Page 62 of Satisfaction Guaranteed

The casual manner in which she explains causes Nana’s brows to furrow deeper. Alana knows it’s because she expected more of her. For an over-apology, or to grovel for being irresponsible and for making them worry. Where there was a time that would have been her response, she doesn’t feel the need anymore.

“You up and leave your own party to chase some man, then refuse to answer your phone? Your mother wanted me to leave well enough alone, but I demanded that girl you work with tell me where you were so I could make sure you weren’t tied up in a trunk.” Nana sighs in that deep, overly dramatic way she so often does.

It was a valid concern. Though it doesn’t keep the agitation from bubbling in the back of her throat like bile. Alana frowns, arms crossed beneath her chest. With how Nana had left things, why would she even care? The look she’d given Alana still stung if she thought about it too long. The cold disdain, the disappointment. Twenty-seven years of being her golden child, and instantly, she was nothing at all.

“Well, as you can see, I’m not in a trunk. I’m sorry I scared you, really. But I’m in good hands with Cyrus.”

“Cyrus.” Nana mutters his name like a profanity. Her jaw clenches, then unclenches. “He must be quite a catch for you to feel comfortable running off into the wind with him like that,” she says with sourness, acidic as vinegar.

A sigh flutters out of Alana. Heavy and resigned, it leaves her hollow. The blow-up at her party had been about more than Cyrus. It was the lack of agency she had over her own body, her own choices. The expectations. The inner shame. The guilt. It had been the constant weight of outside opinions on how to live her life.

If it hadn’t all come to a head then, it wouldn’t have taken much longer.

“He is,” Alana responds firmly. She doesn’t whither beneath her Nana’s hardened stare. “He really is, to be honest with you. And I know you don’t approve and think I’m doing something wrong by being with him. But I’m not, Nana. So please, whatever lecture you came here to give me? I’d appreciate it if you saved it.”

The woman’s reaction isn’t what Alana had anticipated. There’s no vein poking out the side of her neck. No poorly concealed anger bursting at the seams. “This all feels so unlike you, that’s all. You can understand why I might be worried.”

“Only it isn’t unlike me,” Alana scoffs. “It really isn’t. You look at me, and you see this impressionable little kid who’d close their eyes when make-out scenes came on during movies. But Nana, I cannot stress this enough, I am a grown-ass woman now. I do womanly grown-ass things. I’ve gotten high, I’ve masturbated, and I’ve watched porn. And now, yeah. I’ve finally had sex. With a man I’m not married to. And you know what? I’m not ashamed of it. Because it was an amazing experience.” Nana blinks rapidly, her hand rushing to clutch the front of her blouse as if to keep her heart from stopping. “Alana Nicole…I don’t. That’s—I don’t even know what to say to you right now,” she stutters, nose scrunched. As conservative as the woman is, she isn’t totally ignorant. The list of information Alana shared likely painted a mental image her Nana wasn’t ready for.

But the floodgates have opened, and there’s no stopping herself now.

“I know. And that’s okay. You don’t have to say anything else. Because as long as I can remember, I’ve had your voice in the back of my head, weighing in on my decisions about what makes me a good person. A good girl. It’s…it’s suffocating. Always has been.” Alana looks her Nana in the eye. “You have no idea what it’s like to see people your age thrive when you’re left struggling with things that should come easily. Sex, intimacy, romantic relationships. Anxiety and fear have held me back for years. Anxiety that you put there. You always made sex seem like this thing that happens to women. Not something we do. Like it’s some filth-ridden activity that I’d never come back from, unless I did so in a way that was appropriate. Do you have any idea how hard it is to navigate intimacy with that ideology at the back of your mind?”

For the first time since they started speaking, her expression softens. Her mouth opens, then closes, more uncertain than she’s ever been. Nana Darling is not a woman with a filter, in most cases. She speaks her mind unapologetically, but this time, she’s selecting her words with care.

“I was only trying to protect you,” she murmurs. “I try to protect all my grand-kids. Especially my girls.”

“Protect me from what? I know pregnancy is always a risk and things like that, but—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Nana cuts in with a heavy drag of her shoulders. “I was trying to protect you all from… heartache.

Yes, I suppose pregnancy is a part of that. I’d hate for any of you to experience a pregnancy you don’t want, especially from a man who isn’t dedicated to you. But it’s always been more than that. It’s also about protecting you from people who will use you and discard you.” Her voice wavers. Throat bobbing with a harsh swallow, she continues, “It’s a dangerous world out here, Lana. What happens if you give yourself to the wrong person? You’d be treated like used goods nobody wants. Shame your family, embarrass yourself. A reputation is everything, and believe me, there is no coming back from something like that.”

The air grows too thick to breathe comfortably. Alana opens her mouth but closes it just as quickly, unsure what to say.

“Things have changed a lot since I was a young woman,” Nana adds. Hands at her side, she walks in short, even steps to her car and leans on the hood. Alana joins her, their shoulders resting against each other. “There were harsher expectations for women of my generation, ‘Lana. And I’ve made my own mistakes and suffered my own consequences for not meeting those expectations. I suppose I just wanted to ensure my girls— you—never went down the same path.”

Alana picks at the fabric of her borrowed pajama pants. “What kind of mistakes?”

A smile forms on Nana’s face. Subtle, but it’s there. “Did you know I had your daddy at seventeen?” She looks up to the sky, taking in the view of a plane overhead. “With this boy from my history class. I liked him, he said he liked me. The timing just felt right, and so, one thing led to another. Next thing I knew, I was pregnant. Unexpected, of course. Two foolish kids who weren’t entirely ready for that responsibility. Only, I didn’t have the same options to run as he did.” Her expression hardens, and the laugh that leaves her is bitter. “It was entirely off the path my parents had for me, and it wasn’t taken lightly. I dropped out of school. People talked. I had embarrassed them and made a name for myself as the whore of the family and church. I love your father, and I don’t regret him. But I had to start my whole life from scratch. My choices had cost me everything. I moved towns, my parents cut me off. When I finally found my footing, I turned to faith. Hoping that I could make up for things, and that the Old Gods my father would speak of could forgive me for all the disappointment. That’s where I met your grandfather, actually. Through the church.” She sighs, a sense of longing painted in her eyes.

“Oh, Nana…” Alana’s voice breaks. Her eyes burn with tears that she fails to blink away. “I never—I didn’t know.”

“There was no reason for you to.” She places a hand on Alana’s knee. “This was never something I wanted to bother you with. But I hope you can understand. I wanted to instill these values in you in hopes that you wouldn’t experience anything like I did.”

Alana places her hand on top of her grandmother’s. They’re thinner than hers, weathered by time and decorated in rings of gold. They sparkle the same as they did when she used to admire them as a kid. She’d beg Nana for an opportunity to wear them and pretend she’d been proposed to. A small smile lifts at the memory.

“Those weren’t mistakes, just for the record,” Alana says. She sniffles, tears trickling down the round of her cheeks. “I mean, I’m sure having kids so young wasn’t ideal. But you were a teenager navigating life for the first time. You deserved community, Nana. Support, love. The only real mistake is the way you were treated. You never deserved that.”

Her heart twists uncomfortably as she thinks of a seventeen-year-old Nana. Young and vulnerable and alone, forced to navigate something like that on her own. She can’t imagine how hard it must have been.

“I’m working on believing that, lovely.” Nana’s normally stoic features crack into something warmer. She bumps their shoulders together, sighing. Unloading decades’ worth of repressed emotions had taken its toll, Alana imagines. She knows what that’s like.

“You’re also not damaged goods,” Alana adds. “And neither am I. There’s no forgiveness you have to spend your whole life chasing, and I’m willing to bet that whatever gods you serve think the same thing.”

Nana chuckles, and when she stands, she brings Alana with her to cup her face in the palms of her hands. “I owe you an apology,” she whispers. “I had no idea that I had placed such hardship on you, Alana. If I made navigating this world any harder than it already is, then I’m—I’m sorry.”

Her Nana…apologizing? No plate of food slid over in silence. No moving past the hurt as if it never happened. But a real, genuine apology? Somewhere in the universe, something has shifted.