"Bad is relative."
"She's dying."
"She..."
"Mom. Tell me the truth. Is Grandma dying?"
She turns to me, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her lips quiver.
Mom usually looks so put together. Pretty. Trendy.
But she's in leggings and a hoodie. Her hair is in a ponytail. Her only makeup is a little lipstick. It's not like her.
"Mom..." My voice cracks. I know the answer, but I need to hear her say it.
"I'm sorry, Kay." She shakes her head. "We thought it would be better if you didn't know. It's what Mom wanted."
"But—"
"She didn't want you to see her like this."
"But—"
"She only has a few weeks, max. Or maybe a few days. It's hard to say."
My hands are shaking again. A tear stings my eye. It's hot and salty. Then there's another. Another.
Words rise up in my throat.
But what is there to say?
Grandma is dying.
There isn't a word in the universe that will make that better.
I unclick my seatbelt and move toward Mom.
She wraps her arms around me. "I'm so sorry, Kay. We thought we were protecting you."
"Well stop." I tug at her hoodie. "Stop making decisions for me. Stop protecting me. I'm an adult and I can tell you what I can handle. Or what I want. Or who I love."
"Kay?"
"He... he isn't here."
"Who?"
"He loves me, but he won't be with me."
"Who loves you, Kay?"
"It doesn't matter." Not anymore. I have to get through this without him. That's his decision. It's probably for the best. Otherwise, I'll fall more in love with him.
I stop chocking back sobs.
I hold onto my mom and I cry until I can't cry anymore.
Chapter Fifty