A Sunday Drive

It was Sunday afternoon, and I was flipping channels on the TV. There was nothing on. Just an NFL game, news with people talking about football, and talk shows with dysfunctional guests.

I was just beginning to think that I might die of boredom when the doorbell rang.

I could not have been more surprised to see who was standing at the door.

“Grandma,” I exclaimed. What are you doing here?”

“Hello, dear,” she said. “It’s such a beautiful day. I thought it would be a nice day to take a drive.” She pointed at a 1957 Chevy Bel Air sedan, in bright blue, with a white roof, white fins, and white wall tires. It looked like new.

“When did you get that?” I asked.

“Oh, I’ve had it forever,” she replied.

Weird. I hadn’t seen it before.

Grandma handed me the keys and said, “You’ll have to drive.”

Wow. The car was indeed just like new. Most old cars of this age, even when restored, showed signs of wear, and signs that repairs had been done. But this was immaculate. I spent some time running my hands across the paint. It was so shiny and smooth. No rust, no dents. It was as if it had just come off the showroom floor.

“This is beautiful,” I said. I unlocked the driver’s door and admired the perfect upholstery. I reached over, and unlocked the passenger door, and my grandmother got in. “Wow,” I said. “I just can’t get over how perfect this car is. How did you manage to keep this so new?”

“Oh, I’ve got my secrets,” said Grandma. “Actually, the nice boys down at the garage kept it in storage for me. They said it should be driven once in a while, so every now and then, I go pick it up and take it for a spin. So come on, let’s go!”

I put the key in and turned it. The engine revved. It sounded good. I pulled out, and started driving, before I asked, “Where to?”

“Oh, let’s drive out to the country. We’ll take the back roads out to your mother’s. She’s mad at me again and doesn’t want to talk to me, but maybe you can talk some sense into her.”

Aha. Here was the real reason for Grandma’s visit. My grandmother had an ulterior motive for everything she did. She was nice to visit with, but she wasn’t nice. This was less about spending time with me, and more about using me to help manipulate her daughter into forgiving her for whatever terrible things she’d done this time, and she’d done a lot of terrible things.

But we were in the car. We were already moving, and I saw no reason to start a fight. It didn’t mean that was going to allow myself to be used. I changed the subject.

“Are you still living in that same apartment?”, I asked.

Grandma had moved around a lot over the years. She never seemed to stay in one place more than a couple of years.

“Oh, no. I left that place,” she said. “It was so dirty, and that carpet was so old. They wouldn’t replace it. So I moved. My new place is so much nicer, but the amount they charge for rent is criminal.”

“Ah,” I half chuckled. “That’s what I hated about renting, and why I love owning my place. I don’t have to wait around for basic repairs, and I can change stuff out if I don’t like it. Well, assuming I can afford it.”

“Upkeep costs are why I rent, dear. And then, I don’t have to do any of the work myself or try to hire someone to do it for me.”

“Can’t you just ask Uncle Will to help you out?”

Her look changed to sullen. “Oh, no. He’s far too… busy… to help me with handywork.” I silently wondered if that meant he was back in jail.

We were in the country now. Driving on a gravel road. The sun was shining, making the leaves on the trees look such a vivid bright green. I slowed down a little to enjoy the view. There was no traffic.

As we got closer to the small town where my mother lived, the sun went behind the clouds, and the sky turned dark, threatening to rain.

“Park in the back, behind the garage,” Grandma said. I pulled into the alley, and parked where she’d asked me to.

“Your mother’s in the garage,” she said. “You go on in and see if you can convince her to come out. I’ll wait over here. She might get mad if she sees me.”

Fair enough, I thought. I don’t need grandma talking over me, putting words in my mouth, as she surely would if given the chance.

I opened the gate and tried the man door on the garage. It was locked. I looked in through the window to the left and saw my mother’s face looking back at me. “Mom,” I said. “Can you come out? Or can I come in?”

I was hopeful. But then my grandmother spoiled it all. “Elaine! Stop this nonsense and come on out of there. You did this to yourself. It was not my fault.”

And upon hearing Grandma’s voice, my mother’s face contorted, and she started screaming, and flying around inside the garage.

It was then that I remembered. My mother had died. In that garage. Carbon monoxide poisoning. My grandmother had been in the house at the time, my mother had told my grandmother that she should kill herself, and that she was going to the garage to do it. My grandmother had told her to do whatever she wanted and then left to go see a movie.

Not only had my mother died many years earlier, but my grandmother had died a few months ago.

I needed to wake up.