I spent my whole childhood with my grandma—I mean my mom’s mom—and she’s like a classic grandma and really pretty nice, with those wire glasses and white hair that’s like a cloud because she goes to those beauty parlors, and when I was little she always used to baby-sit me.
She usually came to my house, but sometimes—especially on weekends, because this was back when my parents used to go out pretty late together on sort of dates, and my grandma didn’t want to get home too late—I’d spend the night at her house, sleeping in my mom’s old room, which still had some of her stuff in it, dolls and pennants and things, from when she was a kid.
My grandma’s house is pretty small and sort of cramped, but full of sofas and raggy quilts, so it’s super cozy. I’d sit in this crazy recliner chair that went all the way back, and she’d bring out these old lacy photo albums full of pictures of my grandpa before he died, from a long time ago when he was in the army, and she would put them in my lap. She even had some pictures of my mom when she was a teen, and Grandma told me there used to be lots more of them. But my mom had torn up a bunch because she hated how she looked with one of those big hairdos that Greenway Terrace girls had back then, though I thought she looked really pretty.
We always had a great time, Grandma and me, but the big event was that right before it got dark, we’d take a walk down to the street where the shops were, and she’d buy me a Coke or something before we walked home.
I know it sounds silly saying it was a big event, but Greenway Terrace seemed like a whole different world to me. It was like I was on vacation. I remember thinking how different and simpler it all was from my neighborhood, where life felt like a game of hopscotch you had to play with a blindfold on. I’ve always been pretty sensitive to how people look at me. But up there in Greenway Terrace I never felt like everybody was sort of staring at me and wondering what I was all about. I always felt freer in Greenway Terrace, like I could do what I wanted and just be myself. I mean, I did sort of feel pretty anonymous, but in a really good way. And my grandma without even trying was, like, really supportive with all that, because unlike the people down the hill, she never put any pressure on me to be anything other than what I already am. I mean, for some crazy reason she seemed satisfied with that.
Anyways, I thought about how we always had a great time together, my grandma and me. I thought I should probably go visit her again soon, to let her know she still had a grandson.
I didn’t have to worry about visiting my dad’s parents, though. They moved away right after I was born and let my dad have their house, which, funny enough, is the same one he grew up in.
I sort of got the idea that my dad never really liked his parents too much, but I must admit he never actually talked about it. He would talk a lot about some things, especially the neighborhood, because he really did like dissecting the neighborhood into what he called all its levels, which is something he sort of infected me with, because I know I do that a lot too. But other things he never talked about and never tried to figure out—I mean like his parents. Of course, nobody ever tries to figure out that sort of stuff too much anyways, so I can’t really blame him.
But it was never like that with my mom’s mom. We always got along great.
So I decided to go to Greenway Terrace.
Well, I won’t say that I exactly decided to go there, but that was the direction in which I headed, just sort of ambling along without a plan, and running between the streetlights to get warmer after I’d scoped out the house windows to make sure no one was watching and checked the street for cars.
Now, I know you’re going to think I’m lying right now.
I mean about my intentions.
You’re definitely going to think I’m lying, especially after I told you about me going to the funeral, because I’m sure you’ve realized that I walked exactly the same way that day.
But before I say anything more about what I did, all I can really say is, I didn’t have any intentions at all.
None whatsoever.
Like I already said, I was going up the hill past all the watching houses to go through The Oaks to get to Greenway Terrace, which was a dumb name for the place, because I don’t think a single house on any street up there actually had a terrace, and if it did, it was probably littered with junk like old washing machines and spare tires.
I was just going up the street, and I finally got to the big intersection that’s a four-way and all lit up, and there was nothing I could do to not get seen except just wait for the light to change, which I did, and I was lucky no cars came by and nobody saw me.
I got over into The Oaks, and I’ve got to say that I liked it there—I always have. For one thing, it smells really good. When they picked the name The Oaks
