Dear August

The people closest to me seem to suffer the most--

My dad and I were in the car driving 2 hours north to visit my Grandma Ross. She had been having strokes and was essentially going crazy. Again, this was something I just couldn't believe. I knew her health was failing her, but she couldn't be going insane. Gramma Ross was the sharpest lady I knew. She was my favorite grandmother. Needless to say, it was mostly silent as we drove down the highway. I watched out the window as the endless Nevada dessert passed by. Not a word had been said about Brendon, which I was thankful for. I was aware that my dad knew something was going on between us, but that's all I wanted him to know. Ever.

"Is that you Ryan?" She asked as I walked into the room, "You need to…you need to get the laundry and dinner…"

"Is it dinner time for you?" My dad piped up from behind me and moved me slightly to get by, "Where are the nurses?" He muttered and started looking for the call button.

"For the children. They're hungry. They've been asking you for damn near an hour…"

He stopped and sat down next to Grandma, "Mom there aren't any kids here." He spoke loudly to make sure that she heard him, "Mom? Ryan come say hello." My dad mumbled at me.

I had to find my feet and the courage to see her like this. I inched my way over to her bedside. The eyes that helped read books to me had a bluish film over them, were surrounded by bark circles, and were mostly vacant. The mouth that often smiled at him was thin and the corners were dripping with spit. Her overall appearance was like a skeleton, her normally thin frame was just emaciated.

"Gramma? Hi--"

"Ryan!" She exclaimed and a disoriented smile appeared. I felt a rock in my throat, "I didn't know you were here. Where's you're mother?" I took her hand in mine, like my father had done earlier. Only she gripped my tightly and was merely resting on my father's.

"Mom," She airily looked back over at my dad, "She lives in New Mexico now."

Her hand slid from mine I excused myself to the bathroom and locked myself in it hoping to get some relief. It didn't. The room was full of rails, medications, and other contraptions that were keeping her alive. I ran some water over my face and went out to face the ghost of my grandmother again. It got worse. Her real dinner had arrived and my father was helping her. I stood and watched, numbing bite by bite as she ate her meal. By the end of it the corners of her mouth were filled with food and she was even more delirious.

"See you later Mom." He kissed the top of her forehead.

"I'm…so tired…" She ignored him and rolled over to her side.

Her eyes rolled back and she began to wheeze. We left, both of our feet dragging on the ground and went to dinner. I knew it was going to be bad when he opted to skip a drive-thru and go to a sit down restaurant with a bar. The whole time I was in the room I was a fly on the wall, I was no where close to expecting what I had seen.

"What are you standing there for?" My dad clumsily unlocked the door.

I was standing behind him waiting for him to hand me the keys after becoming frustrated with trying to unlock the door. He was tipsy, no where close to drunk, but still I hated it when he tried to drive. He wasn't giving up.

"Get in the car." He grunted as he sat down in the driver's seat.

Again he struggled with lining the keys up. He jabbed and felt for the ignition and I sat staring out the windshield at the neon lights of the restaurant. For 30 seconds more I watched the man that I was scared of becoming, fight with the small brass keys. He halted and the car became silent with no more rustling and struggling.

"Ryan do you know why we moved?"

"You got a new job."

"Yes," He gripped the steering wheel, "Grandma started having strokes the year before we moved. I couldn't take care of her. So I got a new job, so we could move. I think we should move again…well now you went out and found yourself a new queer-bag I think it's time we picked up again."

His tone went from matter-of-factly to angry and rising. He threatened to move all the time. He threatened to move when my mom left and that didn't happen until my Grandma was going down hill…And he never told me? Sometimes I wondered (and still presently wonder) who lies to me.

"Don't think I didn't hear you two ass fucking."

I didn't respond. Even if I was used to this, it still sometimes frightened me. At the end of a day like this I could really use someone to talk to. That's what I liked about Brendon, he always listened to me even if he couldn't relate-- at all. And even if he couldn't relate he still made me laugh and feel better. Again he tried to start the car, but ended up pushing the keys over the dashboard to me.

"Drive."

We switched spots and headed home. I kept the radio low, until my dad finally fell asleep in the passenger seat. The sky sparkled with stars as we passed by government owned land and the temperature cooled down. I wanted to fix things with Brendon, but everything was really complicated and I had enough motives to make a spy movie look simple.

Then again, maybe it only seems that way because it hurts me too.