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I picked some lint off my jeans. “Yeah. I guess it’s obvious.”
He smirked. “Might she be the reason I didn’t see you this weekend?”
“She might.”
“It’s about time you see some action, Troy. I was beginning to think you and that cat had something going on.”
Yawning, I rubbed my eyes. Good sleep had continued to evade me lately, at least whenever I wasn’t lying next to her.
He shook his head. “You got it that bad, huh?”
“I’m really into her, yeah, but I don’t know what to do about it.”
“What’s there to wonder about? You have to please her if you want her to keep you around. Keep her happy. Keep her satisfied. Your grandmother never wanted for anything, and I’m not talking about money.”
I held my palms up. “I don’t need to know about the various ways you pleased Nonna. Keep that shit to yourself, for Christ’s sake.”
“I’m not just talking about sex, ya pighead. I’m talking about making her feel like she’s the most important person in the world, that she’s safe with you. That’s how you keep a woman.”
“Therein lies the problem. She’s not necessarily safe with me. I have a horrible track record with her, going back to high school. And a horrible track record with women, in general.”
He smacked his hand against the side table. “Well, then I’d say you’re due for a change.”
“I’m only supposed to be passing through town. I wasn’t planning on developing feelings for someone that would require me to stay in Meadowbrook.”
“You just wanted to boink her and didn’t expect things to develop? You’re not a kid anymore, Troy. And I think you knew from the beginning that she’s not the type of girl you boink once and forget about. She’s special, that one. A real woman. Like your grandmother.”
“Exactly. She’s a real woman. And that’s why I don’t know if she should be wasting her time with me. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Why do you need to hurt her? You’re writing the ending to the story before it even really begins. Maybe take your time seeing where things go before you draw conclusions. You’re living in the future, not the present.”
“She’s been nearly cheated on by an ex—possibly actually cheated on without her knowledge. And she knows I cheated on her friend back in high school. How the hell do I get her to trust me?”
“You become someone worthy of trust.” Nonno adjusted his blanket over his legs. “Let me ask you something. Do you think you’re still a cheater? If so, maybe you should leave this girl alone.”
If I really looked inside myself, I knew I would never hurt Aspyn in that way. “I would never cheat on her, but how do I get her to believe that?”
“It takes work and time, son. But just as important as earning her trust is keeping a woman happy.” He grinned like a Cheshire cat. “I have some secrets in that regard.”
I arched a brow. “Really. And you’ve been holding out on me?”
“Get a pen and paper. There’re five of ’em, and I want you to write them down.”
Chuckling, I stood up and walked down the hall to the administration desk where I asked for some paper and a pen before returning to my grandfather’s room.
Sitting back down, I said, “Okay…I’m ready.”
He lowered the volume on the television. “Now, keep in mind, these tricks of the trade are not substitutes for the big, obvious things like loyalty. These are little things you can do to make her smile. These are the things that basically seal the deal on an already good thing.”
“Alright…” I clicked the top of the pen and readied myself to take notes.
He cleared his throat. “Okay, first secret.”
“Yeah?”
“Rub her feet.”
I cackled. “That’s a secret to a successful relationship? I was expecting something a bit more profound.”
“I told you, these are little things… But they add up, and they matter. Rubbing feet is an intimate act that shows her you understand how hard she works, that you don’t mind getting your hands a little dirty, and that you care about her well-being.”
Feet, in general, kind of skeeve me out. I never understood foot fetishes. But for some reason, the thought of rubbing Aspyn’s feet didn’t bother me. But I still didn’t understand this so-called secret.
I wrote down Foot Rub. “Okay, well, that’s easy enough. I suppose if you think it works, I’ll try it,” I said, mostly to humor my grandfather.
He reached over to his side table and began to peel an orange. “Second secret, write her notes, even if they’re short, to tell her you’re thinking about her. A note is more heartfelt than this texting business. In my day, you wrote a note and folded it nice. Make it short, sweet, and to the point. Your Nonna had a whole collection of them from me. Not only does it prove you really care about her, it gives her something to refer back to in the times when you’ve gone and pissed her off.”
