Page 67 of Goodbye Days

“Bye, Linda,” Nana Betsy says. “Thank you for everything. And Blake says thank you too.”

Linda doesn’t seem to detect the finality in Nana Betsy’s voice, but I do.

We walk out to the car in pensive silence. As for me, I’m pondering hell. I’m wondering if rather than some ardent lake of fire, filled with the shrieking damned, it’s an endless corridor of noiseless, windowless rooms. And inside, each one of the damned sits comfortably on a perfectly ordinary office chair, stares at the bare gray walls, and relives their worst mistake.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Nana Betsy planned well, because she knew we’d need some quiet by this point. So we go to an early movie, which works because she and Blake used to love to go to movies together.

It’s an adaptation of Danny, the Champion of the World. It was one of my favorite books growing up, and I’d been planning to see it anyway. Of course, I usually saw movies with Sauce Crew or Georgia. Yet another way that my life has changed that hadn’t occurred to me until now. Jesmyn might have been game. That seems probable, in fact. Possible wishful thinking on my part.

Nana Betsy and I get a huge tub of popcorn to share. “I don’t blame you a bit if you can’t eat another bite. I sure can’t. But Blake and I always split a big popcorn and tradition is tradition.”

As we sit in the dark and watch, I reflect on the mundane rituals, laid end to end, that form a life. We work to make money and then hopefully use that money to buy ourselves memories with the people we love. Simple things that bring us joy.

I don’t pay much attention with my swirling thoughts, and most of the movie slips past me. Maybe I’ll come see it again with Jesmyn.

Neither of us touches the popcorn.

The movie ends and Nana Betsy pulls herself out of her seat with a groan. “These movie theater seats do a number on me. Getting old is no fun.”

Not getting old is also no fun.

Nana Betsy shuffles toward the exit. “I guess I won’t make it to the movies much anymore. At least until the other grandkids get a little older. I don’t like going alone, and Blake was my movie buddy.” She opens the door to the outside, and we squint in the brilliant afternoon sun after the cool dark of the theater. I wonder for a second if this is how resurrection feels. Stepping out of darkness into blinding light.

As we make our way to the car, Nana Betsy shades her eyes and says, “I always told Blake he should try to find some pretty girl to take to the movies instead of me. He always said ‘No, Nana, I’d rather go with you.’ Truth be told, it makes me a little glad he never found the right girl.” She starts to unlock her door.

And now I have a huge, huge problem.

“Yeah, well you’re gayer than…riding a white pony through a field of dicks,” Eli says to Mars. They crack up again. Eli slaps Blake’s arm as I pull up to Eli’s house. “Come on, bro, you must have one.”

Blake sort of half smiles and shifts in his seat. “Naw, y’all got this.”

“Come on,” Mars says. “Do Blade. Dunk on him.”

“Naw, I got nothing here.”

“You’re losing your edge,” Mars says as he and Eli hop out.

“Your mom is losing her edge,” Blake says.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Mars says.

“Your mom doesn’t even make sense.”

We laugh, and Mars and Eli run up the walk to Eli’s house.

I pull away and start driving to Blake’s house. I’ve never heard him this quiet. I reach over and punch his arm playfully. “It’s cool, dude. We just need to have a gay-joke training montage, where you’re running while I ride a bike, and lifting weights while screaming gay jokes, all in preparation for your redemption from this humiliating defeat.”

Blake chuckles, but his heart’s obviously not in it. “Yeah.”

“I’m kidding with you, man.”

“Yeah.”