Come Landfall: A Novel

Eighteen: Double Play

eighteen Double Play “Nana?” Angela called out, stepping into the apartment, met by the droning of big band music on the radio. “Nana,” she went on, sensing something was wrong. “Cam’s okay, the doctor said she just needs to take it easy, she’s been so upset about her dad and all.” The rooms answered with emptiness. She had never, until now, left Nana alone for more than five minutes . She had been sure it was okay to drive Cam to the hospital. Nana had rarely, if ever, waked during her long afternoon nap. But in Nana’s room, clothes were in a heap on the floor. “Dear God,” Angela said. She ran into the parking lot with Cam right behind, looking around the sides of the building, asking up the side street if anyone had seen “a sweet old lady in a nightgown who’s a little confused.” People shook their heads, started to tell stories of their own grandparents . “The beach,” Cam said. “She can’t cross Highway 90!” “You know how Nana loves the beach.” “Oh, I can’t believe I let this happen! Please, Cam, the doctor said stay off your feet.” “I love Nana, too!” With Cam beside her, Angela drove frantically around the adjacent blocks, inquired at the gas station, asked two boys on bicycles. The civil war cemetery was too far for Nana to have walked, but Angela drove there anyway, and when she saw an elderly woman drifting 236 Roy Hoffman among the headstones, she clutched her chest in disbelief—but it was not Nana. The Biloxi Lighthouse, the sno-cone wagons, the youngsters flying kites—the coast road zipped by, upended, a nightmare taking hold. Could Nana have called someone in a moment of crystal clarity? Caught a ride somewhere? She saw a flashing blue light up ahead and a cop car stopped and a truck and a sports car in the middle of the road with people gathering around. She clenched the steering wheel. “Please, Jesus . . .” “Stop!” Cam said. “There!” At the beach, dancing along and waving her hands in the air, was Nana. “I can’t do this anymore,” Angela said to herself. She pulled into a parking bay and they hurried out and down to the water and she threw her arms around the delicate and helpless woman, barefoot, lipstick smeared on, dress twisted to the side. “He came to see me, Rosey came to see me!” “Don’t ever do that again, Nana.” “I’m happy, my Angel.” “Promise me.” “Don’t tell me what to do.” “The highway, it’s so dangerous.” “He came back.” “Let’s go home, Nana.” “I don’t want to go home!” “C’mon.” Angela reached for her hand. Nana slapped it away. “Don’t come near me.” “Do you want to stand out here all night?” “Maybe I do, dammit.” “Fine, c’mon, Cam, let’s go,” telling her under her breath: “She’ll come, don’t worry.” They trudged back to the car and got in. Nana seemed oblivious to them, though. She swayed and nodded to music only she could hear. come l andfall 237 Angela hopped out of the car and strode forcefully back to the beach. “Are you ready yet?” “He came back,” Nana said. “My dress,” Angela answered, “is a little baggy for you.” “It’s my dress.” “Mine, but you’re welcome to wear it.” “I got it from my things, right next to Rosey’s shirts all nicely pressed and shoes polished.” “Those were Frank’s,” Angela said. “Rosey’s.” “Stop it!” “Rosey’s,” Nana repeated. “Okay, Nana,” Angela said, finally coaxing her to the car. “Whatever you say.” That next morning, after walking into her closet—her blouses and slacks in disarray, Frank’s shoes askew—Angela worried the time had come. Like her discombobulated closet, the life that Angela and Nana had created together no longer made sense. She eased into Nana’s room, where she was curled in the sheets, silver and slight. Angela’s heart became a rock sinking in rising waters. How could she possibly, any longer, care for her grandmother on her own? Nana had moved in and had wavering clarity of mind for so long now, but had been docile enough, easy to manage. She had been the shoulder for her to lean on, sobbing, these first months without Frank. But Nana had...