Page 48
“No, I love that,” she confesses prior to girlishly giggling. “I meant…I like Emmerz.”
“More than Emaline?”
Nodding is instant. “It’s the first time someone besides Gam Gam gave me a nickname.”
“Your parents didn’t?”
“They died when I was just a baby.”
“Together? Car wreck?”
“Separate.” Her shoulders noticeably sink. “Dad died in an elevator maintenance accident. He repaired them for a living.”
An impressed grunt escapes. “That’s not a thing you hear a lot about.”
“Death of elevator mechanics or elevator mechanics in general?”
“That one.”
Post a small smile, she adds, “And my mom died of a broken heart.”
“Can that shit really happen?”
“Yes.”
Skepticism has me cocking my head in tandem with verifying, “You’re not just fucking with me?”
“Nope.” New waves of sadness wash over her stare. “It’s a rare thing that happens but does happen. It’s called Takotsubo cardiomyopathy and only like a teeny tiny teensy-weensy amount of people actually die from it.” Emaline’s shoulders seem to bounce on their own accord. “My mom was one of those rare cases.”
“Leaving you to be raised by your grandma.”
“Gam Gam.”
“When’d she die?”
“Few years back, but sometimes it feels like it was just a few weeks ago. We’re talking…still can hear her voice and feel her presence.”
My hand gently lands on hers.
“She was such a magical woman,” she wistfully recalls. “Like if Betty White and Betty Davis – two people I highly doubt you’ve heard of considering you basically just got your learner’s permit – were meshed into a single person who couldn’t go more than two hours without eating a piece of dark chocolate and swearing to the high heavens.”
Chuckling effortlessly happens again.
Fuckme.
Talk about a habit I never expected to pick up.
Her grams couldn’t quit sweets, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to quit her granddaughter.
Especially not when she keeps me smiling like this.
Feeling like this.
Like the man of the hour, every hour.
It takes a minute for my laughter to die down; however, the second it’s faded, I ask, “What nickname did she call you?”
“Em.” A thoughtful hum is presented. “I think because it reminded her of my mom, her daughter. Her name was Emma.”
