aloycius

My grandmother was never really home. She was somewhere else, away from the big house we both shared. I would joke and say, "Off to never neverland again, Mimi?" and she would always smile the way grandmothers do, her hand resting on the storm door handle, replying, "Neverland is thursdays, dear. I'll be home to make us dinner. Eight O'Clock, don't be late!" I would smile at her every time, even though she could not see it. Even though I never meant to. Then she was out the door, not seen again until the street lamps lit up.
Some people might have placed heavier thought on the whereabouts of their dear grandmother. But I, a young woman of nearly seventeen years then, would only overlook the idea of her vanishing on a regular basis. Perhaps I had grown so used to it that I really believed she had left to some mysterious world nobody had ever seen but her, never thinking twice about it's ambiguity.

"Nicole, have you seen my sandles? The dog, he must have ran off with them again," Mimi said, frantically looking over the living room floor.
"No, I haven't." Sitting in the chair I so often called mine, I was watching television, ignoring Mimi when she stood in front of my view of Joel and Melissa on the screen.
She looked under the couch, under the chair adjacent to mine that had rightfully been hers, and even under cushions and pillows. She began to speak aloud, clearly due to her old age. "They've got to be somewhere. They've got to be. Sandles don't just grow legs and scamper off!"
"I don't know, Mimi..." I said, "I'm trying to watch this."
Looking as though she ignored it, (and it is possible she did not hear it,) Mimi conveniently retired from her prolonged search for her beloved slippers, and went downstairs, muttering unheard words.

Percy, my black labrador, four years old at the time, was licking the salty palms of my hands as I served them out. I was sitting on the front steps, allowing the sun's comfortable summer glow to touch my otherwise untouched skin. I was quite lonely that day, regardless of Percy's unrelenting company. Mimi was the only person I knew outside of school, and she was hardly there to be known. Truth was, my social life was practically non-existent, and that's actually making it seem extravagent. It might have been because I grew up alone, never once having played with other children. It's harder to open up the longer you wait, I guess.
The big star that had been lavishing my face was already getting low in the sky, prospecting the moon's arrival to relieve it. Percy, who also had been bathing in the orange light that had once been quite yellow, then seemed to lose interest in my hands. His ears pricked up, and he looked around impulsively, as if a series of loud noises surrounded him, borrowing his attention. He ran off, over the sidewalk and down the street. I got up, of course, and pursued him. "Percy!" I called as I watched him outperform my sprints. Into a field, one that seemed to deviate from the neighborhood pattern, a pattern where houses stood cooperatively alongside eachother, Percy crossed the grass as if aching to be like the dog he had seen on television, the one that rescued people in perilous danger.

I lagged behind, although I saw where he had stopped - in front of a tree that seemed to have seen many harrowing years. Percy stood at it's base, his mouth hanged open and his tongue was drawn out, panting, as dogs do. When I reached where he stood, I laid my eyes on the tree that, much closer now, seemed even older than it had in the distance. Something had been etched into the bark, an ancient inscription that seemed nearly as old as the tree: "Mary & James Forever"
Mimi's name was "Mary". For a few moments I looked upon the writing deep in thought. Then, unexpectedly, and almost too appropriately, I heard her voice. It was a quiet voice, but it lingered behind the tree. Her words sounded sad, desperate; the way my Mother's did just before she died.
"You look wonderful, you always do, Jim," I heard her say, tears practically dripping from her sickened breath. After a strange pause, she said at length, "Oh thank you." I did not understand everything at the time (and I do not understand all of it now,) but I accepted the fact that she had been speaking to someone. Someone, it appeared, only she could hear. "I worried I would be late. I couldn't find my sandles, so I had to come barefoot." She laughed. "The neighbors must think I'm a nut. But, I didn't want to miss you, Jim. I've missed you before, and I didn't see you again for a long time."