We ride down Route Three in silence. It is not a very long drive to get to the town of Lowville, but the silence stretches every second into an hour. We pass over Beaver Falls. My window is cracked to let fresh air into the car, and I can hear the water rushing over the rocks below the bridge. Year ago, people would dive from the side of bridge. They would free fall into the deep pool below the falls. The river was swollen then and its depths made it safe to jump from the bridge's height. Even those thrill seekers would not risk jumping from the bridge now. The water is too low to survive the fall. In places, it barely covers the rocks as it flows over them.
Even though the autumn night is chilly, the crickets send their songs across the river. There are always more insects near the water. The air here is filled with their high-pitched chirping. As we pull further away from the bridge, their songs fade and the car lapses into silence again. Soon, I find myself talking just to break the quiet.
"I'll put the kettle on the stove as soon as we get home and I'll make you some tea. I have that English Breakfast stuff that you like. If you want, you can take a shower while water's boiling. You'd be able to wash the smell of smoke out of your hair."
For a few seconds, I think she is going to stay mute, and I struggle to think of something else to say.
"I think a bath might be nice. I'd like to soak the fire out of my skin."
"As soon as we get home, I'll show you where I keep the towels. I can lend you a clean nightgown too, if you'd like." I realize that I keep referring to my house as home. For her, it isn't. We are currently driving away from her home. To her, this is my house. It will never be home. I scold myself for my poor word choice.
"Don't worry about making any tea, dear. I think once I'm done in the tub that I'm just going to go to bed. Don't trouble yourself."
"Are you sure, grandma? It's not a trouble at all, and will only take a couple of minutes."
"No, no. A towel and a nightgown will be just fine. You should think about getting some sleep yourself." I choose to ignore the implication that I look tired and run down. Mostly because I know it is the God-honest truth. I feel tired down to my bones.
"You sure you don't want any tea? Or maybe a light snack or something?"
"I could hardly eat a thing right now, honey."
"Okay. We'll both head to bed, then. I'll fix breakfast in the morning. I think we'll have a long day ahead of us."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because we'll have to head out to the house tomorrow, you know, to see what's left." I regret the words almost as soon as I've said them. Too abrupt. They just popped right out. I've never been known for my tact. "Oh, grandma, I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, dear. You're right. I'll have to face it one way or another. Might as well get it out of the way." She sounds drained and it seems to take a lot of effort for her to find her words. I know she is as exhausted as I am, although I am the only one of us who looks it. I do not know how she has made it through the night.
*grinz* Hate dialogue. Requires way too much hopping around in other people's heads to get the tone right. Necessary evil though. Although I have to admit, I'm anxious to see where the story's going.
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