But after three days of worrying about Adriel, I can’t take it anymore. I need to see him.
Picking up on the seriousness of my words, she carefully tucks her project into her bag and turns to give me her full attention. “I believe this conversation will require a drink and a treat. My mother always said hard conversations were easier with a dessert in your hands.”
The smile that curls up my lips is possibly the most real one I’ve ever given her. It’s also the first time I think she’s ever told me anything about her parents. That thought sobers me a tad, but also adds to my elation.
She’s feeling this change between us too. And that has me even more hopeful.
She pats my hand that’s resting on my leg, reassuring me with her calm strength. How had I never noticed any of this before? Was I blind to these moments, or were they truly not present before?
“Would you like some help?” I offer, hoping to continue the amicability of our interaction. Butter her up more to beg for my freedom.
Her warm blue eyes, identical to mine, meet my gaze and soften before she dips her chin. We work quietly as I slice us both a large helping of the cheesecake that’s finally cooled, smothering them both in her homemade strawberry sauce. With plates and forks in hand, I walk into the sitting room and wait.
She joins me a minute later with two glasses of soda. After handing me one, she holds hers out toward me, and I clink my glass against hers. We both take a large sip. The smooth and spicy bubbles of the ginger beer hit me first before the burn of the alcohol hits the back of my throat. My eyes widen in surprise as hers sparkle with delight.
“My father would say that a smooth cocktail made apologies easier to swallow.”
I just stare at her. Incredulous. A laugh bubbles up from deep in my soul, bursting out with joy that echoes off the walls. Grandma Julia follows suit with me, both of us holding our middles as we attempt to rein in our chuckles.
“I’ve never heard you talk about your parents before,” I admit, taking another sip before digging into her famous cheesecake.
She shrugs as if that’s the most common thing in the world. “They’ve been gone for so long, it didn’t feel pertinent. And perhaps I didn’t know how to really share that with you. My father was the town’s pastor. They were both very strict, but that wasn’t terribly uncommon back then.”
My brows pinch in and I feel bad for not making this transition easy on her either. I hadn’t realized how much we were both hurting. Too clouded by my own pain.
“It’s likely no secret that I didn’t do right by your mother. Your grandfather and I moved here to get away from our parents and when I had your mother, I found myself falling into the same rhythm as my parents. By the time I realized what I had done, it was too late. When I heard about what you did, something began eating me up from the inside and I thought—” her voice trails off as she clears her throat of the budding sadness. “I thought maybe God would forgive me for messing up your mother so badly that maybe He was giving me a second chance.”
It takes me a few tries, but I manage to swallow the lump lodged in my throat and blink away the tears building up on my lower lashes. “That was the first time I’d ever experimented with drugs before,” I admit. The reminder of that night flooding my memories like a tidal wave. And then I relived that night with her—the fear, the pain, the darkness. All of it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The smallness in her voice forces my attention, and I meet her eyes.Finallymeet her eyes.
“I did…er, I tried. Several times. But no one wanted to listen to me.” Tears fill my eyes until they stream down my cheeks,blurring her reddened gaze from view. “One shitty mistake and I watched the life I had so carefully built crumble to dust.”
“I didn’t know then. And I think I allowed others' voices to drown out my reasoning. Which caused me to repeat the same mistakes.”
Grandma Julia turns until she’s facing me head on, our knees touching gently. Her hands grasp tightly onto mine, squeezing her strength into me.
“When you ran off, I thought about our last words; prayed about them. Prayed they wouldn’t be our last. It was the sheriff who insisted I switch your door and screw the windows shut.He even sent over a handyman at no charge to do it. All the while I prayed. Harder and harder each day. It felt as if a stone sat in my stomach and wouldn’t go away. I sought solace in old family pictures, which is when I realized what was happening.
“God spoke to me in those old pictures. Reminders of my childhood and your mother’s. I believe the internet calls it generational trauma.”
Once again, I can’t contain the laugh that erupts from my lips. “You did an internet search?” I ask, teasing lightly to soften the somber mood.
“I’m not as helpless with technology as you think, young man,” she snaps back, her teasing lilt matching mine. “I lived alone for alongtime before you came along.”
One of her hands leaves mine and cups my cheek. Her warmth infiltrates my skin, easing the soul-deep ache I didn’t know I had.
“I’m here now, and I’m finally listening. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get here, but I hope it’s not too late. This should be your home, and I’m not your warden. However, I will not compromise on your safety.”
I nod along with her words, leaning into her touch. “It’s not too late, Grandma.” A soft smile curls up her pink lips, wrinklingaround her eyes beautifully. “I will attempt to be more present here with you as you need, too. The fault of our situation does not solely fall on your shoulders.”
“Then how about we settle for some new ground rules?”
“I’d love that.”
After our touch and gaze lingers, we return to our cheesecake and Tennessee Mules. The two of us taking turns, laying out what we need from each other.
“I would like you home for dinner each night. Families should eat together.”
