Another tap comes.“Sammy?Can I come in?”
And because she’s Gran, she doesn’t even wait for an answer.The doorknob turns, and she steps into the room.In the dark, I can smell the vermouth, and a hint of her Princess Diana perfume, and it’s probably my imagination, but I think I can smell motor oil, too, and the cold concrete of the garage.She comes across the room, her steps unsteady in the dark, and she sounds like a tent in a high wind—all sorts of billowing and rustling, probably because she’s got sleeves like a magician.The mattress dips when she sits next to me.
“He needs some time,” Gran says.
I nod, but I guess it doesn’t mean anything when you’re lying down in the dark.
“I love you,” Gran says.“You are my sweet, wonderful boy, and I’m so proud of you.All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.So, if you found someone who makes you happy, that’s all that matters.”
I finally manage to say, “Thanks.”
“Gray’s very handsome,” she says.“And he’s got a great butt.”
“Gran!”
“What?We can talk like this now.”
“I don’t want to talk like this.”
“He’s very charming, too.”
“Great.You can date him.”
Gran laughs a little, and she finds my hand in the dark and squeezes.“What happened, my love?”
It’s too much, so I say, “It’s complicated.I guess we want different things.Wanted different things.”
She doesn’t say anything for a while.“He seemed like he really liked you.”
There’s nothing to say to that.
“Maybe you need to talk to him,” Gran says.“See if you can work it out.”
“There’s nothing to work out.”
“Well, maybe.And maybe not.But you won’t know unless you talk to him.”
“Trust me, I know.”
“Samuel Yarmark,” she says like she’s thinking about getting a switch.
“I do.And I don’t need you mucking around in my business, thanks very much.Just because I’m bisexual doesn’t mean you get to poke your nose in.”
I don’t even know what that means, but it pops out of me, and there’s this shocked, silent second, and then Gran starts to laugh for real.I don’t laugh, but I do catch myself smiling, probably because I feel like I’m going crazy.
“I’m fine, Gran,” I say when she stops laughing.“It’ll be okay.”
She makes a noise that could mean anything.And then she says, “I don’t want you to end up like your dad.”
“Yeah, well, that’s how everybody ends up, Gran.Sorry to break it to you.Everybody ends up alone.You, Dad, me.That’s how it is.”
Gran’s quiet for so long that I think maybe I hurt her feelings, or maybe she’s angry, or I don’t know what.But when she finally does say something, she sounds tired.Or resigned.“Your dad is alone, Sam, because he wants to be.Because it’s easier for him.And safer.”
“He’s alone because Mom walked out on him because she couldn’t hack it,” I say.“He’s alone because that’s what people do when you trust them.When you let them into your life and love them.They hurt you, and then they’re gone.Hell, Gran, you ought to know; you’ve only been divorced a million times.”
I hate that I said it as soon as it’s out of my mouth, but Gran laughs again.Quieter now.Her hand is tight around mine like one of us might drift off if she lets go.
“Maybe,” she says.“I guess you’re right, Sammy, since you’re so smart.But I’ll tell you one thing: being safe isn’t better than being sorry.You’ve got to take risks in life.Otherwise you’re not living at all, not really.”She stands, and the mattress creaks, but she’s still holding on to my hand.She gives me a weird little shake, like she’s saying goodbye, or like she wants to jostle me out of bed.Her voice is different when she speaks again.“And I’ll tell you something else, too.Your mother didn’t leave, Sammy.Your dad did.”
