Elsewhere(14)

I don't know if I mentioned that I'm a seamstress here," Grandma Betty says.

Liz shakes her head.

"Yeah, keeps me pretty busy. People tend to get smaller as they get younger, so they always need their clothes taken in."

"Can't they just buy new ones?" Liz asks, her brow furrowed.

"Of course, doll, I didn't mean to imply they couldn't. However, I have observed that there's less waste here, all around. And I do make new garments, too, you know. I prefer it, actually. It's more creative for me."

Liz nods and feels relieved. The idea of everyone wearing the same clothes for the rest of time was one of the more depressing things she'd thought lately.

After a shower (which Liz finds gloriously equivalent to showers on Earth), she wraps a towel around herself and goes into Grandma Betty's closet.

The closet is large and well organized. Her grandmother's clothes look expensive and well made, but a bit theatrical for Liz's taste: felt cloches and old-fashioned dresses and velvet capes and brooches and ballet slippers and ostrich feathers and patent-leather high heels and fishnet stockings and fur. Liz wonders where her grandmother goes in these garments. She further wonders if Grandma Betty owns jeans, for the only thing Liz wants to wear is jeans and a T-shirt.

She searches the closet for jeans. Aside from navy blue sailor pants, she finds nothing even close.

Completely frustrated, Liz sits down under a rack of sweaters. She imagines her messy closet back home with its twelve pairs of blue jeans. It had taken a long time to find all those jeans. She had had to try on many pairs. The thought of them makes Liz want to cry. She wonders what will happen to her jeans now. She puts her head in her hands and touches the stitches over her ear.

Even getting dressed is difficult here, Liz thinks.

"Did you find anything?" Grandma Betty asks when she comes into the closet several minutes later. In this time, Liz has not moved.

Liz looks up but doesn't answer.

"I know how you feel," Grandma Betty says.

Yeah right, Liz thinks.

"You're thinking that I don't know how you feel, but in some ways, I do. Dying at fifty isn't as different from dying at fifteen as you might think. When you're fifty, you still have a lot of things you might like to do and a lot of things you need to take care of."

"What did you die from anyway?" Liz asks.

"Breast cancer. Your mother was pregnant with you at the time."

"I know that part."

Grandma Betty smiles a sad little smile. "So, it's nice I get to meet you now. I was beside myself with disappointment that I didn't get to meet you then. I wish we'd met under slightly different circumstances, of course." She shakes her head. "You might look pretty in this." She raises the arm of a floral print dress that is not at all like something Liz would wear.

Liz shakes her head.

"Or this?" Grandma Betty points to a cashmere sweater.

"If it's the same to you, I think I'll just wear my pajamas after all."

"I understand, and you certainly won't be the first person to go to an acclimation appointment in pajamas," Grandma Betty assures her.

"Your clothes are nice, though."

"We can buy you some other things," Grandma Betty says. "I would have bought them for you myself, but I didn't know what you would like. Clothes are a personal business, at least for me."

Liz shrugs.

"When you're ready," Grandma Betty continues, "I'll give you money. Just say the word."

But Liz can't bring herself to care what she wears anymore and decides to change the subject.

"I've been wondering what I should call you, by the way. It seems odd to call you Grandma somehow."

"How about Betty, then?"

Liz nods. "Betty."

"And what do you like to be called?" Betty asks.

"Well, Mom and Dad call me Lizzie ..." Liz corrects herself. "They used to call me Lizzie, but I think I prefer Liz now."

Betty smiles. "Liz."

"I'm really not feeling well. Would it be all right if I stayed in bed today, and we changed my acclimation appointment to tomorrow?" asks Liz. Her collarbone feels tender where the seat belt pulled against it during last night's crash, but mainly Liz doesn't feel like doing anything.

Betty shakes her head. "Sorry, doll, but everyone's got to have their acclimation appointment their first day in Elsewhere. No exceptions."

Liz leaves the closet and turns to Betty's bedroom window, which overlooks an unruly garden.

She can identify roses, lilies, lavender, sunflowers, chrysanthemums, begonias, gardenias, an apple tree, an orange tree, an olive tree, and a cherry tree. Liz wonders how so many varieties of flowers and fruits can share a single plot of land. "Is that your garden?" Liz asks.

"Yes," Betty answers.

"Mom likes to garden, too."

Betty nods. "Olivia and I used to garden together, but among other things, we never agreed about what to plant. She preferred useful plants like cabbages and carrots and peas. Me, I'm a sucker for a sweet perfume or a splash of color."

"It's pretty," Liz says, watching a monarch butterfly rest on a red hibiscus flower. "Wild, but pretty."