Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Gracie opens the window with a hesitant smile on her face and a dark bruise on her forehead. I grimace at the sight of it.
But through the surface level injuries, her expression is almost relaxed, and her colorful eyes look bright and vibrant. Even her curly hair looks shinier and springier.
“Hey, Danny.”
“Hey, Gracie.”
We start talking at the same time.
“Listen, I?—”
“I wanted to?—”
She sits on the inside windowsill, smiles, and gestures toward me. “You go first.”
I lean against the window frame and gather my thoughts. “I know I can’t fully understand what you’re going through. I feel like I made things weird the other day, when we were watching the movie…and, well, I’m sure you want time to process what happened with your dad, and we don’t need to talk about it right now. I love being your best friend, and I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”
I expect to see relief on Gracie’s face after hearing what I had to say. Instead, there’s a flicker of disappointment in her eyes.
She pauses, then starts nodding, her curls bouncing with the movement. “Uh, thanks. I guess you’re right. Ithasbeen a long day, and I’m getting a little tired. I appreciate you coming over, though.”
My heart sinks as I watch her bite the inside of her cheek.Is she mad at me for what happened with her dad?
Her eyes don’t reflect the comfortable smile on her lips when she adds, “I love being your best friend, too.”
The word “friend” settles in my stomach and leaves behind a weight, growing heavier with every passing second. Refocusing on what she needs, my stinging disappointment fades away. I promised to support her, and I will.Always.
I force a smile. “Sounds good. Should I still stop by tomorrow to see Mae?”
Gracie nods. “Definitely. She remembers you from when we were kids. She’s obviously heard a lot about you over the years.”
I run my hands through my hair to prevent myself from hugging her. I don’t want to make anything weirder. “Great. See you both tomorrow.”
She gives a small wave. “Yep, see you then.”
As I walk across the lawn to my house, I can’t help but feel that our conversation seems incomplete.Is this all she wanted me over for tonight?
I rush home from school as soon as the final bell rings. I’m excited to see Mae again, and I’m anxious to check on Gracie. I stop home quickly to cut some red tulips from the flower patch in my backyard. Hopefully, the flowers will cheer her up.
Where my house is lined with begonias and tulips, Gracie’s has rocks and green plants that don’t require any water. When she was growing up, her mom had loved to garden. Two big, yellow rose bushes had framed their porch, with rows of red flowers blooming down the sidewalk in front of their house. After her death, her dad had landscapers remove everything, even the roses.
It feels odd walking through Gracie’s front door in pure daylight instead of climbing through her bedroom window in the dark. All of the windows in her family room are open, letting insunshine that lights up the foyer. Usually, there’d be beer stains on the carpet, but it must’ve been professionally cleaned.
I check the ends of the flowers I tied together to make sure they’re not dripping on the floor and close the door behind me. The sound of Gracie’s laughter fills my ears, seeming lighter and airier than normal, no doubt from Mae’s slightly unhinged personality.
“Danny, is that you? We’re in the kitchen!” Gracie shouts.
“If he can’t use basic judgment to deduce we’re in the kitchen, Bee, he better pray for a football scholarship to college. He ain’t getting there on smarts,” I overhear.
Laughing at my own expense, I walk into the kitchen with a genuine smile. Their hands are dusted with flour, messy from making bread. An open mason jar sits on the counter, and the goo inside looks like oatmeal’s evil step-cousin. Mae must’ve brought her legendary sourdough starter all the way from Florida.
Gracie looks like spring incarnate in a pale yellow, knee-length sundress. Her curls are tied back in a low ponytail with a matching yellow ribbon. I crane my neck to examine her head and see how she’s healing. The swelling is down completely, but the lingering bruise around the small cut is still dark brown in color, turning a greenish-yellow around the edges.
In contrast, the bruise circling Mae’s eye is fresh and bright purple, and her lip is swollen. I only let my eyes linger briefly before the guilt overwhelms me. I know it was the right decision to call her, but I feel awful that Mae went through the same abuse as her granddaughter before that asshole was taken away in handcuffs.
Bruising aside, Mae looks nice, dressed in a classic white button down shirt and brown linen pants. A honey-colored ring sits safely on the countertop, away from the sticky dough, and itbrings a smile to my face. I shake my head, giving a soft chuckle. Mae and her bees.
