“Can we get breakfast and skip the walk?” he asks, looking hopeful.
“No can do, but we can eat first if that takes the sting out of it.”“Only for you, Lolo.” My grandpa is the only person in the world who calls me that and hearing it in person settles something in me.
I get to work on making something for breakfast. I do my best to find something healthy, knowing this man probably has not been taking the best care of himself. If he had it his way, he would live off fried eggs, bacon, and cheeseburgers from the diner downtown.
When I set down the veggie omelet in front of him, he grimaces before looking up at me, “There’s a whole lot of green shit underneath those eggs.”
My whole body shakes as I try to hold in my laugh. “Yeah, those are called vegetables, and they were about one day from growing new friends; it’s a good thing I came over.”
He uses the tip of his fork to pull apart the top of the steaming omelet, inspecting it, “Cheese would have sufficed,” he mutters.
“Cheese probably would have added to your cholesterol problem. Eat the damn omelet.” I point my finger at him, scolding him the same way he used to do me about the same things.
“New York made you mean,” he says before finally putting a piece of the omelet in his mouth.
“See, not poison. New York made me not be a doormat.” Which is only half true, but he doesn’t need to know that. I put my hand on my hip and look at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell me it’s delicious, because I know it is.
I turn back to the stove and plop the veggie omelet onto my plate, my stomach grumbles as the smell wafts up. Turning around, I set my plate down and sit down at the table, ready to dig in.
“How is it going on the ranch? I bet it’s got to be a bit hard being back there again.” The humor is gone from his eyes, and concern replaces it.
It’s my turn to play with my food, because I don’t know how I feel about being back. My living situation is the worst, and seeing Weston is just…hard. But actually, spending my days on the ranch has felt good. I've missed being back home more than I was willing to let myself admit. Being surrounded by nature makes me feel grounded and steady. Plus, this right here, having a bad day and getting to come sit at my grandpas is more healing than any therapists chair I could sit in. Being back in Windy Peaks is strange, like I’m coming back to a version of me that I don’t know exists anymore. Part of me misses that old me, before everything happened, but I like the walls I put up around myself.
That’s a lot to say to my elderly grandpa, who probably needs to be reassured that his baby is doing okay, so I settle for, “It’s good, actually. I’ve got a lot to do and you know I like being busy. Plus, I get space for myself.” The cabin is less glamorous than a prison cell, but he doesn’t need to know the details.
The day with him passes by way too fast. I take advantage of the hot water at his house and enjoy a shower. It may be summer but that doesn’t mean that cold showers at the crack of dawn are pleasant. He, of course, thought it was weird that I shower here when I have my own place over there, but I told him Weston was working on the plumbing and then ran away before he could see through my life. Very mature of me, I must say.
“Okay, Gramps, I will be back to see you sometime this week. If you need anything just let me know.”
“You do the same kiddo, can’t wait.” We hug and he kisses my cheek before squeezing me one last time. With each little one, an old piece of me snaps back into place.
When I get to the truck, its old familiar smell fills my nose. There is a distinct aroma that old trucks with fabric seats have, it’s hard to explain, but it’s one of my favorites. When I turn the key in the ignition, it makes a clicking sound but doesn’t turn over. “Huh, that’s weird.”
It takes a few tries, but it finally roars to life, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. A moment too soon, because within seconds smoke is piling out of the hood and I know it’s bad.
My grandpa must hear the commotion and comes outside, with more of a limp than I would like, and pops the hood. “I’m no mechanic but I am pretty sure it’s not supposed to be smelling hot like this. It’s been burning oil like crazy lately. I’ll call my mechanic and see if they can get it towed and into the shop. Sorry, Lolo.”I rear my head back in surprise. “What are you sorry for? I just blew up your car.”
“She’s been on her last leg for a while. This isn’t your doing.”
It’s now that I realize I am completely stuck here. “Gramps, I’m going to call Weston to pick me up, okay? It’s all good. Go inside and get back to your game shows! He’ll be here before you know it.”
I tell myself I’m doing it for my grandpa, but a smaller voice inside my head says I’m a liar. My draw to him is in the past, or at least it should be.
Dialing his number feels foreign and all too familiar at the same time. I never deleted his contact. In the beginning I was sure he wouldcall and say he made a mistake. But as time went on and the call never came, I didn’t have the heart to delete the one last connection we had.
Now here we are.
He picks up on the first ring. “Hey, Willow, is everything okay?”
I clear my throat and try to get my brain to catch up, suddenly feeling all too nervous. “Yeah. Well, actually I kind of need your help if you’re available. If not don’t wor-”
I’m cut off before I can even get my sentence out. “I’m always available for you. What do you need?”
A lot, a drink, or maybe a grip because hearing him say he’s always available for me causes a flutter in my chest.
“Something happened with my grandpa’s truck and now it isn’t running. Is there a chance you could come get me and bring me back to the ranch?”
“Are you at Vern’s?”
