Be smart, Finley. This is so impractical.
But it’s the impracticality that’s convincing me to do it. My mother’s request has haunted me for the past six years. I’ve found so many reasons to ignore it, but it’s time to say yes. It’s time to take a chance and do something crazy. And once it’s done, I can go back to steady, practical Finley O’Brien.
Maybelle jumps onto the sofa beside me, and rubs herself against my leg, her sign that she’s granting me permission to pet her. As I run my hand over her soft fur, I realize the impractical Finley has already screwed up. Who’s going to take care of Maybelle?
I send a text to Mirna and Barb in our group chat.
I can’t go. It’s too late to find someone to take care of Maybelle.
Mirna’s name appears with three dots, letting me know she’s typing. The dots appear and disappear for nearly thirty seconds, and I wonder if she’s writing an essay, but then her text appears.
We’ll take care of her.
I frown, then send:
I thought you were going to Chattanooga to spend the week with your daughter’s family for Christmas
My phone rings and I’m not surprised to see Mirna’s name. She hates texting.
“Why aren’t you going to your daughter’s?” I ask as soon as I answer.
“I’m going, but just for the day.” She makes a sound that sounds like a grunt, but Mirna’s too ladylike to do such a thing. “She’s inviting Todd’s family too.” Her disgust is palpable.
Mirna’s daughter is in her late fifties, and she got remarried a couple of years ago. While Mirna likes her daughter’s new husband well enough, it’s a different matter when it comes to his mother. “You really should try to get along with Vera.”
“Why shouldn’t she try to get along with me?”
She has a point.
“In any case,” she says in a prim and proper tone that makes it clear we’re done discussing Vera, “I’m going up on Christmas Eve and coming back the night of Christmas Day. I can feed her in the morning before I go, and we can get Burt to feed her that night and the next morning. You know he’s not doing anything for Christmas.”
It’s not a bad plan.
When I don’t argue, she says triumphantly, “So there. Maybelle is settled and I’ll even hang out in your apartment and watch those silly dating shows you love to watch, just to make her feel like you’re there.”
I know Mirna secretly loves watching those dating shows, so it isn’t exactly a hardship.
“Don’t spoil anything for me,” I tease. “I’m two weeks behind.”
“As if,” she says stiffly.
We’re silent for a moment before I ask, “Are you sure?”
“Watching those dating shows will be a hardship, but I’ll muster through,” she says, sounding resigned.
I nearly laugh. “I’m talking about feeding Maybelle. And cleaning her litter box. I’ll be gone for nearly two weeks.”
“Your baby will be taken very well care of,” she says, her tone softening. “I’ll even ask my granddaughters to teach me how to text photos so you can see her.”
Tears sting my eyes again, this time for a happy reason. “Why are you going out of your way to help me? I know you don’t want me to go, even if you gave your blessing.”
She’s silent for a moment. “You’re a good girl, Finley, and life has been too hard for you. You need to have fun. Barb’s right—you need an adventure.” She pauses again. “I had a chance to go off with a young man in my youth, but I was too scared. I played it safe, and I’ve always regretted it.” She’s quieter when she says, “I’ve always wondered what my life would have been like if I’d just taken the chance.”
I gasp in shock. I know she and her husband had celebrated their fifty-third wedding anniversary weeks before he passed away from a stroke. She moved here not long after, mere months before I moved in. When she speaks of him, it’s always with fondness, which is why I’m surprised there was someone else before him. “Oh, Mirna…”
“In any case,” she says, sounding sterner. “I think you should go, but if you run into any trouble at all, you call me, and I’ll book you the first flight home. The last thing I want you to worry about is whether you can afford it or not.”
“Mirna,” I protest. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
