Ashley Henyan
Channel Surfing
We stopped speaking to my paternal grandparents
when I was eleven. I don't know why. I think it had to something do with
money. One day, out of the blue, my mother declared we were done with
them. This made her exuberance over the distribution of our inheritance
even more disturbing. Disturbing, but not surprising. You see my mother
had quite a knack for disturbing.
Grandma Jane died four or five years ago.
I think she outlived most of the
money. Grandpa Rock died four or five weeks ago.
I know he outlived all of the
money. The day Grandpa Rock died was the day my mother became obsessed
with her self-assigned position as Heirloom Superintendent.
It was all she spoke of during
our phone conversations and I was sick of hearing how excited she was to
“get down to Florida” so she could give me “a few of Jane's things.”
It had been relatively quiet all morning but
that would soon change. Mom and Dad were scheduled to arrive any minute–
inheritance in-tow. And although
there wasn't enough Vodka in the world, I headed to the liquor store in
hopes of re-stocking my emergency supply.
Fuck! We practically ran right into each other in the
parking lot. Oh Jesus, I'm just not in the mood.
Normally I would surrender to her narcissistic
charm. Normally I would agree with everything she said.
Normally I would pretend not to notice the inhumane way in which
she treated my father. But I guess today wasn't normal. I took one look
at Dad and became emotionally ill. He obeyed her every command like a
well-trained service dog. Look
he has the word HEARTBREAK tattooed on the front of his face. He
hadn't spoken to either of his parents in over 15 years.
HEARTBREAK isn't a tattoo,
it’s graffiti. His emptiness was a paralyzing virus, so potent it
could spread with one glance. My father and I were both infected and
suddenly my desperation to find a cure became overwhelming.
"Hey best Mom in the world." My sarcastic tone
went un-noticed.
"Hi Dad!" A lifelong curse of helplessness
overshadowed his large frame. Hugging him felt like being buried alive.
I could not get out of his arms fast enough.
Now I'm not sure if it was the Vodka talking or
maybe I hadn’t drank enough. And
I don't know if it was God or the Devil who gave me a pep talk. But
right then and there, in my shitty apartment parking lot, I did
something I’d never done before. I dared defy my mother.
"You think you can hand out a bunch of shit
people we used to know used to own, and pretend everything's normal!?
I’m done! I’m done
pretending anything is normal! You
may not remember mother but I majored in biology, not acting. I don't
have the skills required to continue this…this…this ridiculous
charade!!"
"Oh Shelly, for your father's sake, would ya
relax."
Less than a minute in and she was threatening
to cry. It was an act I'd seen way too many times.
"My father? My father has no parents; don’t you
get it?”
"Your father needs to pick out a headstone for
the grave."
"Seriously? Could you at least let him pick out
a fucking headstone on his own!"
"Oh come on, you know very well it won’t get
done unless I get on his ass about it. He can't do anything on his own."
"Just stop."
"He gets dumber and dumber every day. Do you
know what he did on the drive here? We stopped for gas in North Carolina
and I decided to let him drive for a while. I close my eyes for fifteen
minutes and realize your stupid father had gotten on 95-North."
"Come on Mom, give him a break."
"Forty-five minutes outta the way! That's
counting stopping at the same exit again on our way back thru so he
could take a shit. Selfish bastard!”
"YOU STOP!!!"
I was screaming right along with her and found it necessary to
reach through the driver’s side window and lay on the horn. Choosing the
car horn as my accompanist sent neighbors onto balconies to watch our
family feud. Maybe the horn was a little too much, huh Shel?
Oh shut up.
As soon as she noticed an audience my mother
lowered her voice, "Stan. Are you gonna to let her speak to me like
that? I don’t have time for this shit. Let’s go.”
Dad was holding three bags of groceries and a
duck-taped-up shoe box. He
remained at full alert near the trunk of the car.
He's waiting for her to tell
him to shut the trunk. Totally. Would
you two please SHUT UP!
"Jesus Christ Stan! What are you waiting for?
Leave her shit on the ground. Let’s GO! See Shelly.
He's a complete moron. You have
no idea the hell I have to live in."
With that she slammed her door, he dropped
everything, and they sped off like two teenage boys. That was fast.
Maybe a record? Yeah, maybe.
The shoe box wasn't that big or heavy, so I
carried it with me to the liquor store, bought the Vodka, and opened
both on the way home. What about the groceries? She doesn't want
them. I don't want them! By
the time I entered my 900 square foot piece of paradise I had
officially inherited the following items:
A book about John Lennon. Ok…apparently one of them was into the
Beatles.
A diamond bracelet. Whatever, she had tons.
A few unsigned Babe Ruth rookie cards.
Your brother probably got all
the good stuff. Oh I'm sure he did.
A framed photograph of my parents. Your mother is unbelievable! I
know.
A little glass bottle of perfume. Kinda strange huh? Yup. Yeah,
totally strange.
I poured more Vodka into my glass.
Not your typical inheritance, but what bothered
me was I could not recall Grandma Jane being a perfume enthusiast. Even
if she was, this bottle did not look like her typical perfume. I think
she wore Chanel. Yes, Chanel No. 5. She was a classy woman and
owned a spectacular collection of clothing, jewelry, shoes, and perfume.
But I sort of remember shoes being her thing. Yes, I was certain, she
was way more into shoes than perfume. Where
are all the shoes?
I searched the bottle for that familiar Chanel
logo. All I found was a
little painting of Mary and Baby Jesus. Grandma Jane went to church?
Beats me. Mary and Baby Jesus
were hand painted in two colors– black and blue. Grandma Jane
never went to church. Your face would be black and blue if your mother
was in a really bad mood today. Yeah, thanks for the reminder. Oh come
on, cheer up. I just mean
you’re probably having a lucky day! Whatever.
More Vodka.
I attempted to unscrew the top but couldn't for
the life of me get it off. Ha! This bottle top looks just like a
silver nipple. It was completely stuck. The damn thing must have
been put on ages ago. More Vodka.
Weird huh? Yup,
this bottle is kinda shaped like an urn. Minus the ashes add the Channel
No. 5. That's funny, Ha Ha!
Channel 5, get it Shel? Should we write that down? Will you two please
SHUT UP!
More Vodka.
Was she even cremated? Like any of us would
talk to Dad about something like that. How has no one heard if she was
buried or cremated? Whatever it’s obviously not ashes, you moron. The
bottle is clear… you can see inside. Could it be clear ashes? Ok this
nipple top is finally loose. Open it. Fuck! Stupid idiot! Don't yell at
me! It slipped outta her hands, it was an accident. Oh, ok sorry.
I had spilled my inheritance and was covered in
half the contents of the bottle. This perfume smells like nothing.
I noticed the word "LOURDES"
written in tiny little letters on the bottom of the bottle.
Definitely not Chanel. Where the hell is that silver nipple? Where the
fuck is my drink? We could ne-ver b-e ROY-ALS...It don't run in our
bloooood. Didn't that chick win a Grammy? Maybe. Where is your drink?
Then I drank what was left of the perfume
straight from the bottle. This perfume is water. The perfume is
water? Yes, the perfume is water! I'd give you some but I drank it all,
Ha! You got a bullshit water inheritance, HA! Language! Please act like
a young lady. Jesus Christ give her a fucking break.
Without hesitation, or thought, I
refilled the little bottle with Vodka and put the silver nipple top
tightly back in place. Good. This way if your Mom comes back you
won't get in trouble for spilling. Oh haha, apparently I did find the
nipple top. Has anyone seen my drink? Seriously what kind of idiot loses
a drink in a two room apartment? Maybe
that's why you don't live in a nice place.
It's for my own protection? It's
totally for your own protection. You're right! I'd lose everything. Look
at that Shel-bel, we agree on somethin’.
Found your drink!
I had to pee. I finished my drink on the way,
sat down, and started to go. Ahhhhh sweet relief.
Only your fucking mother could
make someone so nervous they forget to take a goddamn piss. Umm yeah,
quite obvious, I didn't forget. Oh relax, you know what I mean.
That's when I saw Grandma Jane for the first
time since I was a little girl. She was sitting at my vanity brushing
her hair. Her make-up was meticulously applied and she looked absolutely
gorgeous. Oh this is exciting. See
Shel, it IS your lucky day!
"Hi Grandma Jane," I squealed as I got up and
flushed, "Can I use the sink too?"
She said nothing. Just smiled and kept brushing
her hair. She's probably a little freaked out. Like you’re not?
I washed my hands and headed to the kitchen for
more Vodka. I had practically climbed into the freezer searching for ice
when I heard the apartment door fly open. I held my breath, then
cautiously, stuck my head out of the freezer. Oh man Shelly, I hope
it's not your mother!? It wasn't. It
was Grandpa Rock! He had on his yellow cap and a rolled up newspaper
tucked under one arm. He always carried a newspaper around with him.
Yes, he totally did!
"Sweetie I'm home!" Even though I'd forgotten
what his voice sounded like as soon as he spoke I knew it was him.
I ran over to give him a big hug but he passed
right by me. He can't see you. He can't see me? I don't know if he
can see YOU, you idiot, he can't see Shelly! Grandma Jane hurried
out of the bathroom and greeted her husband with big a kiss. He picked
her up as they embraced. Well look at that. They’re still in love!
EWWWWW do they have to kiss that much!? Oh you’re too young to
understand, it's nice, they’re happy.
********************************
I woke up on the couch.
It wasn't morning. Water. Oh
good the Britta is full. Well that's a first. I staggered to my
bedroom hoping I'd put sheets on the bed. You forgot Shel, they’re
still in the dryer. Fuck it, I'll just sleep on the mattress. You
will not. You will pull out your inner rock- star, walk twenty feet
across that room, and get the damn sheets. Fine. What are you doing
awake anyhow?
On top of the dryer was a blank index card.
Odd? I turned it over and found two lips, perfectly imprinted with
fresh red lipstick. It's her
color, I'd recognize it anywhere. Beautiful isn't it? I held the
index card up to my face and kissed her lips. Suddenly all I could smell
was the comforting scent of Chanel No. 5.
Copyright © 2016 Ashley Henyan

In addition to her studies, Ashley works on the Communications and Marketing team at the American Red Cross, writing and editing articles for newsletters, websites and social media. During free moments, she enjoys volunteering at blood drives and the VA Hospital.