Page 4 of Play the Last Card
I still wonder if he meant himself, too.
Mom and dad never made it home.
“I want to see you living, Ivy. Really living. Not taking care of me, or planning lessons for four-year-olds, or spending your weekends talking to old geezers like you do at the bar.” I tighten my fingers around his.
“I am living.” It’s a weak defense at best. I know I’m not. I know Pops is right.
“Playing cards with me on a Sunday and watching old reruns ofFriendsis not living. You need to have fun!”
I smile weakly, the corners of my mouth twitching as I grip his hand in mine. His skin is wrinkly and sun damaged but his hands still show signs of the hard work he did years ago on the field. Scars that haven’t healed quite right. Bones distorted just slightly after being broken over and over again.
I sigh. “Playing cards with you is fun.”
“Oh Ivy. I’ve let you down if you think that is fun. I worry about you.”
Again, I huff, the laughter in my chest bubbling a little. “I worry aboutyou.”
Pops shakes his head at me, smiling as he says, “You are so much like your mother. It still surprises me, even after all these years. She always hovered over you and Matty like you were about to break any minute.”
“I know. And dad would say:you need to live a little.”
“He’d tell you the same.”
“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m old, Ivy. It happens.” He smiles sadly at me, his thumb running over my knuckles as my hand sits tightly in his.
Nan and Pops did their absolute best to raise me. They never made me feel like a burden. They loved me, gave me anything I’d wanted in life, cheered me on as I achieved my goals and picked up the pieces when I’d failed. They never second guessed the decision to raise me after my parents had died. And they had never hidden them from me either. The house is filled with memories of my mom and dad.
I had never not been able to ask questions. I knew what their life was like, their quirks and their habits. My grandparents had painted as vivid of a picture as they could for me growing up.
I knew them as well as I could.
But those memories aren’t my own and the hole in my heart still gapes. It feels as though parts of me are missing and so far, I have had no luck figuring out where to find them.
Though I’ve long since learned how to live with the pain.
I had clung to Pops when Nan passed away a few years ago. It was my freshman year of college. I’d been living in the dorms, partying a bit too hard but studying even harder, when I’d gotten the call. I moved home the next week and hadn’t left again.
Pops is all I have left.
“Don’t say things like that. I need you to live forever.” I try to give him my most convincing watery smile.
He laughs in his low chuckle, reassuring me, “I’ll do my best kiddo.”
The door to his hospital room creaks and a blonde nurse pops her head through the gap, eyeing the two of us softly. “Sorry Ivy, visiting hours ended a while ago and they’ll have my head if they find you here.”
“No worries,” I reply. I turn back to Pops, getting to my feet before pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Ivy …”
“It’s Sunday. We have to play cards. It’s tradition.”
“Fine, but come in the morning. That will leave your afternoon free to go out with some friends.”
“Pops, I—”
“No buts. School goes back soon, then you’ll be too tired out from those rambunctious toddlers you teach. Promise me?”