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Yes, and I’d love the opportunity, but I know what matters to me. This matters to me. “I’m not like you, Grandma. I don’t live for work the way you do.”
“You love the city.”
“I love you, too.” I’ll be back in the city eventually. That’s the part neither of us want to say. If she’s that unwell, she won’t be here long. I won’t stay long.
“River.” She packs a million pounds of intention into the word. Most of all: this isn’t our deal. But we didn’t agree to those terms, either. Grandma said one month, no fussing, take it or leave it.
Now, I’m proposing the entire summer, and fussing. But I’m working on the fussing.
Grandma swallows another sip of wine from her nearly empty glass. She speaks slowly. Carefully. “You need to think about your future.”
“This is my future.” I reach out and take her hand. “I don’t want to look back and think about what could have been.”
“But you will if you keep putting me first.”
“I’m going out tonight, aren’t I?”
“Are you there, River?” she asks. “Or will I get a call from Deanna in a few weeks, asking why you’re never present? Why you’re always stuck in your head? What it is you can’t stop thinking about?”
“Why would she call instead of coming over?”
“Will I?” she repeats.
“I can’t control her actions.”
“You know what I mean.”
I do. She wants me to promise I won’t get lost in thought. She wants me to promise I won’t let her illness get in the way of my romantic life. But I can’t promise that. This is a big deal. And Grandma is, will always be, my first priority.
“She likes you.”
“She likes me enough.”
“Sweetheart, what are you talking about? She was looking at you like she wants to have her way with you.”
“She was not.”
“She was. And when you went to her house today—”
“You saw that?”
“I live here, don’t I?” she asks. “What did you two do there?”
“My sex life is none of your business.”
She smiles. “Do we need to have the talk again?”
“Fuck off.”
Her smile widens. “Okay. Let’s make a deal—”
“We already have a deal. You don’t have any bargaining power.”
“You’d deny a sick woman?” A playful tone drops into her voice. It’s a joke. Only it’s not a joke, too. It’s the truth.
And it works like a charm. “Are you going to use that every time you don’t get your way?” I ask.
“Of course.”
