I nodded.
“Come down and eat?”
Again, I felt like a coddled child. If she hadn’t known what specifically was wrong, she knew by my six-hour afternoon nap thatsomethingwas up.
“’Kay.”
I shuffled after her to the kitchen. When the smell of broth and vegetables reached my nose, my stomach growled loudly as if suddenly remembering that food existed. Where would I be without Grandma? What was I even doing but being a burden? How would she ever rely on me to take care of her?
The darkness threatened to take me back, and I took a deep breath in and out. Grandma loved me. I wasn’t a burden. These were lies powered by everything that happened today. The fears desperate to prove to me just how right they were about everything. Thankfully, I could at least recognize those scary thoughts for what they were now.
I ate some hearty soup that had big chunks of veggies, noodles, and chicken. Grandma must have ordered it from the diner. For all my and Grandma’s shared love of hobbies, cooking was not one of them.
After I pushed back the bowl with a sigh, I said, “Thank you. I do feel better.”
“You’re welcome. You have to remember to eat.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“So.” She tapped her nails along the counter, tilting her head with a coy smile. “You were out with Pace Leigh this morning? Getting pedicures?”
“That has to be a world record for gossip.” Although it had been hours since I’d been home, she probably knew before we even left the salon.
“You know Betsy is always here for spin a yarn night.”
I lifted my chin, remembering that I spotted her.
“I’m not hiding it.”
“How did you two even hook up?” she asked.
I coughed as an errant carrot lodged itself in my throat. I knew she hadn’t meant “hook up” in the biblical sense, she meant like our paths crossing. It was like when she told me to “go wipe my puss” in front of a group of fellow middle schoolers, meaning myface. Sometimes having a two-generation gap was a challenge to the current vernacular.
“It’s a long story,” I said.
“Are you seeing each other or was this just ...”
I snorted loudly. “No. Pace Leigh, Cozy Creek resident hottie hero, is not dating me.”
“I don’t see what’s funny about that.” She sat up straighter, looking down her nose at me.
“I’m just ... we aren’t in the same circles. There are certain laws of nature that can’t be ignored.”
Grandma, who had been sitting for two minutes too long, got up and began spritzing the counter with cleaner before aggressively wiping it off. “Please tell me, in the year of our lord twenty-whatever—I don’t keep track of the years anymore. Time is a construct developed by corporations to make us feel bad about our aging bodies.” She shook her head and moved on when I gave her a pointed look. “Just tell me that as a modernwoman, you arenotstill concerned about being good enough for aman.” She all but held back a gag at that last word.
“It’s not that.” At least not all of it. But I kept that to myself.
“I raised you on Gloria Steinem, made you follow Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie on that one app. I brought you to rallies and lectures. You know the dangers of conforming yourself to appease the likes of the patriarchy.”
I held up my hand before she really got going. “I know. I know. Trust me. I am an independent woman. I don’t need a man. Rah. Rah.”
“But you do want a partner?”
“I want to be less alone,” I confessed, honestly. Had that been what this was really about? I told myself I needed to be able to help Grandma and finally live my life, but maybe it was more than that.
“I can understand that. I know that I can’t be everything for you, try as I might.” She came around the counter to squeeze my shoulder with her free hand. “Just make sure you’re not trying to change yourself for him. You just slept for six hours in the middle of the day.”
“That wasn’t because of him. He was trying to help. I told him I’m trying to be better about getting out. And he’s helping.”
