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“Perfect.”
“I should have that to you within the next thirty minutes.”
“Thank you. You’re the best.”
I hang up and collapse into one of the kitchen chairs. I begin to massage my foot, trying to ease the ache that’s been a constant presence for the past week.
If only I could find a man willing to do this. But that’s as likely to happen as me becoming an astronaut. Or a farmer. As a single mom working a demanding job, I don’t have time left to date.
“Who was that?” Grandpa Bob asks as he walks into the room. He is my dad’s father. He’s in his eighties but still as strong as an ox. Recently, though, he’s had some health scares that worry me a little.
Grandpa Bob comes over to our apartment when I have to stay late at the office. Mina thinks she’s more than capable of staying home alone, but it makes me nervous to leave her by herself for so long. So, he always comes and watches over her and the apartment on days when I have to work late, which seems to occur more and more frequently. I won’t tell either of them this, but they’re actually looking after each other.
“Camdyn, the pizza guy,” I say.
“Oh. I hope you told him not to put those weird fruit peppers on mine.”
“Yep, sure did, I told him only to put them on my half.”
“Good, good.” After that, he hunkers down on his chair, a ratty armchair he insists I keep for when he comes to visit, and turns on the news.
“Why do you watch that stuff? It’s so depressing,” I ask. I hear enough terrible news at the office. I don’t need any more in my life.
He just looks at me. “Sweetheart, when you’ve lived as long as I have and seen news coverage of such remarkable moments as the first moon landing, Martin Luther King Jr. being assassinated, the rescue of baby Jessica, and O.J. Simpson’s famous police chase, nothing can surprise or depress you anymore.”
“I suppose…” Grandpa Bob always likes to bring up the past. Sometimes, he loves the past. Sometimes, he hates it. It’s always best to just let it happen. Trying to interrupt him mid-rant only results in a longer lecture.
I sit and watch with him, but I’m not as desensitized to the news as he claims to be, and after the second mass shooting, I have to walk away. I deal with enough crime at work. I don’t need to hear even more about it in my private time.
Instead, I sit at the dining table and half-heartedly crack open the latest crime mystery novel that my coworker, Sarah, insists I absolutely have to read. On the cover is a gorgeous man with an unconscious woman clutched in his arms.
Behind them, a furious wave crashes against a dark, dangerous cliff. I only make it through the first chapter before I have to slam it shut, my heart pounding. There’s no way some of the things in there are humanly possible. Where does Sarah even find this stuff?
Thankfully, a knock at the door saves me from my wandering mind.
My man Camdyn stands in the entryway, two delicious-smelling pizzas in hand.
“What do I owe you?” I ask him.
“Thirty-five dollars.”
“Ugh,” Grandpa Bob groans from the next room. “In my day, a good pie only cost you five.”
“Yeah, well. That was a hundred years ago,” I shout back at him. Then, I give Camdyn the money plus a hefty tip.
“Thank you, Miss Dale.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll probably see you in a few days.” I know that ordering this much pizza isn’t the healthiest option for any of us, but I also know myself. And I know that work will likely only get busier and busier.
“You usually do,” Camdyn says. We’re both chuckling as he speeds off in his retro car.
“Mina! Pizza’s here!” I call out, dumping the pizza on the kitchen table and grabbing some plates from the cabinet.
“I have to call you back, Madison,” Mina says as she sits down, hangs up, and puts away her phone. “Thank goodness. I was starving.”
“Starving? Back in my day, that meant you went at least twenty-four hours without food. Try being deployed in the desert and having only the sand or your fellow soldiers to eat.” Sometimes, I wonder how much of Grandpa Bob’s stories are true and how much is fiction. “Heck, I just saw you scarf down at least three of those beef jerky sticks.”
“So much for being a vegetarian,” I joke.
