When we were seated inside the car, I checked the clock. Not quite noon. “There’s a bistro I like in the historic part of New Bern. Want to give it a try?”
“Certainly.”
I ordered chicken salad on a croissant. He ordered split pea soup. Maybe he should’ve stuck to Being food, because green lumpy soup was disgusting.
“Okay,” I said when my meal was done and I only had a glass of sweet tea left to finish. “How are we doing so far?”
“Could you narrow the scope of your question?”
So annoyingly precise, but I would suck it up. I preferred the friend-like Grant over the subservient genie. “How much longer will it take to finish packing my brother’s things?” I was anxious to get that project behind me.
“A week should be sufficient.”
“You could have it done in the snap of a finger. That’s a lot shorter than a week.”
“It wouldn’t be done as well.”
“You do everything perfectly.”
“Perhaps perfect is not what you want.”
An image of the woman on the lawn chair bloomed in my brain. She had watched us leave, studying the items we carried, before meeting my eyes. Had this been hard for her? Her expression had been blank. Was that because the relative was distant and she didn’t really care? Or because they’d been so close that she had shut down in order to cope?
I shook my head, as if to erase that picture from my mind. Whatever the reason, it was good that Grant had been there—for her and for me.
“Sara, I found Sean’s collection of books most intriguing. Would you tell me what he was like in high school?”
I blinked, surprised by the question but eager to answer. “My brother was really smart. He never made bad grades, unless he wanted to.”
“Did he ever want to?”
“Yeah, sometimes. If he didn’t like the teacher or if he thought the assignment was stupid, he would calculate just how badly he could do on it and still keep an A in the class. Then he’d do his version of badly. But he wasn’t just book smart. He wasinterestingsmart. He could take facts and turn them into stories. He talked about becoming a teacher.” I swallowed hard. “He would’ve been great.”
“What was he like socially?”
“He was nice to everyone, although most of his friends were girls.” I assumed it was because he hadn’t liked team sports—and there weren’t too many guys in our grade who could overlook that. “He had a steady girlfriend for a couple of years. Their relationship revolved around studying, TV shows, and arguing over stuff they saw on social media. It hurt him when their relationship ended.”
“Do you know why?”
“No, we didn’t talk about the people we were dating. Well, I didn’t ask about Tonda.” I wished I had now. His decision to break up with her would have to remain a mystery. “He, however, discussed my boyfriend. All. The. Time. My brother couldn’t stand him.”
“With good reason?”
I tried not to wince. “Yeah. Gryphon could be a champion jerk. He said things that weren’t particularly nice, and he monitored my diet and appearance too closely. My brother begged me to expect better.”
“It sounds as if Sean was right.”
“I didn’t wantbetter.” Pathetic but true. I’d had enough complications in my close relationships that a real boyfriend would’ve taken too much energy. Simple was what I needed, and simple was what I found. “I ignored what Gryphon said.” Mostly.
“Then why did you date him?”
“This is going to sound so bad...but he’s gorgeous. He’s a swimmer and takes great care of his body. He wears this wonderful cologne. And as long as he wasn’t pouting over anything, he could be fun and affectionate. That’s all I wanted. Shallow. I couldn’t have handled anything real, and I can’t fault Gryphon for giving me exactly what I expected.”
We paused as our waitress and I did the payment ballet. Soon afterwards, Grant and I left, walking in silence to my car. He helped me into the passenger’s seat, but didn’t close the door immediately.
“Sara, it’s my opinion ...” He hesitated.
“Go on.”
