Page 10 of Legally Mine

"Oh, Skylar!" she cried with mock placement of her hand to her heart. "You scared me, sneaking in here like that."

I leaned onto the table and buried my head in my hands. My body didn't ache so much anymore, but I still felt groggy from the Percocet.

"Is there any hot water?" I asked through my fingers as my hair fell over my face.

"I can make some. What do you want, tea?"

Another loud peal of laughter echoed down the stairs. I groaned and nodded as Bubbe bustled about the kitchen, uncharacteristically accommodating.

"Are you feeling better, bubbela? After your...mono?"

I peered suspiciously at my grandmother, who stood with her back to me as she put some hot water on to boil. I'd have bet ten thousand dollars she knew I didn't have mono, but Bubbe was the queen of "don't ask, don't tell." It was the game she had also played with my sex life. And, apparently, her son's.

"Who's the broad up in Dad's room?" I changed the subject, leaning back in my chair and pushing my hair out of my face. I needed a shower, but I really didn't want to go upstairs and listen to my dad getting busy.

"Broad? Oh, you mean Katie." Bubbe turned around to grab a mug from the cabinet. She glanced at me and frowned. "Skylar, why do you have to sit like that? No woman should be sitting around with her legs spread like a man on the subway."

I couldn't help but smile as I continued to slouch further in my chair, but nevertheless crossed one ankle over the other. If Bubbe was back to correcting things like my posture, I knew she wasn't so worried about me anymore.

"Katie. Yeah, I heard her name," I said. I traced a finger over the orange hexagonal patterns of the tablecloth, something Bubbe had probably owned since the late sixties. "I was asking who she is. And why she's making inappropriate noises under my bedroom door."

"Oh, Skylar, she's doing nothing of the sort!" Bubbe protested a little too loudly. She pulled the milk from the refrigerator with a flourish, then turned to face me, one small hand perched on her hip. "Katie Corleone is...your father's...friend. She's been coming around a bit for the last several months. I told you about her; I know I did."

"Maybe," I mumbled petulantly, but I remembered just fine. "You think that's the best idea when he's still in therapy? Addicts are supposed to be on the wagon for a year before they get into new relationships."

Bubbe gave a shrug that just about broke my heart. "She seems to make him happy."

"Does she."

"She does. And God knows my Danny could use some of that these days."

I watched Bubbe as she continued fixing my tea, but she didn't say anything more. Before I could reply, two pairs of footsteps came tromping down the stairs. My dad and a woman I assumed was Katie Corleone stepped into the kitchen. Bubbe waved a distant hand in their direction, but stayed focused on my tea.

I, on the other hand, gawked.

Katie Corleone didn't look like a person; she looked like a cartoon character. She was tall, a lot taller than my dad's spare frame, mostly due to her five-inch, red platform heels and the beehive of black hair piled on her head. Her bright pink lipstick shone against overly tanned skin. She couldn't have been more than thirty, but her skin made her look older. She wore massive green hoops from her ears, extremely tight boot-cut jeans, and a shirt that had rhinestones glued in the shape of a cat's face across the front.

"Well, hello there!" she exclaimed as she pranced into the kitchen, heels tapping loudly against the linoleum floor. She held out a hand with long, fake nails. "You must be Skylar, honey. I'm Katie. Your dad has told me so much about you, and ain't you just as gorgeous as he said!"

Jesus. The woman sounded like Fran Drescher. Stunned, I allowed her to shake my hand vigorously. When I got it back, my fingers smelled faintly of artificial strawberries.

"Heya, Pips!" Dad said from behind Katie.

Both of his hands, good and bad, rested familiarly on her hips. He had to peek around her shoulder since he couldn't see over the mass of hair. He was still in his bathrobe––I still hadn't seen him wear anything else in the house since I'd come home––but he had a goofy smile on his face that could only be caused by one thing.

Gross.

"Listen, baby, I gotta scoot," Katie said, turning to my dad. "But I'll see you tonight at Nick's, and then we can have some real fun, all right, handsome?"

With wide eyes, I looked to Bubbe, who was watching Katie and my dad with a hand over her mouth to cover a scowl. When Katie finished kissing her slurpy goodbyes, Bubbe turned abruptly to grab my tea, which she set in front of me with a slosh.

"Thanks," I murmured, although she clearly wasn't listening.

"I'm just going to walk Katie out," Dad said with a sheepish grin.

"Bye, Skylar! Bye, Mrs. Crosby!" Katie called before the heavy front door slammed shut behind her and Dad.

I turned to Bubbe. "What. Was. That?"

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