He shook his head. “It’s completely different, Kenzie. You don’t even know if you want to be Immortal or not.”
I shook my head, but there was no denying it. “I love it, but I hate it.”
He rubbed his temple. “Then I guess you’ve got a tough decision to make.”
“The hardest decision I’ve ever made.”
He rolled his eyes. “I have to go. I’m sorry I got angry, but...well, you understand why. Let me know when you make your decision.”
When I was growing up, one of mom and grandpa’s favorite words to toss around in reference to The Necropolis — other than ‘corrupt’ and ‘selfish’ — was ‘Faustian’. I always thought it sounded cool, but had no idea what it meant until the year before I became Immortal when I took an advanced English class. The first thing we studied was Doctor Faustus, a play about a man who sells his soul to the devil in exchange for riches and power. He considers repenting several times but the temptation is too great. In the end, he's dragged down to hell. Pretty blatantly metaphorical, but I didn’t realize until Gage left my room that day just how obvious the parallel was. Sure, I’d made an attempt to get out of my deal — but an awfully half hearted one. What if it didn’t work? And even if it did, what if I didn’t make my decision until it was too late? What if it was already too late the second I made the deal?
According to the always vigilant and almost always informative news aggregator that was Jacey, Gage and Elizabeth ended their relationship in late June, almost a month after my last meetings with them. She said — and this was apparently a direct quote from Matt — that Gage had referred to Elizabeth as “shallow and irritating.” I could have told him that eight months earlier and saved him a bit of heartache, making up for the heartache I'd apparently caused him myself. But he never asked me.
I was surprised at how little I actually cared about their relationship, or any gossip or news out of The Necropolis, anymore. Since my last run-in with my old friends, I had spent most of my free time with mom and grandpa, the latter of whom didn’t leave his house much at that point. He already had a home nurse and, even though he could get up and walk around, usually chose not to.
The nurse was already there when we walked in one morning in August. She flipped through the few channels grandpa had. He sat in an armchair with his feet propped up, staring at the TV. He didn’t get up when we walked in but did turn his head.
“Georgia. McKenzie. Glad to see you guys.” His speech was slower, and I saw several plastic bottles half filled with fruit punch and water on the TV tray by the chair.
I bent to hug him. “Hi grandpa.”
“How are you feeling?” mom asked.
He nodded. “Just fine, just fine.”
Mom took his hand in hers but he didn’t say much and after a couple of minutes he was snoring softly. Mom, the nurse, and I all laughed softly.
“Has he been doing this a lot?” mom asked as soon as we stopped laughing.
“Mostly, yes,” the nurse said. “He hasn’t been eating as much but I have gotten him to drink a decent amount.”
They continued to talk medical things for awhile; I knew I should have listened since this was supposed to be my area of (eventual) expertise. But it was just too weird to hear all these terms I usually heard in school being applied to someone I knew. They didn’t notice when I slipped out of the room a few minutes later to use the bathroom.
When I went back through the kitchen the nurse was there alone, rinsing out glasses. “He’s awake now, if you want to talk to him. Though I think your mother is keeping him occupied.”
I nodded. I didn’t really care to go back to the living room and listen to mom force conversation about TV shows or school or God only knew what else. Instead, I began slinging the dishes dry and putting them up. It reminded me of the first time I'd met Gage so many months ago and helped him do dishes.
“So are you ready to go back to school?” she asked.
“Not really.” I took a towel and started to dry plates. “I’ve got three more years before I can get a degree. It seems endless.”
“Do you have any idea what you want to do with it? Maybe become a doctor?”
“That’s exactly what I want to do. I love helping people.”
“So do I. But McKenzie, has this experience with your grandfather...changed anything?”
I had expected this question, but not at that moment. “How do you do it?” I asked. “How do you take care of someone and know they’re just going to get sicker and sicker?”
“You don’t get attached. He’s your grandfather so you already know him, but I don’t. I have to do my job so the person you love will be comfortable.”
I noticed she didn’t say happy, well or even alive. I set down the plate I was holding and went back into the living room. I knew Mom and grandpa were watching some old game show, and grandpa looked like he was about to doze off again. They didn’t notice when I slipped something out of my purse and into my jacket pocket.
“Should I get grandpa some more water?” I asked.
Mom shook her head. “No honey, you don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “I don’t really feel like sitting back down anyway.”
She sighed. “All right, that’s fine. I don’t know if he’ll drink it right away though.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “He doesn’t have to.” So long as he drinks it eventually, I wanted to add, but didn’t.
I went back to the kitchen and took out a
