Free A Guide to the Other Side by Robert Imfeld Page A

to say anything if you don’t want to.”
    Elmira clenched her covers. “He doesn’t want to talk to me,” she said in a small, tense voice. “He’s mad at me.”
    Louie nodded.
    â€œUhh,” I said awkwardly. “Yeah, he’s nodding.”
    She reached for the tissue box on the Formica table next to her bed, speaking in a calm, controlled voice that made me think she was seconds away from totally losing it. “It’s my fault he’s dead. I’m such a careful driver. I always check the road three times to make sure everything’s clear before I go at a green light. And that day . . . this guy came out of nowhere.”
    â€œThat’s not why I’m mad,” Louie said quickly.
    â€œHe’s not mad about that,” I said just as quickly, hoping to staunch her crying.
    â€œHe’s not?” she asked, horrified. “What else is there?”
    â€œTell her I’m mad that she stopped going to the park. I’m mad that she stopped playing cards with her friends and going dancing. I’m mad that a nice old man asked her to dinner last month and she said no.” He turned to me, his eyes bulging. “I’m mad that she’s using me as an excuse to stop living.”
    I paused for a moment, trying to figure out if there was a way to deliver his message that wouldn’t totally crush her soul. Maybe if I just sounded casual enough . . .
    If I thought I was phrasing my words gently, Elmira’s reaction immediately tipped me off that I didn’t do a good enough job. She wailed, profusely, for ten minutes, doing her best impression of a hungry newborn baby. Four times I had to turn the nurses away with some vague excuse.
    â€œThis is the worst message I’ve ever given,” I said to Kristina out of the corner of my mouth.
    â€œJust wait,” Kristina said.
    Louie’s anger had reconstituted itself as concern after he saw his grandma’s reaction, and he’d climbed into bed next to her. Several times she’d massaged the spot on her arm where his head was touching.
    Finally, once her sobs had sputtered out, she caught her breath and looked at me.
    â€œWhere is he?” she said. “I want to look at him for a moment. Or I want him to look right at me.”
    â€œHe’s right next to you,” I said. “He’s the reason why your arm’s been tingling.”
    She gasped. “Is that so?”
    She looked down at the nothing beside her, the nothing that used to be her everything, and she smiled.
    â€œLouie, I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right. I’ve been dishonoring your memory by sulking at home for the last year. This guilt, though, it’s just . . . so unlike anything I’ve felt. I can’t escape it.”
    â€œTell her it wasn’t her fault. She was taking me to get ice cream at the park that day. She’s the best grandma ever.”
    When I repeated his words, Elmira smiled, still trying to spot her grandson next to her. “It was going to be such a good day. You and your orangesicles.”
    â€œYou need to have more of those good days, Grandma! Don’t think of me and be sad. Think of me and be happy about all the memories we made.”
    As I said that to her, she seemed in danger of howling again, but she held it together.
    â€œI love you,” Louie said. And with his message delivered, he faded away.
    â€œHe’s gone,” I said. “But the last thing he said was ‘I love you.’”
    â€œI know,” she said. “I could feel it.”
    â€œWell, that was intense,” I said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. That happens sometimes with these messages.”
    â€œNo, no, are you kidding?” she said. “Come here and give me a hug, Baylor Bosco.”
    As I hugged Elmira, a horrible sensation came over me and, like I’d touched a hot pan, I shot away from her, a distant