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“I have to ask…is it the age?”
“It bothered me a little at the beginning, but since I’m not marrying this man, it doesn’t matter as long as he’s legal…and single,” I stress.
“So this has been established as a hot fling by whom?” Nonna zeros in on me.
“Me. Of course!” I state with pride.
Nonna smacks her lips and cackles with laughter.
I give her a piercing jokester l smirk. I’m trying to sniff out what she’s thinking.
“What?” I’m very curious.
“You want a hot fling?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I know he likes you. Very much.”
“Very sweet to think, Nonna. You’ve been around him once.” I pour my peppermint tea into my teal tea cup.
Nonna watches me to see if I’m doing it right. I don’t know why. She was the one who taught me how to pour tea at age five.
“I saw enough. I don’t need to know anything else, but why are you...resisting love? But, on second thought, my darling, that is your business.
You are not expected to tell me anything, but I am being nosy, and it’s good to talk to your elders.”
Nonna sticks her tongue out and pours her tea. I may have poured mine too fast.
“Goals, grandma.”
She gives me a stern nod in agreement.
“Well. Goals are healthy. But so is love, and they can even coexist. But what do I know? I’ve been through a tornado of relationships.” Nonna shrugs.
“You’re right. But Joaquin is here in Evergreen. My life isn’t here.”
“I’m in Evergreen too.” Nonna bats her eyes. “I do want to know something.”
“What’s that?” I clear my throat and blow over my tea.
I’ve had a tickle in my throat since yesterday morning. And my mouth is dry. I hope I’m not coming down with some odd spring-summer-ish cold. I swallow. But I’ve been drowsy. May need to heed Joaquin’s advice and relax a bit.
“If you come back and visit for Christmas or something like that. How would it feel to stop by the Side of the Road and, um…Joaquin is engaged, and Adam is going to have a mom.”
My hands grip my tea.
“Don’t go burn your mouth! Sip. Not gulp. We know you’d feel like shit. You’ll be regretful. Rightfully so.”
The tension that spreads across my chest is heavier than my chest. When it’s said like that, it feels daunting. I can already feel pockets of tears forming in my eyes’ corners.
“But, why do you say, rightfully so?”
“You’re a big softie forcing yourself to marry your career, and as someone who’s done that before, I know the feeling of regret, and yes, it’s real.”
“You think I’m a softie?” I sip my tea. Very carefully. I don’t want any more judgment regarding my gulping or preference for my tea.
“You used to demand every grocery store clerk, elevator attendant, or passerby to greet your baby dolls; if they didn’t, you’d cry or be emotionally upset. It was hard to get you to understand that people won’t slow down to speak to a child’s doll. You would be more upset if they ignored your doll over you.”
