We ate the cake 20 minutes later.
Grandma refused a full share.
Then she ate half of mine.
She stayed for less than two hours.
That was all her body could take.
By the time my uncle pushed her towards the door, her face had turned completely pale again.
I was walking beside him.
« Was it worth it? »
She looked at me as if I had asked the stupidest question of my life.
» Obviously. «
« The journey almost killed you. »
« At 101, almost everything kills you. »
« Grandma. »
She took my hand.
« I wasn’t going to stay home just because it was difficult. »
I swallowed.
« You could have gotten sick. »
« I could get sick even in my armchair. »
I had nothing to say in response to that.
Near the car, she glanced towards the garden.
Lily was sitting in the grass, squashing birthday cake between her two hands.
Grandma smiled.
» So. «
» What ? «
« That’s what I wanted. »
» What ? «
She pointed weakly.
« One of your own. »
I looked at my daughter.
Then I remembered the photo.
Me, at four years old.
On Grandma’s doorstep.
The dress she had made for me.
« I thought you wanted a picture of her on your front steps. »
» It’s true. «
« You just said that’s what you wanted. »
« I can want two things. »
At her age, apparently, she was still negotiating.
We put him in the car.
It took both my uncle and Mark getting involved.
Before the door closed, she called me.
I leaned over.
« The round is over. »
I looked at the box.
» I’ll try. «
» No. «
His hand tightened around mine.
« Don’t try. Finish her. »
That was indeed my grandmother.
She left.
I stood on the road crying until his car disappeared.
Three days later, Mom and I went to Grandma’s house.
She was exhausted from the party.
Not sick.
She slept almost all week.
I took the sewing box with me.
Just like the unfinished dress.
I bought a beginner’s sewing kit.
It was humiliating.
I watched some videos.
I called Mom.
My mother was somehow even worse than me.
« I thought Grandma had taught you. »
« She tried. »
« What happened? »
« I hated it. »
» Me too. «
Apparently, we came from a long line of women who benefited from another woman’s know-how while refusing to learn it.
Finally, my uncle found my grandmother’s old sewing machine in a cupboard.
Grandma could no longer use it, but she could still criticize.
I brought her the dress.
She examined my first attempt at the sleeve.
« This stitching is awful. »
» I know. «
« Undo that. »
« It took me two hours. »
« Then you’ll be faster the second time. »
I gave him a dark look.
She smiled.
I worked on this dress for six weeks.
Not every day.
Usually, after Lily has fallen asleep.
Sometimes for 20 minutes.
Sometimes until midnight.
I redid the round twice.
The pass, three times.
One evening, I was so frustrated that I almost put everything back in the box and decided that « unfinished » had sentimental value.
That’s when I heard Grandma’s voice in my head.
« Finish her off. »
That’s what I did.
When Lily was 13 months old, she was taken to her grandmother’s.
I put the cream dress on her.
It suited her almost perfectly.
The hem was a little long.
My sleeves weren’t as neat as my grandmother’s.
Far from it.
But it was well sewn.
Lily was carried to the front steps.
The same step as in the photo next to Grandma’s armchair.
Grandma was already waiting in the doorway, in her wheelchair.
Mom was standing next to her, holding the old photo of me.
I put Lily on the floor.
She immediately tried to crawl away.
« Of course, » I said.
Mom laughed.
« Put something in front of her. »
Grandma said, « Give him a button. »
» No. «
« A big one. »
» No. «
« You’re not funny. »
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