If At First

Part 7 - Chapter 6

"Dude! You want Nana to set Tabby up with one of her hundred-year-old friends? Eww!" Nick complained.

"No stupid," Andy answered, "I meant someone her age." He thought for a moment. "Then again, if you find an old fart, maybe he'll die and leave you all his money."

"Andy! That might be the worst thing I've ever heard you say." I reprimanded.

"Really?" He asked, walking out of the room, his mouth full of a cold hot dog. "You haven't been listening very closely."

A puddle-jump and four hour train ride later, I exited the platform and was met by a spare, balding cabbie and his ill-ventilated car. What would normally be a short, twenty minute trip from the station into Townsend felt more like two hours in the small space overwhelmed by "country apple" masking the stale reek of an ashtray. It was also no comfort that the driver's attention was more occupied with the rearview mirror than the road.

"Jim." He said.

"Hi Jim, I'm Tabby."

"Where ya headed?" His raspy voice asked.

"Townsend. 24 Elizabeth."

His eyes were still on me. "You somebody?"

"Nope."

"Everybody in Townsend is somebody."

"I'm not."

"Why're you here if you're not somebody?"

I didn't answer and Jim eventually gave up, likely deciding a "nobody" wasn't worth the effort involved to respire through what was left of his lungs.

The car wound its way through tree covered lanes until it finally reached the quaint town. We followed the main street up to the guarded border that surrounded palatial homes. "This is as far as I can go." He said over his shoulder and popped the trunk without moving to assist. "You can have the guard call someone to carry your bags up." I climbed out to unload my thankfully sparse luggage and stood on the sidewalk savoring the clean air as the cab pulled away. The guard eyed me, and when presented with my destination and ID, was able to confirm that he could allow me past.

My grandmother's house was located only a few streets from the gate, and I approached the impressive Queen Anne -without the assistance of the guard- in a state of absolute awe. A feeling of dread washed over me as I looked up at the turrets, porches, and stained glass windows. It reminded me of a gingerbread house; something normally meant to conjure pleasant emotions. Instead I felt like Hansel and Gretel walking naively into the witch's cottage. Under any other circumstance I would be able to appreciate the beauty of the perfectly manicured yards and gardens, but not this time. This was like nothing I remembered from my childhood.

I can do this. It will be a good experience. I'll learn more about my mother. I'll appreciate the time spent with family. "I can do this", I repeated to myself. I am an adult.