Grandad's will

Outside East Coast Bays library on a seat in the shade you told me
‘Wade has bought me out.’
I was stunned and my cheeks got hot as I realised what Caine and I had lost.
I stood up and you stood up too, unsure of what to do.
I said ‘I have to go, I have to do some things in Browns Bay’
and I hugged you briefly.
‘Don’t go’
you said.
But I was already walking away,
difficult to do in platform sandals with woven wicker soles.
I got round the corner, near the little fruit shop,
and started running and sobbing loudly, heaving up tears and coughs.
I ran and ran,
past Farmers,
past the Penguino ice cream shop,
past jewellery and hat stalls.
Running crazy in my stupid shoes and pale pink sun hat.
I sat on the grassy foreshore, behind a tree so you wouldn’t find me.
I called Mike and he might’ve thought I was laughing at first.
I told him about you and said
‘I don’t know how he could’ve done this and not told us. I don’t think my father has a conscience.’
It was the worst thing I’ve ever said.
Later I walked back to my car.
You were still parked behind me.
You looked scared of me,
hunched and scared and smoking a cigarette
and I’d never seen you look like that before.
You said
‘It was the right thing to do at the time.’
‘I don’t want the last time I see you in quite a while to be like this.’
‘I love you very much.’
‘I know the timing is terrible, with how you’ve been.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about that. How’s everything been?’
I said
‘Fine.’
‘I love you too.’
We hugged and I noticed your wrinkled neck and the thin silver chain around it.
You got into your car, stuck your head out the window and asked me the time.
‘Two forty.’
You nodded, waved and drove away.
I crumpled in my car
and then rather stupidly indicated and pulled out,
hysterical,
nearly getting side swiped by a bus.
Up ahead near the roundabout I thought I saw your car pulled over
like you were going to wave goodbye as I went past.
But it wasn’t you.
You were gone.