That’s it.
I’m a fucking goner.
I’m falling in love with my wife.
30
JULES
Birds chirp and butterflies flutter by. A warm breeze stirs the scent of freshly-cut grass in the air around us.
Great-Grandma leans forward and takes a sip of her white soup. “Isn’t this delightful?”
“Yes. So delightful.” I bring my own spoon to my lips and swallow heavily.
Another day, another mouthful of flavorless beans.
When I called Josephine this morning about returning the pearls she loaned me for my wedding, she invited me to have a late lunch with her today. One-on-one.
So now, we’re in the garden gazebo, enjoying the lovely spring afternoon. And yes, we’re having that damn soup again.
Yet still, I’m grateful for the time with my great-grandmother. I hardly ever get to spend time alone with her. I only ever see her at family dinner when the rest of the Lannister evil spawn-dom is around, poisoning the atmosphere with their vitriol and their bad vibes toward me. I’ve got to admit that hanging out alone with Great-Grandma is nice.
Despite the soup.
She offers me a pleased smile across the table. “Congratulations again on your marriage, Julissa. Lincoln seems to be a responsible man. A good choice. I’m proud of you.” She nods solemnly.
I run a clammy hand down my thigh, smoothing out the fabric of my short dress. “Thank you for saying that, Great-Grandma. Lincoln loves me dearly. And I love him.” I swallow again. This time, it’s a mouthful of acidic guilt.
How is this marriage lienotgoing to backfire? Terribly?
The elderly woman nods, holding a level of confidence in me and my new husband that we clearly don’t deserve. “You’ll have a good life with him. He’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
“Like Great-Grandpa did for you?” I dare to ask, suddenly curious about the husband my great-grandmother never talks about. “I hope Lincoln and I can have a fairytale romance like yours.” I sigh theatrically.
I wait for a forlorn, nostalgic look to appear on her face. Longing. Grief. Mourning. Something along those lines.
Instead, the woman blatantly rolls her eyes. “Financial security was all your great-grandfather ever offered me. Well, that and chlamydia.”
I exhale in a rush of surprise and my soup spit-rockets out of my mouth, flying across the pristine embroidered tablecloth. “Huh?!”
“Oh, clean yourself up!” Josephine scolds, elegantly handing me a cloth napkin.
“Ex-excuse me…” I use the napkin to blot my chin and the corners of my lips.
At that moment, Humphrey passes by, slowly pushing a wheelbarrow of freshly-trimmed branches. He tips his straw hat in greeting, and I don’t miss the concern on his face. Clearly, he overheard my great-grandmother’s confession. When she giveshim a scolding stare, he picks up his pace, wandering off to the other side of the yard.
“Your great-grandfather was a woman’s worst nightmare,” the old lady continues her confession. “He was mean. Unfaithful. Disloyal. A pain in the tookus. His shenanigans embarrassed me on a regular basis.”
For a moment, I’m stunned. Shocked. Speechless. At an absolute loss for words. This is not the family fairytale that’s been replaying in my mind all these years.
“I’m…I’m…Wow…I had no idea that you were in an unhappy marriage,” I say when I can finally speak again.
She nods slowly, her rueful stare falling to the side and revealing a heavy sadness I’ve never seen on her face before.
Now, I have questions. A lot of questions. But I start with the one that feels most obvious. “So, why are you so insistent that your great-grandchildren get married now?”
She briefly purses her thin lips. “For stability, girl. For security. To ensure that your children will always have a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. To ensure that they will have decent clothes on their backs. To ensure that they can go to school. ”
