Grandma gives me a look, and I read it for what it is.
“Hey, do you mind checking the car for a small blue bag? It has a present for them,” I whisper.
She looks hesitant, but spares me a glance, then one at my grandma, and understands. “I’ll be right back.”
After she’s out of sight, I take a seat. “What’s up, Gran?”
She takes a pack of smokes out, and my mom catches the sound with her keen hearing. “Mom, take it outside!”
“I’m not lighting it up yet!” she yells.
I hold a chuckle back. Mom disappears back into the kitchen, and Gran rolls her eyes. Pointing to the front door where Stevie ran past, she says, “She reminds me of myself when I was younger.” I blink. Gran rarely talks about her past, not since Grandpa passed away when I was seven. “Innocent and sweet-looking, with a huge pack of spunk and fight inside of her. People will mistake her kindness for weakness if they haven’t already.” She laughs. “Once she’s completely out of her shell, she’ll hit them three times as hard.”
A grin escapes me as I think of how accurate her statement is. Stevie’s proven to be more than spunky. However, I’ve never seen Gran act innocent. “That sounds about right. Is that what you wanted to talk about, Gran? She can only look for that bag for so long.”
“Oh, hush, boy. She’s not an idiot, she knows we’re talking about her. And if she’s smart like me, she’ll give us at least five minutes.” Gran takes a sip of lemonade. I chuckle, knowing she’s right. “When I saw you two together and the way you look at each other, it caught me off guard, and it felt like I was backin the sixties. I had just graduated high school, and my parents decided to move us to this town from Ohio.” She takes a cigarette and hangs it in between her fingers as she stares up at the ceiling. This is when I realize I’m finally going to hear the story I’ve been wanting to for years. “He was a regular at the old diner, only two years older than me. He sat in my section every time, but never said anything other than his order, along with a few pleasantries. He also over-tipped. One day I got tired of him not asking me out when it was clear to every other waitress and cook that he wanted to.” She waves the unlit cigarette. “Of course it was a different time. God forbid a woman ask a man out.” Gran looks down. “I came with his check one day and told him that until he took me on a proper date, he’d no longer be able to sit in my section.”
We both laugh. “And did he?”
She raises a brow. “He came back the next morning with a bouquet of a dozen long-stemmed red roses and took me out to dinner that same night.” My lips tilt up remembering how Stevie was also braver with her feelings than I was. Maybe they are more alike than I realized. “We got married three months after that, and everyone thought I was knocked up. The gossip of us getting hitched lasted for weeks.” She smiles and shakes her head. “Everybody always told us it would never end well. Of course, divorce was frowned upon, there was no getting out of it once it happened, but they never tried to understand how much we loved each other.” Gran sits up straight. “If they would’ve opened their minds and looked at us, just looked at us, they would’ve seen that there was something special, something worth risking, something fucking rare.” She tilts my chin up, and I stare at her in awe of how deep her and Grandpa’s relationship went. “Being able to live that kind of love and having it for over forty years is something everyone should experience, but rarely do. That is one of the most important lessons I learned whenyour grandpa passed.” She taps my nose. Her sharing like this is unlike her, and I’m so entranced by her opening up that I hardly hear the front door open. “I’m not telling you to get hitched, but don’t be a moron either. You have a rare gem there.”
The words replay in my mind over and over again. When Stevie takes my hand for us to meet with Joan, I mindlessly follow, wondering how she could compare us to a couple that got married three months after they began dating.
My phone buzzesin my pocket for the fifth time in a row, and I know it’s time to check what I’m suspecting is the Scooby Gang group chat.
Emma: How’s everything going with your new girlfriend meeting the parents?
Jake: Stop being so nosy.
Kamila: I’m sure everything is fine, Em.
Emma: Jake, shut it. And Kami, that’s not fair. You got to see them be all cute together the other day. I like Stevie and want to get to know her better.
Jake: Jeez, dramatic much?
Rolling my eyes, I type out a quick response to my annoying but well-meaning friends.
Me: We’re fine. Mom and Gran loved her. She’s meeting my friend now and they seem to be getting along. I like her, too, Em. I won’t fuck it up. Now, I’m going to be with said girlfriend. Stop texting or I’m muting you guys for the rest of the week.
My friend answers in a heartbeat.
Em: Fine.
Putting my phone away, I continue to listen in on my friend and girlfriend’s conversation.
“It’s so cool that you have a band,” Stevie tells Joan for the millionth time. She turns to me. “We have to go to one of their gigs.”
Joan smirks. “Yeah, Levi. You guys really should come to one of our gigs.” Her smile is pure sarcasm. She’s invited me to the small gigs she’s had, but they’re always around here. Joan was fine staying where we grew up, which was one of the many reasons we broke up. She’s a vet tech in the only veterinarian office in town, and on the weekends, she plays with her band. The woman seems to be doing well for herself, and from what she’s sent me, they’re pretty good.
“I’m assuming you’ve invited him and he refuses to come because it’s, well, here?” Stevie lifts a brow, knowing me all too well.
I cross my arms, giving her a look I know she’ll recognize. Her pupils dilate, and I hear a groan from Joan. “You guys can eye fuck each other later. This is a professional environment, okay?” Her pink hair moves with her shaking head.
Stevie snickers. “Sorry.” She points a finger at Joan. “To make it up to you, I promise to get him to come to one of your gigs this summer.”
I scoff. “I am standing right here.” I’m glad they’re getting along, but who knows where I’ll be this summer, or rather, wherewe’llbe.
Joan nods. “Deal.”
