“I’ve been trying to work through some shit lately,” I say instead. I’m not ready to spill my guts to him yet, but I can give himsomething. “I’m trying to fix things with my mom. Trying the whole staying in one place long-term thing. I don’t want to fuck things up with Elsie for a lot of reasons, but I know that if this thing crashes and burns, I’m going to want to take off like I always do.”
Shit, that was a bit more honest than I’d meant to be. I’m not sure I even realized I had that fear until the words left my mouth.
“Asking your dumb ass for advice is the best option I’ve got,” I add, trying to lighten the mood.
Sean studies me seriously for a moment, then nods. “Okay then,” he says.
And we leave it at that.
CHAPTER 27
Declan
Since moving to Port Myles, my mom and I have stuck to our schedule of meeting for dinner on the second Wednesday of every month. I try to schedule my appointments so I can leave a bit early on those days, usually getting to her apartment around seven or so. We have dinner – sometimes she cooks, sometimes I bring takeout – and we make small talk, sometimes watch a bit of TV. I’m usually home by nine at the latest.
We don’t usually stray from our schedule, since Sasha thrives on her routines, but we’re both willing to make exceptions for special occasions.
Tonight’s a special occasion.
“There he is,” the booming voice that was the soundtrack to my childhood calls out the second I step through Sasha’s apartment door. My grandfather rises from his seat on the couch and makes his way over to me, immediately pulling me into a hug and clapping me onthe back. I’m not one to show much affection, but I grip my grandfather in a tight hug for a few seconds.
“Missed you, Pops.”
I haven’t seen Pops and Gran since they came up to Boston at the end of winter. They’d planned to visit me in Port Myles sooner, but their neighbor’s husband passed and she can’t do much on her own, so they’ve been helping her until her daughter could get some things squared away and arrange for in-home care.
“We missed you, too, bud.”
“Where’s my grandson?” a soft voice calls from the small hallway beyond the kitchen. When Gran appears, I’m struck by how small and thin she looks. I know it’s just the effects of aging – they’d tell me if anything was wrong – but it’s jarring nonetheless. The knowledge that the only two people who have always been there for me are aging and don’t have as much time left on this earth as I’d like scares the shit out of me. I don’t know how to exist in a world without them, and I hate that I’ll someday have to find out what it’s like.
“Hi, Gran.” I grab the hand that she reaches out toward me and squeeze, pulling her into a hug.
“Oh, my sweet boy,” she says, sounding near tears as she hugs me back. She’s called me that for as long as I can remember, though I don’t think I’ve ever qualified as beingsweet.
When we pull apart, I look over to my mom. The four of us aren’t together very often, and when we are, there’s always a layer of awkwardness in the air. It’s a strange dynamic, when Sasha is the one who gave birth to me, but Gran and Pops are the only real parents I’ve ever known. We’re trying to work on that, sure, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’ll always be more comfortable, more affectionate, with them. I can tell that it bothers her, but she’s never said anything.
Now, though, she’s smiling as she watches the three of us. “I’m so glad you could come over.”
“Me, too,” I tell her, and I mean it. Even if Gran and Pops weren’t here, I’ve started to actually enjoy my visits with Sasha. Turns out she’s not so bad, when she doesn’t have enough narcotics coursing through her system to make a grown man keel over. She’s even kind of funny, and she always has entertaining stories about the dental office where she works as a receptionist.
I take a seat on the couch next to my grandfather, and Sasha and Gran sit side-by-side on the loveseat. “How long are you in town for?” I ask.
“A whole week,” Gran says proudly. “We want to see your new town and where you work, maybe visit with some friends in Portland. Whenever you can make some time for us this week, we’ll be here.”
“I’d love to see your new place, too,” Sasha says softly. It’s been a month since we opened the shop, and a bit longer than that since I made the big move from Boston to Port Myles. I have yet to invite her out to check out the town, the shop or my apartment. I know she’s been dying to, but I haven’t felt ready to have her in my space – in my life – like that. Not yet.
But with my grandparents in town, I don’t think I can put it off any longer.
Time to rip the Band-Aid off.
“Sure,” I tell her. “We’ll plan something for this week. I think I have a light schedule on Tuesday. I’ll check the books tomorrow and let you know.”
“You know,” my grandfather muses, stroking his mustache thoughtfully. “I think maybe I’d like to get a tattoo.”
My eyes shoot to my grandmother but she only smiles, like this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation. “What would youget?” Sasha asks, sounding as shocked as I feel. Pops has never once looked down on me or said an ill word about all of the tattoos on my body, but I never got the sense that he particularly cared for them, either.
“I’ve been thinking about a pinup gal on my leg,” Pops says, tugging up his slacks on one side and patting his calf. “Got the perfect spot right here.”
If you had given me fifty guesses, none of them would have beenthat.
