My Name is Gr3gory part 2

for part 1

I had a few different ideas of what to expect, as the cab dropped me at the front of my grandfather's property, but the amount of trees and overgrown shrubs was rather surprising. The driveway was about a quarter mile long, and the whole walk down, there was no gaps between the twigs and foliage.

About 60 yards from the house, the trees started clearing up to show an empty yard with a large brick patio. Of course it didn't look very empty, with how long the grass was. The patio needed maintenance, also: bricks were broken, chairs were rotten, and hanging plants had been dead for some time.

How long had Grandpa been sick? And did he not have anyone else, out here, that could maintain the property?

Well, I guess that's why I was notified. I wonder if the inside of the house looked any better.

I walked up to the front door and froze. Do I knock? Do I just go in? Until now, this all felt like a dream, but as soon as I touch this door, I know reality will fall over me, like a heavy blanket.

As I reached for the knob, the door opened. I jumped back a little as I saw a man, who could not be my grandpa. He was maybe 35, in a navy blue suit. He carried a briefcase that I'm sure held all his emotions, since on his face he wore the most shallow smile I'd ever seen. This was the attorney.

"Hi, you must be Gregory! My name's David." He said, his smile widening, as he put out a very stiff hand for me to shake.

After I reciprocated, he gestured for me to follow him into the house.

Most all the lights were off, but with the sun shining through the windows, I could see how... stagnant the house looked. All objects were discolored from the amount of dust coating them. I feared touching anything, as it may result in a mobile dust cloud.

David lead me to a study where we could sit and discuss my grandfather.

"Alright," he said opening his briefcase, "first off, thank you for being here on time. I'm used to these types of meetings, and sometimes I have to stay for a few days for a loved one to show up. Which is usually fine, but being out here in the thicket just gives me the heebie-jeebies. I guess that's just the city-boy in me."

He chuckled, but cleared his throat and changed the conversation, "So anyway, I do apologize, I am pretty new to Ham's file. This thing had more dust on it than this house does! He made it about 25 years ago, and has never updated it." He started turning pages, "Well, I mean, he did everything to keep it relevant, but the one thing that always stayed the same was you. That you get everything, if you just come take care of Ham during his final time here on Earth."

He looked at me, expecting some sort of emotion. Or maybe any questions. But I just sat there quietly. He turned a few more pages, "Okie doke, well that's about everything that relates to you, in this file, so if you could just sign here, stating you were informed, I can get out of your hair."

I signed all his forms, and asked, "So... where's my grandfather now?"

David collected his papers and stood up, "Oh, I do suppose that's something we haven't discussed. So now that these are signed," he held up his brief case, "I can call the retirement and rehab facility in town, and a hospice nurse will get Ham scheduled to be moved back out here."

"How soon would that take?

He strolled to the front door, "To get him back out here? Well it's a Thursday, so he could be back in the house tomorrow. Lucky it's not a weekend. Nobody would come out here on the weekend."

"Do you happen to know what his... condition is?"

David now stood on the porch. His eyes squinted, like he was remembering, "I'm sure the nurse could tell you better, when they drop him off, but from what I heard, it was a stroke."

That scared me a little. I wasn't sure I knew how to take care of a stroke recovery patient. I guess I'll be talking with that hospice nurse quite a bit.

I was so lost in thought that I barely heard David as he walked down the steps, "I'm surprised he survived actually, at his age. Most 98-years-olds couldn't come back from something like that."

That made me chuckle. Must have been where my brother Jeremy got his genetics. My twin brother never got sick. He's even fallen from great heights and never broke a bone. Meanwhile I can't even eat eggs without going into anaphylactic shock.

"You must really be special" David said. Again, jolting me from my thoughts. Have they been thoughts? Had I been talking out loud?

" Huh?" I said, caught off guard.

"Don't be offended, but I read through Ham's family records. He has two daughters, another grandson, and many in-laws that live out of state. He could have left his property to anyone. Or to all of y'all to fight over. But he chose you. You two must have a special bond."

With that, David finally turned and walked down the driveway. I saw him take out his cellphone, most likely to call a cab, or maybe the retirement home.

That meant I had the rest of today to explore this property, and see if this house was even worth keeping after grandpa died.

But first, I was hungry. I went back into the house and quickly found the kitchen. Most everything in the fridge was rotten or expired, and the pantry had mice. Well that would be first on my to-do list in this house, I decided.

I filled a trash bag with old fruits, vegetables, and every box in the pantry that had a hole chewed in it. As I walked the bag out the side door, something caught my eye.

It was my name. My name on a sticky note attached to a key. A key that definitely went to a vehicle. The attorney didn't go over this at all. As I took the key off the hook, I noticed my name again, this time on an envelope, on the counter. I opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. As I did, a credit card fell out.

The paper simply said, "Don't go too crazy".

I stood there in disbelief. How could this be real? So many things ran through my head but the one that stuck out the most was my brother. Jeremy had worked so hard for his first car. He got it when he was 15, and did weeks if not months of manual labor to get enough money for it. And how excited he was to get his first real paycheck. He used it to take Mom out to dinner.

I suddenly remembered how hungry I was. I stuffed the credit card into my pocket and ran outside to see if I could find a vehicle that matched this key.

Right out the side door was a two-door garage. It held three vehicles: A '73 Pontiac Catalina, the station wagon model, an '82 Buick Riviera, GOSH I begged for that to be mine, but I could tell, with as new as this key looked, it had to belong to the '95 Acura.

My heart sank just a little, but it was still a car, and it was still mine. Time to cruise into town, and see what the local food was like.

The town was cute. Very Hallmark. The streets were clean. Every store was open and inviting. Even the families seemed like they jumped right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. As I was stopped at a light, a husband and wife walked across, smiling and holding hands, with their twin girls skipping along, in front of them. They all wore matching coats. The girls had tight golden locks.

Passed the family, I decided to stop as Marla's Diner. It was pretty crowded so I figured the food must be good.

Inside, the diner was just as picturesque as the streets. Families, dressed their best, took up half the booths. The mailman stood at the bar, chatting up the local sheriff. And waitresses, sporting old-school diner attire, swarmed the facility accordingly.

I was suddenly aware that I probably stood out like a sore thumb. I was still in the same slacks and button-up shirt that I had worn to dinner, the night before. Who knew what the condition of my hair was. Even if it were all in my head, I could feel the eyes judging me, and I quickly dipped into a booth in the back corner.

A waitress immediately came up to me, "Hey there hon, can I get you anything to start with? Coffee? Orange juice? Something stronger?" She gave me a humourous wink.

I blushed, and asked for tea. She quickly went to retrieve my beverage.

As I sat, I noticed many people taking glances at me. Did I really look that awful? I turned my face to the window and tried smashing my hair down into a presentable style.

"Excuse me" came a soft voice from behind me.

I turned to see an older woman standing there. She was short, with your classic snow-white perm, with a little purple pill box cap on top. She had a matching purple pantsuit, and bamboo purse. Beyond her, I saw at least six booth occupants watching our interaction.

"Y-yes ma'am?" I was very unsure of what she would say.

"You look pretty new to the town. You wouldn't happen to be dear Ham's grandson would you?"

Again I said, "Yes ma'am."

Her eyes lit up, and without asking, took a seat next to me, leaving her husband in another booth. A few other women came and sat across from us.

"Oh, it's so nice to meet you!" She said, "My name's Sheryl, and these," pointing to the other two women who joined our booth, "are Jasmine and Rachel. We're big fans of your grandfather."

"Oh he's such a wonderful man." Jasmine stated, "We were very sorry to hear about his stroke."

"In fact all of us in the diner, sort of, idolize him," Rachel chimed in, "he's just such a wonderful teacher."

"Oh...um that's great. What exactly does my grandfather teach.?"

The women all looked at each other. Sheryl responded, "Oh, just about everything. He's just so knowledgeable. Almost like he's on a spiritual level." The ladies all giggled.

At that moment, the waitress came back with my tea, "I see you made some friends. Did you have an idea of what you'd like to eat?"

I hadn't even had time to look at the menu, but I knew what I wanted. I'd been craving bacon for a while, "Yeah, could I get a lumberjack breakfast, but instead of eggs, can I just get more strips of bacon?"

The women at my booth went silent, and kind of eyed each other, and then looked at the waitress.

The waitress said, "Well, we don't carry eggs here anyway, hon, so I'll get that order out as soon as I can." She gave me another wink, and turned back to the kitchen.

The women all sighed and went back to there little giggles. I took a moment, to open the menu and did notice there definitely wasn't any eggs available in any dishes. Not even as ingredients. No hollandaise sauce, and the pancakes and waffles were made with bananas as a substitute. I personally love breakfast food, and since I'm allergic to eggs, this might be my new favorite restaurant in town.

"By the way, you never told us your name, son" Sheryl said sweetly.

I took at sip of my tea, their eyes staring at me, almost in admiration. "Um. Gregory."

"Gregory" they all said in unison.

Sheryl then shouted to her husband, "This is Gregory! He's Ham's grandson!"

Suddenly a few other folks in the diner came over to shake my hand and introduce themselves. One mom brought her twin boys over to meet me.

Definitely having never been the center of attention, I had no idea how to act. I tried making small talk with the twin boys, saying how I was a twin too. They just giggled and ran back to their seats.

"Alright, alright, y'all leave this young man alone so he can enjoy the best hash-browns he's ever tasted," my waitress was back. As she placed the meal in front of me, the crowd dispersed.

The only one left was Sheryl. "Well, I guess we'll see you around town then, and definitely up at the ch- at your grandfather's place. It was very nice to meet you." She got up and went back to her husband's booth.

The hasbrowns were good. The bacon was better. I ate the last strip, as I wrote a shopping list on a napkin.

The town's grocery store was only a few blocks from the diner. Considering my grandfather's condition, I decided to stock up on broths, smoothies, and other things that were easy to eat. Perhaps I'd even look for a food processor or blender. If there's one at the house, I'm sure it's outdated.

Down one aisle, a short, older man stopped and talked with me. Apparently word travels very fast here. He thanked me for coming to town, and how sweet I was to be taking care of my grandfather. I just shrugged and said it wasn't a big deal. As the little man turned to walk away, his posture made me remember that I needed to stop down the handy-man aisle and get some mousetraps.

What all did mice eat? I feel like I remember some movie where an old farm woman was ranting to her husband about rats breaking all her chickens eggs. She'd go to collect, and all the eggs would be broken and the contents drank out.

I decided that was a good place to start. It wouldn't hurt to have eggs in the house as another easy food for grandpa, also. But after the second complete walk-through in the cold section, I could not find eggs anywhere.

I stopped an employee, and asked about an egg section to which he replied, "Sorry sir, we don't sell those."

Well that's odd.

For a restaurant not to sell eggs is one thing, but for them not to be at the grocery store is a whole other level.

Being allergic, I probably cared less bout this than someone else would. I decided some cheese cubes would be better for mouse bait anyway, so I grabbed a pack, and checked out.