–Grant: I shall wait with bated breath.
I Google the small Italian bistro where I waited tables last year, and send him the link. That done, I look around my room. I have today off from my job at the library.
The air feels stuffy and stale.Okay. Time for action.I open the window, throw out the piles of cough drop wrappings and start cleaning my room.
I email some classmates to see if I can borrow their notes. Most of them email me their notes, no problem. Clara, who likes to handwrite, sends me pictures, with a warning:No guarantees you can read this!It turns out to be pointless, because her cursive is superb.
On Saturday, I call my grandparents. They moved the day because tomorrow is their fiftieth anniversary. They were thinking about going to San Diego, but changed their mind at the last minute. They’re going to celebrate in town at a nearby restaurant instead.
“Happy early anniversary!” I say.
“Thank you,” Grandpa says. He holds Grandma’s hand and grins.
“Doing anything special?” I ask innocently. The daisies I ordered should arrive tomorrow morning. But I’m not saying anything because it’s a surprise. Grandma adores yellow daisies—they’re the flowers Grandpa gave her on their first date. Her eyes light up every time she tells me the story. My grandparents are so cute.
“Dinner. Dancing. Celebration.” Grandma says with a contented smile.
“That’s awesome,” I say, even though a small pang pinches my heart. If it weren’t for me and my college tuition, they’d be able to afford a nice getaway for the occasion. But as soon as I graduate and get a job, I’m going to send them on a nice trip with the money I make.
“So, how’s your week been?” Grandma says. “You seem a little pale.”
Damn it.I thought I was doing a great job of faking a haven’t-been-sick mien. “It’s the light. The maintenance guy swapped out the bulb, and I think it’s harsher than the one I had before. By the way, guess what outrageous thing happened to me!” I say quickly, trying to get her mind off my paleness. There’s no need to worry them. I come down with a sore throat and general achiness occasionally when I’m stressed or working too much or something. But it only happens once every two to three years, and I recover, no problem.
“What?” Grandpa asks, leaning closer to the camera.
“I did this paper on the tango, and the professor had me dance with him!”
“Oh my.” The skin around Grandma’s eyes crinkles. “You must’ve done an amazing job! But did you have the right shoes?” She turns to look at Grandpa. “Did she take her dance shoes with her…?”
“No, I was in my sneakers. But it didn’t matter. He was awful. Worse than Barry.”
Grandpa frowns. “Did you twist anything? Get hurt?”
“No, because my partner for the paper stepped in and tangoed with me.” My voice goes slightly breathless.
His frown deepens. “I can’t decide if that’s good or bad. College kids can get a bit reckless and showy.”
“Oh, it was good. Most definitely good. He was amazing at it, actually. Didn’t try anything fancy and was careful to make sure I was okay the entire time.”
While Grandpa nods with relief, Grandma props her chin in her hand and squints at me. “You like this boy?”
“What? That’s such a…random question.”Me? Like Grant?Come on. I let out a laugh. “No.”
“Then why did you get that look in your eyes?”
“What look?”
Grandpa points at me. “That dreamy look.”
I laugh. “The camera must be glitching.”
“I know the difference, child. And yes, I recognize it because I see that look in the mirror every time I think about your grandpa,” she says with a slightly teasing smile.
“I mean, okay, sure, he’s a nice guy. Butlike?” I shake my head, trying to hide something light and bubbly inside me.
“It’s difficult to like a not-nice guy,” Grandpa says. “And I hope, for your own safety and happiness, you get yourself a nice young man.”
“No, no, no.” I wave them away.
