The Winner's Game(29)

I shoot him a warning look.

Grandma smiles—or as close to a smile as her frail lips can manage. “Your house now. My gift to you.” She turns her head slowly to Ann. “And you.”

“Thank you, Grandma Grace,” Ann says politely.

“Yes, thank you, Grandma. You shouldn’t have, but it’s a huge blessing.”

Her old eyes begin drooping. She looks exhausted just from that short conversation. It’s hard seeing her like this. For a moment, my mind wanders back to the picture of her and Grandpa in front of the Eiffel Tower, and I can’t help feeling sorry for her.

I take a seat in the empty chair to Grandma’s right. “You look sleepy, Grandma. Why don’t you just get some rest? We’ll be back tomorrow.”

She nods, then lifts her withered, trembling hand. With a distinct twinkle in her eyes, she says, “Kids, don’t get old. Beats the alternative…but not by much.”

Grandma drifts off quickly after that. As soon as her eyes fall completely shut, the kids are ready to bolt.

“Can we go now?” asks Cade. “This place smells.”

I know we just got here, but there’s no telling how long Grandma will sleep, so I give in and we all head home. The only problem is, when we get there, there’s not much to do. After all, it’s still pouring outside, so the beach is out of the question. And the TV doesn’t work. And we forgot to bring our board games from home. We play a few card games that Grandma has in the house, but that’s about it.

Sadly, Thursday is pretty much the same. We all go to see how Grandma is doing, which isn’t all that great, and then we come home and wait for something—anything—exciting to happen.

Instead of something exciting, what we end up with is…more rain.

On Friday, when we awake to yet another downpour, it feels like everyone is a little more on edge. By midmorning there is a definite increase in the amount of whining and complaining over things like the size of the house, the sharing of rooms, the rabbit ears on the television, and the annoying blue carpet. By noon, the whining is replaced by overt grumblings directed toward specific individuals, mostly in the form of unkind tones and unfriendly glances. As the day wears on, unkind tones and unfriendly glances mushroom into threatening grunts and torrid glares, and before we know it…kaboom! It’s as though all three of my pirate-children simultaneously raise their black flags and fire their cannons in an all-out war of words. After that point, they can hardly stand to be in the same room without saying something awful to each other, which is problematic because there are only a few rooms to be in.

Since Dell isn’t around, I become the default arbiter of every little flap.

“Mom, she’s wearing my shirt! And she’s so big, she’s gonna stretch it!”

“Did you hear that, Mom? She called me fat!”

“Mom, he changed the channel!”

“But Mom, only stupid people watch that show!”

“Mom, she moved her foot to the spot on the couch that’s supposed to be for my feet!”

“She poked me!”

“He touched me!”

“She looked at me!”

“Mommmm! She’s breathing my air!”

It’s mind-blowing how quickly things can devolve. That’s not to say my kids have never had disagreements before. They’re kids, after all. It happens. I expect them to have arguments from time to time, or to occasionally tease each other about this or that. What makes this different, at least to me, is that it has never before felt so personal. At the height of their fighting, my only conclusion is that all three of them truly hate each other, and I can’t help feeling like I’ve failed as a mother.

At three o’clock, in the middle of their ongoing dispute, the phone rings. I pick it up in the kitchen, but hardly say a word. “Uh-huh…OK…How soon?” When I hang up, I take a deep breath, before yelling, “I’ve had it up to here with all three of you!” I’m pointing at my neck. “Lucky for you, your father is on his way. He’ll be here in time for dinner. If you still have fights to settle when he gets here, you can take it up with him. Until then, I don’t want to hear a peep!” To make sure they keep quiet, I sequester them to different parts of the house—Ann on the couch in the living room doing crossword puzzles, Bree in her bedroom doing her art, and Cade in the guest room to unravel the mystery of the Rubik’s Cube.

When Dell finally arrives, there are still plenty of things to be hashed out between the kids. The squeak of the front door draws them from their quarters like sharks to chum, each of them thirsty for blood.