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“I’m not like him, you know.” I tell her, my words flowing freely.
The stammer mostly kicks up at times of pressure, or if I’m intimidated. Gran doesn’t intimidate me, she makes me feel at ease. Maybe I feel safe with her because she’s half blind, it means I have the upper hand. With Dad you were always fighting for your survival, for your sanity. It’s caused me to be defensive around people, and most people have no intention of doing me harm. But such is my mind-set.
“I never said you were, sugar,” she replies, with a smile in her faded brown eyes.
“I know but - I just wanted to tell you I won’t be any trouble I promise. I’ll keep to myself, you’ll barely even know I’m here.”
“Well I wouldn’t want that Florence. You treat this house as if it were your own. God only knows you deserve a bit of freedom, after living under my son all your life.”
Nobody ever calls me Florence, it’s weird, like being called by the name of another. “Oh, um okay, thank you.”
She laughs softly before saying, “Now tell me a little about yourself, I want to hear all about my seventeen year old granddaughter who I’ve never known properly.”
“There’s not much to tell,” I say modestly.
“Balderdash! Everybody’s got something to say about themselves, now come, you know my sight isn’t what it was, describe to me your appearance.”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone use the phrase “balderdash” before. I have to stifle a laugh.
“My appearance?” I ask.
“Yes love, I’d like to be able to imagine the details since I haven’t the ability to see them, at least not properly.”
“Oh,” I clear my throat, “my hair is dark brown and long. My eyes are green.”
“Green eyes?” she asks. “I don’t think there have ever been green eyes in the family before, or do you mean hazel?”
“No not hazel Gran, there’s no brown in them, just green.”
“How very unusual, you must have inherited those from your mother.”
A moment of silence ensues as we both regard each other politely. The subject of my mother is a sore point for me. Dad always hammered home the fact that she died while giving birth to me.
“What about your interests, what are your hobbies?” Gran asks next, after taking a sip of her tea.
I blush. “I don’t really have many, life with Dad keeps me busy.”
Gran nods shrewdly. “At times I wonder how he became the man he is today.”
“It’s not your fault. Sometimes good parents get bad kids, just like bad parents can get good ones.”
“Very true,” Gran replies. “Anyhow, if you did have free time, which you will while you’re living with me, what would you do with it?”
I think a moment. “I suppose I might learn how to play an instrument, and I’d probably read more. Dad didn’t really like me reading, he said it irritated him. Oh and I’d definitely get a dog, I’ve never had a pet.”
“What instrument would you learn to play?” she asks, a constant smile on her wrinkled face.
“What are those ones that look like giant violins?” I ask, feeling stupid for not knowing.
“They’re called cellos, dear.”
“Oh yeah, cellos, I’d like to learn to play the cello, I like the sound it makes.”
Gran laughs loudly. “It is a good kind of sound, I agree with you Florence. You see, there’s a lot more for you to tell about yourself than you thought.”
“I guess there is.”
“What about books, what do you like to read?”
