When I came back from the bar I took off my boots and went to go check on Grandma. It was still early in the night so I figured we could watch I Love Lucy together before bed.

I found her, on the Lazy-Boy, asleep, but the TV was still playing. I tried to gently tap her awake, but she didn’t budge. I touched her hand, and it was cold to the touch.

She was not sleeping.

She was in a way, but she would never wake up.

I hold her hand while I call Evangeline. I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t pick up. I want to call Charlie, but I know I shouldn’t. I’m so selfish. I don’t know what to do.

I told Nick I’d call him later, so I knew he would pick up.

And he did.

I tell him everything.

I have been standing in the same spot for so long I think I might be glued to the floor. He gives me instructions, but words don’t seem real anymore. I tell him I don’t know what to do, and he asks for my address.

He was at my house in ten minutes when the drive should’ve taken thirty.

“It’s okay. I’m going to try and help. It’s okay,” he said.

He hugged me, and I finally let go of grandma’s hand. I feel like whatever curse that had me stuck to the floorboards has been broken when he holds me closer. He tells me he’s sorry over and over, like he was the one who killed her, but he didn’t.

I did.

I shouldn’t have gone out tonight.

He takes me outside and while I sit on the front porch he calls Sheriff Grant. He’s at our home in five minutes, before the ambulance even arrives. They arrive forty minutes later, because the nearest hospital is too far from Edelweiss.

The ambulance driver gave me a number to call tomorrow at the coroner’s office.

Nick spends all night with me.

Neither of us sleep.

I can’t.

We’re in my bed, wrapped up in each other. He spoons me from behind and I don’t mind even though I want to be alone. I want to be alone but at the same time I don’t want to be.

I can’t sleep and I realize why.

I get up and go to the living room.

I glare at the source of all my problems.

The Lazy-Boy.

The last time I saw my mama was at night. I fell asleep on the couch and she was sitting right in that chair. Now another person has left me, but for some reason this couch persists.

Nick enters the living room and finds me glaring at furniture like a mental ward patient.

“What’s wrong,” he asked me.

“That.”

I point and the couch and without asking more he understands.

I don’t know where such strength came from such a skinny man. But he picked it up, squeezed it through the front door, and put it right next to the trash can. The deed is done, and we quietly go back to bed.

I finally cried.