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“I’m just worried about the—”
“No. Don’t.” She pushes some hair behind my ear. “That’s my job.”
“But—”
“The only thing you should worry about is wetting your whistle so you don’t get hoarse from talking.”
“That’s such an embarrassing thing to say, I’m sure even Grandma is cringing.” I stop myself from laughing when I realize I’m essentially making a joke that my grandma is dead. I continue to be the worst. But when she sees my face, my mom’s small smile falters.
“It’s okay, you know?” She breaks eye contact to watch an old man walking through the graves on the other side of the cemetery. “To process this how you want. I’m sorry for trying to make you do it my way.”
“I don’t think making jokes is really processing it.”
“Are you kidding me? Jokes and laughter are the only thing that keep me going every day.Yourjokes and laughter.” She nods toward the flowers on my grandma’s grave. “Those flowers? They’re petunias.” She watches me for a second before laughing. “She fucking hated petunias.”
She bends over, hands on her knees as she continues to wheeze. I laugh hesitantly, and when she spots my bewildered face, she laughs harder. “She said they were the Dixie cups of flowers.”
Now I join in full force, more because of the absurdity than anything being funny. But it’s okay. It feelsniceto laugh after the days I’ve had. After the loss we’ve suffered. Everything with Corrine and Holden will work out in whatever way it needs to, but in the meantime, I’m going to take care of myself and be ready for them if they decide to give me another chance.
