She slipped in and out of Spanish as easily as I did with Southern dialect.
“Must have been nice to always have someone around.”
“It was. And it’s nice to be here with you, too, Joyce,” Gabriella said. The way her eyes rolled to the left, she must have just come to the realization.
Her kind words surprised me. I hadn’t given much thought to Gabriella being my roommate beyond the simple inconvenience of the shared kitchen. But she was right. It was nice knowing there was someone else in the house. In case of emergency, if nothing else. “I’m glad to have you here as well.”
Before things got too sappy, I slung my purse over my shoulder, said goodbye, and headed out. I thought about Gabriella’s words all the way there and wondered if, subconsciously, I had come up with the idea to make Grandma Jewel’s house into a duplex because I wanted or needed some form of companionship. Sharing. Love.
Then I remembered the math. Going from two incomes to sole breadwinner changes your perspective.
I barely recognized Elijah when he bounded through the gate. I was looking for a little boy, four or five inches shorter than the young man who came all the way up to my shoulders when I hugged him. “EJ! What is your momma feeding you?”
“Hi, Grandma!” He held on to me tight, and I forgot all my hesitations about keeping him for a few weeks. This boy was golden to me, looking like my son more than his father, with his curly locs, reddish-brown skin, and a small gap between his two front teeth.
“Everything go okay on the flight?”
“Yes, ma’am. I met the pilots!”
“Oooh! What did you think of them?”
“They were all right. They had a lot of equipment and monitors.”
“Sounds about right. You hungry?”
I wasn’t finished with the two-word question and he was nodding already. A cash register cha-chinged in my head when I thought about my grocery bill for the next few weeks.
After I texted my daughter to let her know her son had made it safely, we waited for his luggage at the rotating bin, where Elijah gave me more highlights from his flight alone. He’d earned a pin with wings and a sticker for his bravery during the flight, and the attendant had given him an extra packet of pretzels because he’d asked so politely.
We grabbed his luggage and returned to my car. He hopped into the front seat, which surprised me for a moment. “You in the front seat now?”
“Grandma, I’m ten.”
“That you are, EJ,” I agreed.
We buckled up for the forty-five-mile drive from the Lubbock airport to Robin Creek. I had plenty of questions for him about school, teachers, friends, and church—which, I suppose, encompassed the entirety of his life.
He answered. He liked his teachers at the intermediate school, he had friends in every class, and he was a little sad about missing Vacation Bible School at church. “But I’m glad to be with you, Grandma. I miss you since…you know.” He fell silent and lowered his head.
The d-word, again, stumbling awkwardly into the conversation with my grandson.
“EJ, you know I still love you, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And I’m always going to be here for you. Any time you want to talk to me, just ask your mother.”
He jerked his head. “Could you get me a phone, Grandma? Two of my friends have phones already—Mike and Randall.”
He must have thought telling me their names would have more impact. “No, siree. A phone is a big responsibility. And a monthly bill.”
The spark left his eyes again. “My mom and dad don’t want me on their phones. All I have is a tablet.”
I thought,Poor thang.All he has is a minicomputer that cost several hundred dollars.
“And I can’t even use the tablet every day because of homework and stuff,” he continued to plead his case. “If I had a phone, I could call you anytime.”
What in the world? EJ had game? “I can’t override your parents’ decision that you shouldn’t have a phone right now. Maybe you could use that tablet to make a presentation letting them know why you need one now that you’re ten. But you must have valid reasons.” Just that quickly, I slipped into Grandma mode, scheming with this child to get what he wanted from his parents. Mind you, if he were my child, the conversation would have ended abruptly and resolutely a long time ago.
