“Yes,” she answers so quickly that I laugh.
“Really? I thought the best things in life are simple...”
“They are.” She nods. “But there’s usually something dancing around trying to fuck it all up.”
“Gramma!” I gasp. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss before.”
She chuckles, deep and throaty. “I’m sure you have,” she says, then waves a hand in the air. “I’ll put a dollar in the swear jar.”
I smirk at her. “I thought it was only a quarter...”
“Inflation,” she reasons, then leans back on her gloved hands and sighs. “What happened?”
“Nothing and everything.” I lick my lips, trying to explain it all. “His wife died. We got drunk, got tattoos, and he told me not to marry Donavan.”
She tilts her head. “Well, are you sure you want to marry Donavan?”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe you should ask yourself why you care if he asked you not to do something you’re certain about.” She wipesher brow and stares out at the yard. Golden hues pierce the sky and make the lush grass of summer glow.
“Are you psychoanalyzing me?”
“Yes,” she answers quickly. “It’s good for you.”
“Well, I guess it’s because I respect him and his opinion. And, if I’m honest, there’s a part of me that believes in some weird alternate universe where he and I could just be friends and not have...this.” I gesture in front of me like our situationship is tangible.
“Don’t be his friend, Julia,” Gramma says.
“But I want to—”
“Your heart is always going towant. But if you love Donavan, if you want to hold on to your promise to him, you have to do it on your own without the opinion of some random guy you met on an airplane and slept with for a while.”
My cheeks flame at being called out by Gramma regarding my sex life.
“See it through, honey,” she says as she stands. “I’m going to go in and have some iced tea. It’s hot today.”
thirty-five
I’M SORRY.
I meant every word.
I read the texts sent at 7:07 this morning over and over, contemplating whether or not to respond. Finally, I type back what’s simple and true:
Me too. I meant every word.
He doesn’t respond.
eighth chance
FEBRUARY
6 MONTHS LATER
thirty-six
“OH, JULIA, THAT DRESSis beautiful!” My mother holds her hands to her mouth with tears in her eyes while I rotate on the pedestal in front of the three-panel mirror.
