We sat there, in the car, waiting.
There was something going on up ahead, but we couldn’t see and didn’t care what it was. If anything, it would delay our visit to Grandma’s even longer. Mum didn’t say anything, just pretended to be happy, even though inside she was as intimidated by her mother as we were. We just sat there, letting the silence swirl through the air and envelope us.
Grandma – she would never let us call her gran – was more like an army commander than a grandma.
I’m sure that if you opened her up you would see cogs grinding instead of organs, she was so precise and robotic. Heaven help you if she didn’t like you.
Heaven help me.
Mum looked at the clock nervously. As much as she didn’t want to go, she knew that Grandma would be furious - “can’t abide tardiness,” she’d remind us over and over. Still the silence filled the air, its barriers refusing to let a single noise escape inside the car. Outside the confines of the vehicle noise roamed free, car horns blaring, sirens in the distance, angry drivers swearing fit to burst. It was all muted, but there. I sighed – inwardly.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered. I looked up, as did Mum, evidently startled. But, it was just a sneeze. From my brother.
This time, my sigh was audible.
“What a way to break the sound barrier,” Mum replied.
“Actually, the sound barrier is…” Jacob began.
“Not now, Jacob dear.”
Jacob sighed. Mum sighed. I sighed. We couldn’t go home, we’d feel cowardly; we couldn’t go to Grandma’s, she’d probably slit our throats, so, once again, we sat. Unmoving. Not speaking. Devoid of life in general.
Jacob fell asleep in the back after a while. I could hear him snoring softly, his head bent at an odd angle, the muscles in his neck no longer holding the energy to keep it up. Mum took her phone out. I could hear her tapping away at it as I joined Jacob in slumber.
When I arose from the darkness, we were finally moving. I sat up straighter, stretching as far as the confines of the metal box would allow me. I glanced at a sign, trying to map our progress. That made me sit up straighter.
“Mum, you took the wrong exit! This is the way to the hospital, Grandma lives in the other direction!”
Mum looked grim.
“An accident held us up, dear.”
That was all she said. Silence upon us again, Jacob and I got out of the car and into the hospital, following Mum through a warren of spotless corridors. Finally, we turned into one of the rooms.
There, on the furthest bed was –
“Grandma,” I breathed.
“Not Grandma,” she whispered. She sounded so vulnerable, like a completely different person to the shouting busybody we all knew.
“You can call me Gran.”
She closed her eyes. All of the cogs ground to a halt.
Silence, broken only by a long, unwavering note of finality.
