class was just a coincidence? Uh-uh ... buddy. That was not a coincidence."
"What're you talking about?" My heartbeat picks up again.
He glances over at Estelle's body. "She was a great woman ..." He shakes his head. "We need to take care of her first."
"No—I'll take care of her!"
He nods. "Yes. You should. She was your only relative—"
"How do you know that?
"We'll talk later, after. And I promise you can ask me whatever you want and I'll tell you everything you'd like."
"No—how do you know that? I want to know now!"
"Right now," he says in a gentle voice, "you need to take care of your grandmother, okay?"
I'm still in shock by Mr. P even being here and confused by his cryptic messages. But at the same time, the relief of not having to face this alone feels like cold aloe being applied to a nasty sunburn.
I glance back at Estelle and then fold. "Fine!"
Mr. P and I hurry into the house. I change first and then dart to Estelle's room to gather clothes for her. The moment the door opens I just stand there. The courage to go through with this is lost somewhere. You have to do this ... for her.
I take in a deep breath and fumble through her drawers for a quick change of clothes. I hurry back into the hallway, where Mr. P's been waiting. He hasn't said a word, which makes me both thankful and anxious. What is he doing here? Why would he say that about Estelle, like he knew her?
"Are you sure you can do this?" he asks.
I nod and jog past him, to the stairs. When we go back down into the basement, I stop in front of Estelle's body. I can't believe this is real.
Mr. P walks around me toward her body, but I put my hand out to block him. "Wait," I say.
"What's the matter?" he asks.
"Turn around. I don't want you watching while she's naked."
"Sure. Yeah. Of course." He turns his back and adds, "Just tell me if you need any help."
I look down at her for a few seconds until I manage to force the nerves away. I don't know if I can do this. But it's the last thing I can do for her, I remind myself. As gently as I can, as if she's sleeping, I unbutton her torn shirt and ease it off. I swap it out for the replacement shirt and then start tugging on her tattered jeans. I have to close my eyes. All of this is so wrong. Every step of it is agonizing, complete torture. I shove everything into one of the packed cardboard cartons. Then I wipe her with a towel so she doesn't look like she had literally walked through a swamp.
When I'm finished, my face is drenched in a mixture of sweat and tears, and I'm just about ready to faint.
"Okay," I say, wiping my forehead of sweat, "you can call now."
Mr. P pulls out his phone and calls 911. When he says he has to report a death, I gulp in a fresh wave of tears. Within fifteen minutes the police and paramedics arrive. They immediately begin grilling us. "What happened?" "When was the last time you saw her?"
My thoughts are blurred with flashbacks of Leyla. Bud. Everyone I've lost.
"His grandfather passed recently," Mr. P answers, when he realizes it's impossible for me to speak. Do they know I'm not trying to be difficult? It's just that I can't talk about it—because then I'd be accepting it. Don't they get it?
I just nod as Mr. P answers most of the questions. "Gavin says she's been coming down here to look at photos of her late husband, Ed Greene. He passed away a few weeks back from a heart attack."
One of the paramedics hollers out for another colleague. He's pointing at something between one of the loosened buttons of her shirt. "Take a look at this. I found something. Looks like a bite. Nasty one, too."
He begins to unbutton her shirt and lunge to grab his hand. "Don't touch her!" I shout. "I'll do it!"
I kneel down and a circular bite is oozing green and brown pus right over her heart. I must've not noticed it when I was changing her since I forced my eyes closed.
"Could've been a spider," the other paramedic says. "Not too many poisonous ones in this area, but that doesn't mean it can't be. Something definitely bit her, though. And it looks like maybe the venom reached her heart. I'm sorry."
Before they take her from me, I give her a long, settling kiss on her forehead and whisper one final time in her ear. "I promise. To everything you said. I promise."
One of the officers hands me a card and says the coroner will be in contact. I know this drill far too well.
I get up and stand by the stairs mutely witnessing them carry Estelle out of my life.
