I thought about it a minute and finally asked, “Did her brother have the cord around his neck
when he was born?”
He shook his head.
“Well, then …”
He leaned forward even farther and whispered, “You did.”
“I did?”
He nodded. “Twice.”
“But …”
“The doctor who delivered you was on the ball, plus apparently there was some slack in the
cord, so he was able to loop it off as you came out.
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You didn't hang yourself coming into the world, but it could very easily have gone the other
way.”
If I'd been told years or even weeks ago that I'd come down the chute noosed and ready to
hang, I'd have made some kind of joke about it, or
more likely I'd have said, Yeah, that's nice; now can you spare me the discussion?
But after everything that had happened, I was really freaking out, and I couldn't escape the
questions tidal-waving my brain. Where would I be if
things had been different? What would they have done with me? From the way my dad was
talking, he wouldn't have had much use for me, that's for
sure. He'd have stuck me in a nuthouse somewhere, any where, and forgotten about me. But
then I thought, No! I'm his kid. He wouldn't do that …
would he?
I looked around at everything we had — the big house, the white carpet, the antiques and
artwork and stuff that was everywhere. Would they have
given up all the stuff to make my life more pleasant?
I doubted it, and man, I doubted it big-time. I'd have been an embarrassment. Something to
try to forget about. How things looked had always
been a biggie to my parents. Especially to my dad.
Very quietly my granddad said, “You can't dwell on what might have been, Bryce.” Then, like
he could read my mind, he added, “And it's not fair to
condemn him for something he hasn't done.”
I nodded and tried to get a grip, but I wasn't doing a very good job of it. Then he said, “By the
way, I appreciated your comment before.”
“What?” I asked, but my throat was feeling all pinched and swollen.
“About your grandmother. How did you know that?”
I shook my head and said, “Juli told me.”
“Oh? You spoke with her, then?”
“Yeah. Actually, I apologized to her.”
“Well…!”
“And I was feeling a lot better about everything, but now … God, I feel like such a jerk again.”
“Don't. You apologized, and that's what matters.” He stood up and said, “Say, I'm in the
mood for a walk. Want to join me?”
Go for a walk? What I wanted to do was go to my room, lock the door, and be left alone.
“I find it really helps to clear the mind,” he said, and that's when I realized that this wasn't just
a walk — this was an invitation to do something
together.
I stood up and said, “Yeah. Let's get out of here.”
For a guy who'd only basically ever said Pass the salt to me, my granddad turned out to be a
real talker. We walked our neighborhood and the
