“Yeah. Sober will be best.”
And we both cracked up like we were watching old reruns ofGood Times.
Chapter 19
As the morning light brightened my bedroom, I lay there, cocooned in the soft sheets, pondering the direction my life had taken. It’s funny how life can change in a second. An accident, a well-meaning word spoken, an overheated oven, a computer’s calculation, a social media algorithm—all these can impact the trajectory of someone’s life, without any one person to blame.
The wordblamerang in my brain. Did I blame myself? Why did I feel the need to blame anyone at all? What if this was all a part of God’s big plans? Part of how life panned out? In my sixty years of living, I’d seen enough good people suffer to understand that you don’t have to do anything wrong to find yourself struggling. In school, we taught students that if they worked hard enough, long enough, they would eventually become successful.
The longer I lived, the more I realized this was a lie. Nothing is promised. Eat, drink, and be merry, like the birds chirping outside do. Their tweeting alone brightened a melancholy morning.
My thoughts wandered to Richard’s words about faith as well.Good days ahead.I decided that, with all the uncertainty, the best I could hope for was a good day right now. Today. I imaginedmyself smiling throughout this Saturday, hugging EJ, laughing with Gabriella. She had the day off, which meant she’d surely be cooking up a storm.
The sound of laughter drifted through the house, pulling me from my introspection. I could hear Elijah and Gabriella chatting in the kitchen, their voices a comforting melody. They were my “eat, drink, and be merry” crew, and I was thankful for them.
The smell of breakfast hadn’t reached me yet. Maybe I could get in there and help with whatever they were cooking. I tossed off my covers, stretched through my normal morning aches and pains, took care of my hygiene, and padded down the hallway to investigate.
“Good morning!” I greeted, surprised to find them both eating cereal—a far cry from Gabriella’s usual culinary magic. “What’s all this?”
“Grandma Joyce, we have an adventure planned for today!” Elijah beamed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s called the Kitchen Chef Showdown.”
“Yep,” Gabriella chimed in, her grin wide. “I’m entering another cooking contest soon, and—”
“Gabriella, that’s wonderful!” I interrupted with joy. “You need to get back out there, keep trying. And beat Mrs. Maine. She’s your Bobby Flay.”
“Okay, okay, Ms. Joyce. I see you tryna stay current with your analogies,” she sang. “Brownie points for you!”
“We’re making brownies?” Elijah asked eagerly.
“No. It’s an expression. She gets points for knowing about Bobby Flay.” Gabriella returned her attention to me. “This contest is one where you have to make an impromptu meal. We’re heading to the farmers market to pick out some random ingredients, andthen we’ll have our own little cooking challenge, right here. Like theChoppedcooking show. We have to make a meal out of the ingredients, no matter what.”
“Oh, wow.” I played along, clinging desperately to my earned brownie points. UnlikeBeat Bobby Flay, I’d never seenChopped, but I got the gist. “Mind if I join you?”
“Yes!” Elijah said, pumping his fist into the air. “Our challenge is going to be amazing.”
I made myself a quick bite—toast and eggs—and we were off to the farmers market just outside of town. Leave it to Gabriella to have us hunting for the oddest ingredients in a place that felt like a global marketplace. The clashing smells, the vendors bellowing for us to taste-test their foods, and somebody’s goat running around with a broken leash. This was quite the experience already.
Once there, I first partnered with Elijah to gather his secret ingredients. I took in the fragrant aroma of ripe peaches as Elijah, eager to get started, grabbed my hand and led me through the stalls.
“Grandma, look at these huge watermelons!” he exclaimed, pointing at a pyramid of massive green-striped fruits. “They’re bigger than my head!”
“That’s pretty big,” I teased, rubbing the crown of his head with my knuckles.
He jerked away. “Anyway!”
We joked and pointed at various spices and foods. Elijah was torn between jackfruit and fennel. “They both look so weird. Jackfruit is like a green porcupine, and fennel is like a deformed onion.”
“Have you tasted them?” I asked.
“No. You?”
“Nope. But I’m sure Gabriella can make something delicious out of one or the other.”
He settled on the fennel, which I hid in my basket underneath a sales flyer. Then it was his turn to shop with Gabriella.
“All right, buddy, time to switch partners,” Gabriella announced, tapping him on the shoulder. “You help me find something now.”
“Okay, Grandma, you’re on your own!” Elijah called over his shoulder as he scampered off with Gabriella, leaving me to navigate the remaining stalls solo.
