Choke him with my own hands or stab him with the letter opener next to his laptop? The former is laborious and takes too much time, but the latter is messy.
I concentrate on Grandpa and the overtime pay, desperately clinging to control. “I see. Yeah, fine. We can do that.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Aspen
Grant wasn’t kidding about people working on Saturday. A bunch of associates are in, including Larry and Jesse. Amy is missing, but then maybe she finished everything already or is working from home.
My head feels like it’s full of wet cotton balls, but I drink two cups of coffee to get the gears turning. I don’t know how Grant can function.
He spends most of the time in his office after telling me to do “whatever tasks need to be done.” I have no idea what that even means, but I’d rather die than ask.
So I tinker on my laptop and do some admin stuff, like filling out my time sheet, which is due next Friday. I also organize his calendar, making sure everything looks great.
I see a lunch appointment with Yvette on Monday. I almost do a double take at the two red hearts next to “Yvette.” That doesn’t seem like something Grant would do. But his previous assistant was apparently a no-nonsense woman. She also didn’t work until midnight because she was that efficient—and because Grant didn’t hate her and make her redo everything two million times just for the hell of it. So…I kinda doubt the hearts were her doing.
Guess the double hearts are Grant’s thing. And this Yvette must be somebody he’s dating.
The weirdest feeling comes over me. Of course he’s been with other women after fucking a girl who was just a bet to him. I just wonder how he labeled me on his phone. Bet-sy? The Idiot? Easy Lay?
If he’s putting hearts next to her name, maybe she’s the one he’s going to marry. My gut churns harder, and I realize I’m angry and sad and resentful. He’s won—moved on and is leading a fulfilling life with money and respect and power. Whereas I lost and am going fast down a one-way street that ends in a brick wall.
It’s so unfair. Why couldn’t I have just one win? Something I could look at and be happy about?
The lunch appointment also has a note underneath:Send a bouquet of white lilies to Yvette’s home before lunch.
They must be Yvette’s favorite, I think bitterly, and make sure to order the biggest and most expensive one to be delivered on Monday, while praying Grant develops gout before then. It would serve him right.
I leave at noon without telling Grant. He said the work was ending at noon, and I don’t want to give him an opportunity to dump more bullshit busywork on me. I always visit Grandpa on Saturdays, and I want to do that before the evening shift at the bar. Although the Orange Care Center is a great place, I want everyone to know he’s loved, and that I’m keeping an eye on him.
I’m the only one he has. And he’s the only one I have. I’ve grown apart from my friends, even Suyen. We just aren’t in the same place anymore. She graduated Napa Aquinas College, found a job at a vineyard like she always wanted and now is married with two gorgeous children. Last I heard, she was busy with work and her local PTA, which doesn’t surprise me, but we haven’t seen each other in ages. We only know what we’re up to when we see each other’s posts on social media. Zack’s the only one from my college years who’s still in my orbit, but he’ll move on soon enough when he falls in love with the right girl and realizes he needs to do something more with his life than bartending.
The only constant in my life now is Grandpa. I don’t know what I’ll do without him, even as I lose a little more of him each day.
The center is a bright yellow building, like someone squeezed the sun into a large square box. Sunflowers grow in the left section of the garden. Last year, they had red and purple morning glories there. They change every year, based on the residents’ votes.
“Hey, Aspen,” Gi-Hoon says. He’s one of the center’s weekend receptionists, a father of three, and his mother lives at the center. The fact that he chose to put his own mom here is one of the things that weighed most heavily in my decision to pick this place over the others.
“Hi.” I sign in.
“You look tired. Long week?”
“Yeah. I started a new job.”
“Good for you.” He smiles. “Kenny’s in the activity room.”
I smile back, then head to the memory unit on the third floor and go into the huge activity room. Other seniors are watching some kind of standup comedy on TV and hollering lines that don’t make any sense. But it doesn’t matter as long as they’re enjoying themselves.
I find Grandpa sitting by the window. The tan, robust man who seemed as solid as a thousand-year-old oak is gone. Now he’s frail, with almost translucent skin. He doesn’t seem as tall as he used to, but he still stands with his back straight and shoulders spread like a dancer.
“Hi, Grandpa,” I say softly, praying he’s having one of his better days.
He turns around and smiles. “Kat.”
I hold my breath, wondering if it’s going to be one ofthosedays, then quickly paste on a smile, not wanting to distress him. His eyes are clear, but he isn’t quite with me today. He confuses me with Grandma often. His mind refuses to accept she’s gone.
He takes my hand in his and tugs me closer. “Look at the sunflowers. Aren’t they pretty? They almost look like your favorites.”
