Cemetery Street

"You Okay?" Shannie asked from behind when I finished.

"You satisfied?" I barked, head buried in the sink. My voice acidic. Tears rushed down my face - sweat soaked my body. "You just had to see it."

"Where does she keep the Pine-sol?" Shannie asked.

"Are you happy," I continued. "I bet this made your day."

"I need a bucket. Where does she keep it?"

"What do you care?"

She stared at me for a second. "If you want to be a drama queen go ahead. It's okay with me. But someone has to clean up the mess. It would really be cruel if your father or your grandfather. God forbid if your mother got stuck doing it. Seeing how things are done around here, that wouldn't surprise me." Her words were razor sharp. "If you don't want to help me, at least get the FUCK out of my way."

I pointed beneath the sink as I stepped aside.

"Good."

Times like these Shannie seemed an old spirit. In the blink of an eye, she transformed from giddy teenager to a I'm going to twist the nads off life mentality. Maybe it was the navel gazing mood - maybe it was PMS. As she fished under the sink for the supplies, I thought of that Sunday she faced the onrushing train - God, I loved her composure.

With the same composure she put my grandfather in his place. When he and dad returned from the hospital, he yelled: "James, get your ass down here, now!" He seen the bathroom light from the road. "I told you to say out of the bathroom," he continued. The floorboards creaked under his impatient footfalls. Not waiting for me he started up the steps.

"Let me handle this," Shannie said.

"Hi Stan," she perked stepping into the hallway. "How's Mary doing?" The stairs fell silent under him.

"Oh," he paused. "Shannie it's you."

"In the flesh." She answered.

"She's stable."

"I'm sorry about the baby."

"Thank you. Mary will appreciate the sentiments. Where's that grandson of mine?"

Paralyzed with fear, I stopped scrubbing the tile.

"Do the doctors know what happened?" Shannie's voice peppered with concern. Her drama classes were paying off.

"Placentia Abruptus." he said.

"What's that?" Shannie asked.

Thick silence filled the air. I could almost here my grandfather's thoughts: how the hell do I know, I know is I lost a grandchild today and almost lost my daughter. What he said was, "The doctor said something about something and then something happened. I don't know."