Before Forever (Sharing Space #6) (7 page)

BOOK: Before Forever (Sharing Space #6)
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Those who knew her best, though, would have expected nothing less. While my grandfather was a decorated Navy pilot, my grandmother put herself through law school, raised three children, and was the first black woman to make partner in her law firm. She’d toppled large corporations in the courtroom, brewed her own beer, and fixed classic cars in her spare time. In short, my grandmother was a badass.

 

After my grandfather died of cancer, she continued on for another twenty years, never remarrying and never so much as going on a date. She often said that he had been the great love of her life and, until the day they met again in heaven, she would never love another. As a child, I found the sentiment beautiful. Now, twenty-five years later, I thought it was bullshit.

 

After she’d driven herself home from the market that day, she got dressed in her Sunday best, called her personal physician, and told him he should probably hustle over as soon as he could because she didn’t have long. She then called her attorney to make sure all of her personal affairs were in order. Then she called each of her children, my father and his two sisters, and told them they should make arrangements to visit soon because she wouldn’t last the week.

 

My parents and I flew from Seattle to North Carolina the very next day. I was paraded before my dying grandmother in her bedroom. There were lots of machines and tubes. When you were rich, the hospital came to you. My mother placed her hand on the small of my back and gave me a push.

 

“Go on, Lily. Let her get a look at you.”

 

I was in a frilly yellow dress, white ankle socks with lace edges, and the shiniest black patent leather shoes we could get. I looked ridiculous. For some reason my mother thought it important that I look like a doll when I watched my grandmother die because I was her namesake: Lily Ann Hartwell. I stepped closer to the bed, careful not to touch any of the beeping machines. The room smelled of disinfectant and jasmine. Her face was a road map of lines. Her gray hair was thin and fanned out across the pillow beneath her head. Whoever said black didn’t crack was a damn liar.

 

Everything cracked eventually.

 

Her eyes fluttered open and she turned her neck with great effort to look at me. To this day I don’t think she ever really saw me, but my mother insists that she knew we were there. I took a seat across the room in a large wooden chair with a green cushion. I’d always been tall for my age and I remember being able to swing my legs without my feet touching the floor. That’s how big the chair was.

 

Over the next few hours I watched my cousins take their turns being presented to my grandmother. She never opened her eyes to acknowledge them, and that somehow made me feel special. My aunts hadn’t insisted that their children dress up like the Von Trapp kids, and that somehow made me feel less special. I wasn’t allowed to leave the room, not even to pee. It could be any time now, the doctor said.

 

When my grandmother started speaking to no one in particular without opening her eyes, my cousin Barbara ran out of the room crying. Barbara cried over everything. When she finally opened her eyes, she started making declarations of love to my father. It would have been gross except everyone said my father was the spitting image of my dead grandfather.

 

Her voice was remarkably strong at the end and I could hear her perfectly from my seat across the room. She held a hand up in my father’s direction and he gripped it.

 

“I’m here, mom. I’m here,” he cooed softly.

 

“You’ve always meant the world to me. I think we both always knew I loved you the most.”

 

My aunts exchanged awkward glances and my father looked uncomfortable.

 

“You were always the love of my life.”

 

The room breathed a collective sigh of relief. She was still talking to her dead husband.

 

“I always loved you, Ian. Always.”

 

Then she died.

 

And that would have been really sweet. Except my grandfather’s name was Henry.

 

*** 

 

Before I tell you any more of my story, there are a few things you’re going to need to know, to understand, ahead of time.

 

  1. Every relationship I’ve ever known, including my parents, my friends’ relationships and marriages, and even my own, have experienced infidelity.
  2. I have believed since th
    at day my grandmother died it is entirely possible to love two people at once.
  3. I have always had a thing for white guys.
  4. I live with my two best friends, who are white guys.

 

I think you see where this is going, right?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About the Author

Nina Perez is the author of:

 

The Twin Prophecies: Rebirth

Blog It Out, Bitch

The Sharing Space Series

The Tw
in Prophecies: Origins (March 2014)

Lily in the Middle
(Summer 2014)

 

She is also the founder of Blog It Out, Bitch and Project Fandom, a site filled with the latest in pop culture from a geek’s point of view.

 

During the day she serves as a Social Media Community Manager for an online outdoor retailer. By night she writes, watches a lot of British TV, and spends quality time with her two MacBook Pros, iPhone, and iPad 2.

 

She enjoys tabletop gaming, video games, smexy novels, crime novels, and anything science fiction. From Brooklyn, New York, she now resides in Portland, Oregon with her husband and two children.

 

She may also be slightly addicted to Apple products, Benedict Cumberbatch, Doctor Who, Game of Thrones, and Idris Elba.

 

You can connect with her below:

 

 

www.facebook.com/AuthorNinaPerez

 

www.facebook.com/ProjectFandom

 

www.twitter.com/AuthorNinaPerez

 

www.theninaperez.com

 

www.projectfandom.com

 

 

 

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