Fly me up to where you are
Beyond a distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for a while
To know you're there
A breath away's not far
To where you are
As It Is In Heaven
Chapter 4 – "To Where You Are"
It was funny sometimes, how things could change in mere minutes.
He had been angry and upset, walking without a clear destination until he found himself at the house across the street.
And now, he was standing in his meemaw's kitchen. Unsure of how to proceed. Unsure of how to feel.
He had taken Amy up on her invitation to come to an agreement concerning her lease. Why had he done that?
It wasn't necessary. He could have asked her to give him all the information in writing.
But something had drawn him into this house.
And now, as he took in his surroundings, he was speechless.
What had he expected? Well, he guessed a part of him had been afraid, that this place had changed just as much as the rest of the things he thought he knew about his family and his childhood home.
That he would come here and feel just as out of place as he did in his mother's house. And in his own apartment in Pasadena ever since Leonard had moved out.
But instead, for the first time in years, he felt like he was able to breathe.
Meemaw's kitchen still looked exactly like it used to look. As if she had never left.
The flower vases on the windowsill sitting on crocheted coasters.
The old clock in the corner of the room, the one his pop-pop had once bought at a market.
All the little decorations, his meemaw had so carefully picked out.
The framed pictures on the wall. The big wedding photo in the middle and then all the family pictures.
Himself and his siblings in various ages and constellations. Many of them with their mother. And the older ones with both their parents.
And of course, his favorite picture. Just him and meemaw. Taken on the day when he had graduated from East Texas Tech. Ready to finally leave this place behind and move to California.
Away from the bullies, who somehow still had managed to find and torment him, even when he didn't go to school with them anymore.
He was relieved to see lots of pictures of Missy. Many of them with little Joshua. One with her baby girl.
And not a single one with Robbie.
His lower lip trembled. It felt as if even now from beyond the grave, his meemaw was still taking his side in all of this.
His eyes shifted to a picture he had never seen before.
His meemaw. Laughing with her mouth wide open. He could see the sparkle in her eyes. Her arm draped around another woman who looked equally happy. A woman he had very mixed feelings about.
"That picture was taken almost exactly a year ago. We had been members of the choir for a while and we all got along so great, so we decided to take a trip to the East Texas State Fair. All of us. It was a crazy weekend. Your meemaw loved everything about it.", Amy explained.
He hadn't even noticed that she had walked up behind him.
"I can imagine that.", he said quietly.
He couldn't take his eyes off the picture.
That was how he wanted to remember his meemaw. Happy and confident. Surrounded by friends.
Friends… like Amy? It sure seemed like meemaw had really liked her more than he thought.
"I have that picture on my phone.", Amy continued. "If you want, I could send it to you. And all the other pictures that were taken on that weekend. And from other occasions. That is, if you're even interested."
He turned to her, not really knowing how to answer. Why was she being so nice to him? They were practically enemies. Or weren't they?
"I… I am sorry. I'm rambling.", she said. "I'm just… nervous, I guess."
He furrowed his eyebrows.
"Why?"
She sighed.
It's just… Well, you're here. In this house the first time since… And I know you do not like me. So…"
Why would she care, if he liked her or not?
You're right. I do not like you. You shouldn't be here. Why can't you just leave?
It was what he wanted to say. So, he would just say it.
"You're right.", he nodded. "I do not like…"
It was as if his tongue was tied.
"I do not like…", he started again, but it was just impossible. So, he ended the sentence in a way that seemed to work. "…this situation."
"The situation that I am part of.", she added.
He couldn't quite figure out the look she gave him. But somehow, he felt, she looked sadder than earlier when they had met at the grave. If that was even possible.
"Yes.", he nodded.
But that wasn't what he had wanted to say either. There was a part of him. A very small part, that wanted to say something entirely different, as she kept looking at him with those big, green eyes full of sadness and a hint of something else.
Something about her made him want to tell her everything. About his pain. How much meemaw had meant to him. How his heart attack had scared him to his core. How he hated being back in Texas with his brother's condescension looming over him and the trauma of encountering his bully again. Not just passing by for a moment of terror. But as a part of his family.
And about how the deep shade of dark green of her eyes seemed to have a calming, soothing effect on him.
He wanted to let himself fall freely and have these eyes show him the concern and compassion he so was yearning for.
'Would you be my friend?', he wanted to ask her. 'Would you be there for me? Care for me like the friends I used to have? Could you be the neighbor, I could come over to and knock to get a piece of advice? Or could you maybe even mean more to me than anyone before?'
He tried to shake it off.
She was still the enemy, he kept reminding himself. She was part of the problem. An intruder. Responsible for some of the changes he had to deal with.
"Well…", she cleared her throat. "Why don't we sit down and settle this contract."
That he could live with. Contracts. Hard facts.
"Alright.", he agreed.
He sat down at his meemaw's table and tried to make his voice sound business-like.
"Now tell me the details of the agreement you had with the former uhm… with… with Cons…"
"With your meemaw.", Amy finished the sentence in a soft voice. "Or with Connie as I used to call her."
"Right."
This was even harder than he had thought.
"Well…", she sighed. "The agreement was that I rented her guest room. Naturally it included use of the bathroom, kitchen and living room. I paid my share of the bills and took care of the yard and later on, I did most of the household work when she… uhm… when she got weaker."
Sheldon didn't know how to react when he noticed her eyes filling with tears.
"I… uhm… I am sorry.", she sniffled and got up to get a tissue. "This is inappropriate. It's just, I loved living with Connie. And you being here, us talking about this, it just makes it more real that she's never coming back."
In times like these, Sheldon wished he was better at figuring out social cues.
Because he wasn't sure, if this was possible.
Was she sincere? Did she really miss meemaw this much? Had she really loved her like this? Almost like a dear family member?
He was quiet for a minute and gave her time to compose herself again.
"Were you… uhm… compensated in any way in order to take care of her?", he asked then. "I mean when she got sick? And for all the extra work you did here?"
"Of course not."
This tone he could recognize. She sounded offended.
"I am sorry, I just had to ask. For the contract.", he mumbled, slightly embarrassed.
Amy took a deep breath.
"Sheldon, I know this is hard for you to believe. I would find it hard to believe too. I mean, there I was, just passing through when I heard that the school was in desperate need of a science teacher. I figured, why not help out for a while. And then I needed a place to live on short notice and someone got Connie to offer me her guest room. I was hesitant at first, moving in with a stranger in such a tight knit community. But I never planned on staying this long anyway, so I said yes. And then I…"
She paused, and closed her eyes for a second, taking another deep breath.
"And then, I found a home here. And not just that. I found a friend. You don't know me very well but if you did, you would know how unlikely this is for me. It almost seemed like a miracle. Connie, she… she took me under her wings. She took me bowling. We went out drinking together. She introduced me to your family. She got me to join the choir. And well… she liked me. Never tried to change me. She just understood me. I loved her so, so much. I can't believe she's gone. And I certainly would never have taken money for taking care of her in her last days. Because it was the least, I could do. And not nearly enough to pay her back for all she has done for me."
As he studied her face, a little shaken by the intense emotions in her voice, he finally realized, what he had been missing before.
How could he not notice it, simply by the way in which she spoke?
This woman, she was not from Texas.
What did she mean, she was passing through? Passing through Medford? No one just passed through Medford. And on her way from where? And why?
And why then did she take a job here so spontaneously? Did she not have better things to do than teaching at Medford High?
He shook his head.
This was not the time nor the place to gain an interest in her personal life. In fact, there would never be a time or place for that.
What did it matter where she came from? She was just another problem he had to deal with.
"So, no compensation then.", he mumbled. "I still need to know what your rent was, so I can set up the contract."
"Fine.", she huffed. She still seemed to be upset at him. "I'll show you the bank statements. I guess you will want to raise the rent now anyway, since I will be living here alone."
"No.", he said quickly. "No. I do not wish to change anything about your agreement with meemaw. I also want to make something clear."
He hesitated. It wasn't easy to find the right words without getting too emotional. This was a business meeting after all.
"I'm listening."
She was looking at him expectantly, so he just said what he had to say, as quickly as he could.
"You are not renting the house as a whole. You will proceed to rent the guest room as you did before. Of course, you will still have the right to use the bathroom or kitchen or living area. But under no circumstances will you set foot in meemaw's room. That is to remain exactly as it was. And if you want to change anything about any room other than the guest room, you will run it by me first. No matter how small that change might be. You want to move a vase? You tell me first. Hang up a new picture? The same. There will be no, and I mean absolutely no changes as long as I do not approve. And I probably won't."
He swallowed thickly.
"Can you agree to these terms?"
"Will you, uhm…", she gulped. "Will you come by and check if I changed anything? Will there be inspections?"
He pondered it for a moment.
It sounded tempting. He loved inspections. But he couldn't stand the thought of it somehow. And he doubted that this was what his meemaw would have wanted.
"That's not necessary.", he stated. "Since I will be here to dust her room once in a while, I am sure I would notice anyway. And other than that, I will take your word for it."
He wished he hadn't said that last thing. It sounded as if he was starting to trust her. Which he wasn't.
"Alright.", she conceded. "I can agree to those terms."
"Good.", he nodded. "I will write up the contract tomorrow and bring it over for you to sign."
"Good.", she agreed.
He should get up and leave right now. There was no reason to prolong this unwelcome interaction any further.
But instead, he kept looking around in the room. Taking in meemaw's presence that somehow seemed to still be there, in the furniture, in the walls, in everything that belonged to her.
"She has left you a box, you know.", Amy said after a while. "It's in the closet in her room. Your siblings got one each too, but she did not want me to send yours to California. She told me to give it to you once you came home for her funeral."
"A… a box?", he croaked.
"Yes. A box. Full of memories of her that she wanted you to have. And a letter. We packed the boxes during her last days."
"So, did you read it then? The letter?", he asked. He hated the thought of having to share her last words to him with anyone.
"No. No, Sheldon. I did not.", she shook her head vehemently. "I helped her write the letters to Mary, Missy and Georgie. But even though she was so weak in her last days, she insisted on writing yours all by herself. In fact, yours is the only box, she packed without my help. It took her a lot of strength, but she said it had to be this way. Do you want me to get it for you?"
"No.", he answered quickly.
He did not want this woman in meemaw's room. He didn't want anyone in there. Not even for a second.
So, he got up without another word and quickly walked over to the room that held the last sanctuary of his memories of her.
Taking a deep breath, he went inside and closed the door behind him.
And then he was hit by the scent of roses and lavender mixed with a faint hint of the various ointments and creams she had been using to relieve some of the muscle pain that aging had brought on.
It was so powerful, the way it filled his nose, making it seem as if his meemaw was still here in this room.
He paced to the closet where he found a carefully wrapped box. Even though he had planned to leave momentarily and just open the box back in his room at his mother's house, he couldn't stop himself from removing the lid and taking a peek.
The first thing he saw was an envelope addressed to him.
"To my beloved moonpie."
It was written in the same, unique handwriting that had been his comfort for over two decades with every letter she had ever sent him.
He slumped down on the floor, his back against the wall, and finally the emotions that had been accumulating in his soul found their way out.
"Oh, meemaw.", he sobbed as he stared at the letter in his hand.
He was rocked by powerful sobs, allowing himself to let go of everything for the first time since she had died. Wailing and weeping until there were no more tears left. He had no idea how much time had passed. Minutes? An hour? Something in between?
But it was exactly what he needed, to let go of a bit of the anger, the desperation, the fear and the overpowering sadness. And it gave him so much closure than her funeral had just a few hours before.
When he had calmed down again for a bit, he stared at the letter in his hand.
But as much as he wanted to know this last message of her, he just couldn't bring himself to open the envelope. It felt too final. He was just not ready for that moment. Opening the last of her letters to him.
He did not want to take it with him either. Have it in his room where his mother or one of his siblings could find it.
After considering it for a second, he put it into his meemaw's nightstand and locked it. He took the little key and put it into an old vase on the top shelf on her wall.
Yes, this felt safe. No one would be coming into this room without his permission.
After that, he opened the box again and took out item for item she had so carefully picked out for him.
Pictures, oh so many pictures of the two of them together.
A model train she had once gifted him. It had always been his favorite one.
A watch that had once belonged to his pop-pop. He knew this one had always been set aside for him.
A few other items he could hardly register, because of the hot tears still falling from his eyes, but he knew he would cherish all of them.
He had to smile when he saw an old disc. He recognized it. The first video game he had ever played with her. Oh, he had no idea she had kept it.
And then a last item that confused him more than anything else.
Why would she leave him such a cherished family heirloom? He knew it had meant a lot to her, but he couldn't remember ever stating an interest in that shiny little piece of jewelry sitting in that little blue satin box.
He had already gotten her house. Why would she leave him this too? Why not give it to Missy? He was sure she would have loved it.
Maybe once he would be ready to read the letter, he would find out why she had left it to him.
He put the contents back into the box, closed it and carried it under his arm as he stood up.
One last time he let his gaze wander around her room before wiping away his tears and leaving for the kitchen again.
"Would you like some tea?"
Sheldon jumped at the sound of Amy's voice. He had almost forgotten she was here.
He turned around and blinked as he noticed, she had changed her attire while he was in meemaw's room.
Instead of her loungewear, she was now wearing a short-sleeved, pink blouse with little flowers on it, and a black skirt that highlighted her bottom. She had done her hair too and put on some subtle make-up.
Pretty.
That was the first thought that came to his mind.
But he shook it off. Was she trying to impress him? Why? What did she hope to gain from that?
"I uhm… I should just go.", he mumbled.
But the smell of tea coming from the kitchen counter was so tempting.
"Are you sure? You look upset. Connie always said, she learned from a very smart person, that it is a good idea to offer a hot beverage when someone's upset.", she paused and smiled. "And then she used to add, that it is an even better idea to offer a strong drink. But well, you don't strike me as much of a drinker, so… are you sure you don't want tea?"
He cleared his throat, overwhelmed with emotions, hearing this little tidbit of life with his meemaw.
"Uhm… well, maybe one cup wouldn't hurt."
He sat down just as Amy handed him one of the mugs and sat down with another one for herself.
"This is perfect.", he blurted out after taking a sip.
And it really was. Perfectly brewed. He couldn't have made it better himself.
"Good.", she smiled at him.
Pretty.
He shook his head. Why did he keep thinking that?
"For the record, I was the one teaching meemaw about hot beverages.", he mentioned, without even knowing why he would tell her that. Somehow, he wanted her to know that he was this very smart person his meemaw had mentioned.
"I figured.", she said and grinned at him in a way that gave him goosebumps.
"I'm sorry.", he blurted out then. "For saying you were nothing to her. Clearly, I did not have enough data to make a judgement on that."
Her smile got even brighter, and he could feel his heart skip a beat.
"Thank you, Sheldon. It means a lot to me, hearing you say this."
It felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. At least he didn't feel as guilty anymore.
Amy checked her watch then and finished her tea quickly before cleaning up her mug.
He expected her to sit down again and was strangely disappointed when she did no such thing but instead grabbed her purse just as they heard a honk from outside.
"I don't want to be rude, but I have to go. Just finish your tea and close the door behind you when you leave, alright?"
"I can do that.", he agreed slightly confused. "But… you're leaving? Why?"
She hesitated for a second.
"I uhm… I am going on a date. I cancelled initially because of the funeral, but in the end, I decided I need the distraction tonight."
He had stopped listening at the word 'date'. He had no idea why, but somehow, he did not like this.
"Must be some gentleman, waiting in his car and honking his horn for you to get outside.", he muttered.
She chuckled. "You just sounded exactly like Connie used to."
She turned serious again then, taking a step closer to him before putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Will you be okay, Sheldon?"
He wanted to shout at her to keep her paws off him. To stop acting concerned for him.
But strangely, her touch did not bother him that much. So, instead, he gave her a weak smile.
"Yes. Thank you. For the tea."
She left then and he stood up, the mug still in his hand as he walked over to the window, watching her as she got into the car that was waiting for her.
"That woman is crazy.", he whispered to himself, but there was a nagging feeling inside of him, a feeling that maybe it was him that was slowly going crazy.