I heard the door creak open and a more shriveled version of the man in the picture peered out. "Are you just gunna loiter in front of my house all day or what?" He said sternly. I glanced down at the ground, my words caught in my throat, then back at him, "Oh, I- I'm sorry, I don't know if you rememb-" "Of course I remember my only granddaughter, Max" He smirked and came off the porch towards me with his arms open. "Oh." I remarked, surprised, and opened my arms to receive the hug. "What are you doing here... and with luggage?" he looked down at the bags, I instantly started crying. "I'm, I'm so sorry, I didn't know where else to go, I-I can't go back home..." I broke down in front of him. "Oh sweetie, no no, it's ok! Come inside, come inside." he grabbed my duffle with one hand and use his other to lead me into the house. He fixed me a cup of tea and sat next to me in the living room in his recliner.
I told him everything, I felt obligated. About Angela and how much I loved her, and how it was probably only a matter of time before they found out anyways, and then I would have been in the same situation. He sighed, I figured he was about to tell me he didn't want me there either, or that he'd start yelling like my dad did. "I don't know where I went wrong with that boy of mine..." he shook his head. "You can stay here as long as you want, I mean hell, I welcome the company! After your daddy stopped talking to me a few years ago it's been awful lonely." He patted my thigh reassuringly. I smiled, sniffled, and sipped my tea. "If you haven't talked to him in so long how did you know I go by Max now?" "Ah, well just because we didn’t talk doesn’t mean I didn’t have a way to keep up with you." He pulled up a laptop from next to his chair. He opened it and tapped a few buttons then turned the screen to face me, it was one of my social media accounts. "You know this technology is amazing these days, I kept watch over you, your family, so at least I could see you every once in awhile. ‘Cause God knows I wanted to." He smiled and I smiled, the picture on my profile was a picture of Angela and I.
We became a big part of each other’s lives. He became the understanding father figure I never had, and my best friend. I learned that the reason my father had broken ties with him was because he was a distinguished scientist and my grandma had been a hardcore Christian, they both taught him each side and though they had things they agreed and disagreed on they never fought about it. My father strongly chose my grandma's side, and once she passed away my father became really bitter towards my grandfather. Talking to him less and less until not at all. My grandpa said he'd always been a stubborn boy but he still loved him, even now after being disowned.
After settling in I tried tracking down Angela online but she had basically disappeared, I later learned that her and her family moved out of state,last thing anybody heard from her she was being sent to a camp where they”pray the gay away. I started going to an alternative high school for my senior year, the learning was basically out of packets and online and I only had to go in once a week. There were maybe 5 kids in the class but I didn’t really make friends with any of them. With my grandpas help I got my GED in half the time. He even taught me how to drive his beat up old car. We’d watch tons of old movies and would just talk for hours. He'd discuss scientific theories and teach me things I would have never learned in school. He had a massive library full of books on every topic imaginable. We’d read them together and he would go on about the stuff that was junk and what was truth.
A while after graduating I got a part time job at a music store down the road from my grandpa's house, even though he told me I didn't need to waste my time with that because he'd take care of me. It wasn't long after that that the tables turned and it was me taking care of him. At first he was having a harder time getting around, his legs didn’t work as well and so he got a walker, he’d grumble every time I tried to help him saying "Oh don't you fuss over me." and shooing me with his hand. A few months later he had to get an oxygen tank to help him breath. First off he just needed it just at night and then he needed it 24/7, and more than once he had to go to the hospital to get fluid pumped out of his lungs. He would still drag himself into the library and work on stuff he was writing and tell me about the universe with his weak raspy voice. He'd cough a lot and I'd rush to him with water, "Oh don't you fuss over me." I started working less and less until not at all because he needed me at home, I would cook and clean and take care of him. It got to a point where he would lay in bed all day long and I would bring him his books from the library and he'd type away on his laptop, I'd hear him strain trying to get out of bed and I'd have to help him to the bathroom, weakly, he'd laugh and between breaths he'd say "Oh, don't you, fuss over, me."
One morning I went into his room with breakfast on a tray, "Alright I got the good stuff, Pops" he didn’t turn and sit up like usual. I set down the tray on his nightstand and saw his oxygen mask sitting on it. He didn't look right. I went over and touched his skin and it was cold, I hurriedly turned him over and his eyes were closed. I put my hand under his nose and there was no breath coming out. I touched his cold neck and couldn't find a pulse. I cried and through my tears managed to call an ambulance. When they got to the house they told me he had passed in his sleep, his mask likely fell off and he stopped breathing, but his mask was set on his nightstand, so I knew he had to have taken it off himself. After they took his body away I noticed his laptop halfway open next to where he was facing, I opened it and saw on the document he had been writing the last paragraph had been stopped mid sentence, he'd tabbed down a few lines and wrote, "She called me to heaven. Don't you fuss." I smiled and cried, closing the laptop and placing back on his bed.
In the kitchen I picked up the phone and dialed my old home number, the line rang, and rang, I could feel my voice quivering before I even spoke. "Hello." I heard the deep baritone of a voice I hadn't heard in over a year. "It's-" I didn't want to say who I was, I didn't want to feel the hurt of him hanging up on me, a tear rolled down my cheek "Yes? Hello, who is this?" he said sternly. I adjusted my voice so it didn’t sound like me,"I'm sorry to tell you that your father has passed." I waited a few seconds, hoping I could hear some sadness in his voice, some humanity so I could say who I was, so I could try to see them again. There was several seconds of silence. "Hmm, good." and then dial tone. I yelled angrily and threw the phone at the ground, the plastic casing shattered on the tile. I sunk down the wall onto the floor and held my knees, screaming and crying into them.
A lawyer came the next day and read Pops’ will, he was donating a nice portion of his money to a few charities but most of it was to go to me, even the royalties he got from the several books he wrote would go straight into an account that was now mine, the house, everything in it was mine as well. While it was surprising to see how well off he actually was, none of this was at all comforting to me. He wanted to be cremated and so that's all I did, I didn't hold a funeral, I didn't think he'd want one anyways, we were both lonely, we were both all the other had. I picked up the urn from the mortuary and buckled it into the passenger’s seat next to me, "I'll take care of you Pops." It was almost like I could hear him reply, "Don't you fuss."