Things go from bad to worse when Grandma calls the next morning. Big Daddy's not doing well. Grandma tells Mom we need to come. So tickets are bought and within an hour we're heading to the airport.
Mom stays quiet, and Dad and I know she's just trying to keep herself calm. Two years ago Big Daddy's doctor gave him six months to live, after discovering cancer in his lungs. He's been fighting it ever since, but now it seems as though he's tired.
Big Daddy is a harsh man. He's sweet as can be towards Mom and me, but with his sons, their sons, their wives and even Dad, he is not. Mom always said he was a son of a bitch, and he knew it, but that he didn't care.
I sit with Mom while we wait for our flight. Dad goes to get some magazines. I focus on breathing, because if I cry, Mom will. She pretends to read while we wait to board.
The flight is long and eventually, I fall asleep. When I wake up my head is in Mom's lap and she forces a smile.
"Hey."
"Hey," I reply, sitting up and stretching. "How much longer?"
"About 20 minutes," she replies. Dad keeps his hand on her leg and we all work at staying calm.
When we land there's a chauffeur waiting for us. The drive to the huge southern Alabama plantation house in the country takes over an hour, and when we arrive only Duke and Landry, Mom's brothers, are outside, each with a tumbler of bourbon in hand. They hug Mom and I, shake hands with Dad.
"Where's Mama?" Mom asks, but she already knows.
"Oh, you know. She's gone to bed with a bottle and taken to the vapors," Landry replies, his accent noticeably thicker than Mom's. Hers gets thicker as soon as she's around her brothers.
'The vapors' is an old-fashioned term for, basically, hysteria-when a situation is too much to handle. It's always referred to as that, or the 'woman's condition' down here.
"And Big Daddy?" Mom asks, feigning an unbreakable front, but one that her brothers believe. Only because she doesn't break in front of them. Ever. They believe she's the toughest woman they know, and I'm sure she is. She's always taken care of them.
"Not so good. Doc was by yesterday. Said it's time to pull the plug, but...well, you weren't here yet, were you?" Landry replies.
This means neither of them will be able to do the job themselves, and that Mom will end up being the one who has to take their father off the respirator.
Mom thanks the driver for unloading our bags and tips him while Dad starts hauling bags inside, with the help of my uncles.
"Well. Let's see him, then," Mom replies, taking my hand like I'm a child and walking inside. I'm glad she's keeping me from falling, but I know that my hand is for her own strength as well as mine.
Upstairs in Big Daddy's enormous room with the fireplace, vaulted ceilings and expansive windows, his nurse is adjusting his oxygen and taking his vitals. Duke and Landry stay downstairs with the bourbon while Mom, Dad and I go in.
I haven't seen Big Daddy in about a year, but he still looks the same-large and formidable. He's asleep, sedated to keep him comfortable. The nurse talks with Mom as I stand there, staring at my pale grandfather, asleep in his enormous bed. Dad keeps an arm around me.
"He was in pain?" I ask.
"He was," Dad nods. "But not now. The medicine they've got him on makes him comfortable. See?" He points to a small tray with extra vials of morphine next to two empty ones.
"He's comfortable?" I ask. I know he is, but I want to hear it.
"He is, sweetie."
I sit beside Big Daddy and hold his hand. Mom is asking the nurse questions and Dad goes to stand with her because we can see her eyes start to look glassy even as she maintains her unbreakable demeanor with the nurse.
I stare at my grandfather and remember how he used to lift me up with one arm and walk me around the acreage, pointing out specific trees and his own livestock, so proud when I'd beat him to it and name the trees myself. How he'd tell me I was the most beautiful little girl in the world, just like his little Charlotte, and just as tough and fiery, especially when I'd help wrestle a calf to the ground during branding and gelding. Mom said he got such a kick out of watching me play paintball, beating men twice my age at a sport that not a lot of girls play.
He's gruff and hard and he's always been okay with being known as a son of a bitch. But he's my grandfather, and I love him. I feel my eyes sting as I stare at him, and after a moment, his eyes open the tiniest bit.
"Little Kati," he rasps through his oxygen mask. I smile through my tears.
"Hey Big Daddy," I whisper.
"Those better not be tears," he croaks. "Kings don't cry."
I laugh shortly. "This damn Alabama dust in my eyes," I reply. He nods once, slowly.
"Beautiful girl," he manages, as Mom reaches the bed.
"Daddy," she says, and he looks at her and smiles, but for him you can barely tell it's a smile-only his eyes soften a bit.
"Don't you be going soft now, Charlotte," he rasps. "Someone's gotta maintain the King name, and those brothers of yours aren't about to step up."
Mom shakes her head, meaning she's not going soft, and manages to keep tears from coming.
"We both know I don't need you tellin' me how to roost my chickens," she retorts. He chuckles, short and quiet.
"You just do what needs to be done," he orders. She keeps her head high and nods shortly. He looks her in the eye for a second longer than usual, and then closes his eyes and falls back asleep in a drug-induced haze.
Mom clears her throat and I stand up.
"I'm going outside," I say, and leave before Dad can even finish saying my name.
I run down the stairs and through the giant atrium, past Duke and Landry on the porch and over the lawn all the way to the stables. It's a three-minute run and when I reach the stables, I'm out of breath.
One of the workers looks up, startled by me.
"Miss Kati!" he says.
"Hi, Jorge. Do you mind if I take Bluegrass out for a run?" I ask breathlessly. Wordlessly he shakes his head and gestures towards the stall. I spin around and go get my favourite horse and a bridle. I forego the saddle, leading Bluegrass out of the barn. As soon as we're outside I slip on her bridle and hoist myself up onto her back, nudging her into a run. As we gallop away, I see Mom and Dad on the second-story balcony, watching.
I stay out with Bluegrass for over an hour. I feel like I have had to deal with too much death, too close together. I'm not naive enough to believe that people will be around forever. I understand that death happens, I just feel like I haven't had enough time to process so much of it. I don't understand why all of these things are happening.
Bluegrass and I end up on a hill overlooking a neighbouring ranch. They have a huge man-made pond on their property and I sit on Bluegrass as she grazes and just watch the sun, setting now, over the glittery water.
When I get back, Jorge smiles.
"Did you have a beautiful time, Miss Kati?"
I smile. "I did, Jorge. Thank you."
He reaches for the reins.
"I can do it."
"Oh, no," he grins. "You did my job already by taking Bluegrass for the running. And Miss Charlotte would like you to get ready for dinner."
I grin, a little sad. I wish I could stay out here in the stable; avoid everything.
As I get near the house I see Mom, Dad and my uncles on the porch. My uncles are half-snapped and Mom must be on her third martini because her smile looks lazy. Dad sips a bourbon.
"Hey, baby girl. How was the ride?" Mom asks.
"Nice," I reply, nodding and sitting beside her on the porch swing.
"Dinner's in about half an hour. Why don't you go wash up?"
I smile, trying to maintain a strong front for her, because I know the gin is just masking her pain. She kisses my forehead and I go inside.
I always stay in Mom's childhood bedroom when we're here. Like Big Daddy's, it has vaulted ceilings, huge windows and a balcony. There's a bathroom en suite, as well. Dad's already brought my bags up, so I take a quick shower and change into a simple sundress.
"You look beautiful, sugar," Mom smiles as I sit beside her. Duke and Landry's wives, Emma and Celia, have arrived and in the distance I can see my cousins wrestling around near the tire swings. I greet my aunts, asking how they've been.
"You want a bourbon, Kati girl?" Duke grins mischievously.
"My child most certainly does not need bourbon in her belly," Mom retorts.
"Ha!" Landry replies. "I seem to remember you and cousin Mabry just barely 15 and dipping into Big Daddy's decanter!"
Duke joins in laughing, "He knew it was you, and he whipped us for it instead!"
"He most certainly did not!" Mom replies. "Mabry replaced it with uncle Henry's stash, and you two got into it the next weekend. Tried to fill it back up with water, like a couple of sneaks and that's why you a whippin'!"
Duke and Landry laugh and Dad chuckles.
"Fifteen and into the bourbon," he shakes his head.
"Well at least I was smart and realized what stayin' in the bourbon would mean," she shoots at Duke. He laughs off the insult.
"Well then you should have no qualms with giving my niece a sip. For her grandfather."
I shake my head, rolling my eyes, but Mom says, "Fine. I know my child well enough. She knows better."
She reaches out and snatches Duke's tumbler, with at least two fingers of bourbon in it.
"Sugar," Mom holds it out to me. "For your grand-daddy."
I stare at her for a second, and she raises her eyebrows and holds it closer to me. I look at Dad and he shakes his head, laughing. I shrug and take the glass, cheers with Landry's glass, and down the bourbon in one gulp. I hate the burn in my throat.
Duke and Landry laugh and cheer.
Mom looks surprised but then takes my outstretched glass and says, "Well that'll hold you off until you're 21."
"Child's smart enough to know better anyways, Charlotte," Landry adds. "Like she'd get away with anything by you, anyhow."
Mom reaches out a leg to kick at him as Maggie, the housekeeper, comes out and tells us it's dinner time. Grandma refuses to come out of her room, so for dinner it's Mom, Dad, Duke, Landry, Emma, Celia and my four little cousins and me.
With Southern money comes Southern customs. Duke and Landry still live here in Alabama, so they do this frequently-the long dinners and flowing bourbon. This dinner takes about three hours, and while they are all having dessert and coffee with bourbon, the boys take to the living room to wrestle each other for the TV remote, and I excuse myself and go upstairs.
I hear Grandma in her room, crying and clinking a glass against something; a bottle probably. I know tomorrow is going to be hard. I know Mom is going to have a worse day, because she feels that it's her responsibility to 'pull the plug' on Big Daddy. I pass Big Daddy's room, and hear the steady buzz and hum of all the machines.
Mom said that while I was out riding, the nurse had to put a breathing tube in for Big Daddy. Now the tube is breathing for him, because his body is getting so tired. I look inside and see him asleep. Silently, I creep inside until I'm right beside his bed. I reach out and touch his cheek. I stand there for a few minutes, wordlessly saying goodbye. When I feel like a sob might slip out, I quickly leave and shut myself into Mom's old room, burying myself, fully clothed, beneath the covers.