Page 22 of Lovestrung

Me: 1) NEVER tell a woman what she should or shouldn’t eat. 2) How dare you be so rude? 3) Goodbye.

I placed my phone on the table facedown, angered to the point of diabolical. With jerky movements, I forked a piece of crepes, pushed it in my mouth and chewed furiously. I was so furious, I couldn’t even appreciate how delicious they were.

“Eat up,” Gramps grumbled next to me. “You need more meat on your bones.”

I nearly choked on another strawberry.

“Are you and Ethan going to order me to eat all the time now?” I spluttered. “That is not cool, Gramps. Not cool at all.”

As if my outburst didn’t ruffle his feathers at all – and I was sure it didn’t – he folded the newspaper and calmly took a sip of his coffee before he turned his head to look at me.

“You’ve been looking tired and haggard for a while now, Penelope,” he started, making my anger dwindle to dust at once. “If you’re going travelling, you need all the energy you can get. So, please keep our concern in mind for the next month, please.”

With that, he moved to get down from his chair but I sprang from my seat, resentment and hurt momentarily forgotten, while I helped him settle in his wheelchair.

He groaned as he sat back, and I peered down at him.

“You all right, Gramps?” I asked as I took in his pallor.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “I need to call Arnold. I’ll be in the library.”

I opened my mouth, but my words were snuffed out when my phone started to ring. I went to pick it up, and when I saw Ethan’s number flashing at me, I sighed and swiped the screen.

“Look,” I started, “Gramps has already given me grief about not eating properly, so please don’t start as well.”

“For the record,” he laughed, “I don’t make it a tendency to tell women what they can or can’t eat. That’s not what this is about. Frederik told me last night that you’ve been trying to lose weight for a while – something that is not necessary, by the way – and he expressed his concern.”

“But I…”

“Not done.”

I blinked in shock at the low command.

“Second, implying that I know nothing about women is very rude as well, but since I insulted you first, I’ll forgive you for that one.”

“Excuse me?” I snapped.

“Still not done, Penelope,” he grumbled. “Last point – telling me goodbye via text messaging? Really? How very mature of you.”

My breaths came out in puffs and I was so angry, red spots disrupted my line of sight.

“If you were here right now,” I seethed, my voice deadly calm, “I would kick your balls so hard, your very manly voice would turn into falsetto for the next decade.”

I didn’t wait for his reply but hung up. Closing my eyes, I rubbed my temples and counted to thirty. Once I felt calmer, I went to the library.

“I’m heading out. Back in a couple of hours.”

I didn’t wait for Gramps to answer me back, but turned around on my heels, grabbed my jacket and keys, and left the house.

It was only eleven a.m., but I was in need of a cocktail and girl talk.

5

Goodbyes Suck

Ella and I had met at college when we shared a dorm, and I’d liked her immediately. Her no-fucks-given attitude and honesty had been refreshing and living with her had turned those years into some of the best of my life. We’d ended up the best of friends, and when we realized we both had family in Charlottesville, life became even sweeter. We took turns visiting and getting to know each other’s families during breaks, and my parents adored her. Once Ella had moved here permanently after she’d gotten her degree in journalism, we met up at least once a week, sometimes more often. The funny thing about her was that she changed hair color and style so often, I never quite knew what to expect when we met up. Lately, though, her wild days dyeing her hair all the colors of the rainbow seemed to have given way to a more classic and discreet style, and it made me wonder if she had decided to grow up at last. These days, she was sporting a cute, layered bob that made her naturally raven colored hair – a gift from the Asian part of her ancestry – shine in the sun.

I had just finished my angry tirade to her at our favorite place to meet up – a cute, relaxed café and bakery on Rose Hill Drive – while binge eating their delicious buttermilk pancakes with strawberries and drinking my second hot cocoa. Wisely, she’d veered off my initial idea of going to a bar to get plastered – which, I admitted, hadn’t been my best idea to begin with – and I was exhausted.