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Chapter Five
Seymour
June 6th…
Hannah and I have been dancing around each other, our attraction growing instead of fading, but we’re both cognizant of what acting on it can mean for the grands.
Little touches here and there, long looks across the table as we eat, almost kisses that are always interrupted. When the two of us do go out, my grandpa or Enola begging off for some reason, we draw closer, forgetting that we need to be smart because whatever happens between us, if anything does, doesn’t just impact her and I.
Our grandparents may have been okay with the status quo of breaking up and falling for other people all those years ago, but you’d have to be an idiot not to see what’s occurring now.
He’s courting her and she’s letting him.
I know what I feel for Hannah is more than merely a crush or an attraction because she’s convenient, it’s special. And I think she feels the same for me.
But, when you throw in what’s happening with the grands, it brings things into perspective. Do I intend to be with Hannah forever? Damn straight.
Does life always work out as we plan it to? Hell no.
Which means what if fate pulls a plot twist on us and we don’t last? That could derail our respective grandparents, which neither of us want to risk. Grandpa is the only family I have left. My parents are still alive, but I don’t really count them. They just happen to be people I’m related to.
Being with Enola again has rejuvenated him. He’s fighting, determined to see the next day, and the one after, and so on. It’s not that he’d given up exactly, but he’d sort of accepted that his best years were behind him and couldn’t, or wouldn’t, be convinced otherwise.
Do I put myself first and explore what Hannah and I might be to each other, chancing that it may not be what we thought? Or put my own needs aside and let my grandpa and Enola give their relationship another chance, that gut I’ve learned to trust wholeheartedly telling me this is their time?
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I feel as if there’s a big sign on my forehead, labeling me a mix between a coward and altruistic. I have to admit, it’s disconcerting.
The residents have welcomed us as if we’ve always been here, which is somewhat true for the grands. It doesn’t matter that they left, all that does is the fact they’ve returned. They say Sweetville is in your blood, rather by birth or choice, and once it’s there, you can’t, nor do you want to, get rid of it.
With that acceptance comes pros and cons. At least one that’s a little bit of both is their need to help. Including your romantic life, or lack of it, as the case may be. It’s as if they know I’ve decided to let my grandpa have his reunion with Enola, resigning myself to Hannah being the one that got away, the woman that has me saying it’s her or nobody else.
I don’t know if they’re aware of my decision and are messing with me or merely assume maybe the spark isn’t there between myself and Hannah, and have decided to find someone for her that will provide it. More than once, I’ve had people stop me and inquire about the type of man Hannah likes. What I think she’d enjoy on a date. Does she prefer flowers or chocolate? What’s her favorite color?
I’m ready to lose my mind. The first time it happened, I brushed it off, thinking they were just curious and wanted to get to know her. There were other questions that could’ve accomplished that, of course, but whatever.
The second, tenth, fifteenth, etc., I started to realize they were legitimately trying to set her up. As if she wasn’t already spoken for.
She’s not. You let her go.
I never had her to begin with.
Didn’t you?
My subconscious is a pain in the ass.
Because I’m right and you know it.
You’re grounded. Go to your corner.
Uhhhh…
I said what I said.
