Page 35 of When Lemons Give You Life

He sniffs. “No, love, it’s glorious. I . . .” He gasps between sobs. “I . . . I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed your cooking. How much I’ve missed you!” He places her fingers on the corner of his mouth. “Can you feel how much I’m smiling, darl?”

Her fingertips read his lips then wipe away his tears.

I get a bit of dust in my eye and rub it away.

“This was my favorite thing you ever made, Gladdy.”

“I know,” she says, patting the remaining tuft of hair on his head. “Well, that and pork crackling. We both loved that, didn’t we? Never get it in here.” She sighs, reaching for my hand. “Griff? Thank you. This has meant the world to us. Tina, cut Griff a big slice, won’t you, hon?”

“What about us?!” the twins scream.

“Guests first, girls,” their mother maintains, passing me a piece.

I take a small bite. Bloody oath, it’s good. What’s more, it’s something I’ve never tasted before, and the joy of it snatches my breath.

“Well?”

“It’s gorgeous, Gladys.”

“What’s going on in here?”

My shoulders slump as I clock Allison at the door.

“Oh, happy birthday, Glenda! Lovely party.” Her screechy voice makes me envious of Herb; I wish I had hearing aids I could turn off. I try to slink away, but she spots me. “Oh dear, seems we have an uninvited guest. I’m sorry, has he been bothering you?”

“Not at all, in fact, he—”

Allison doesn’t wait to listen but loops her arm through mine and marches me back to my room. “God, I hope I don’t look like her when I’m that age,” she says, pulling at her crow’s feet.

I tread on Allison’s toe. Gladys’s beauty will never fade because it comes from the inside.

“Ow! Be careful. You’re not supposed to be wandering into other residents’ rooms.” The woman speaks to me as one would a naughty child. She has the audacity to take my piece of cake too.

Not cool, Allison. Not cool.

But there’s no point in arguing. Soon I won’t have to see her or anyone else, ever again.

She scowls once more before disappearing down the hall. She’s just another motivation to leave. My life has been empty for so long, with reasons to live trickling out of it daily.

Yet suddenly it’s being filled again, with Gladys and Serbian apple cake and Rob and tastebuds that have come out of hibernation. I place a hand on the urn but don’t take a sleeping tablet; there’s enough strength in me for one more thing.

I haven’t felt this alive since the day I got the three hats—when triumph and terror arrived within the same breath.

21

Griff (age 62)

November 2022

Three hats.

We bloody did it. Despite everything life has thrown at me.

A champagne cork rockets past my ear, missing me by inches and exploding against the stainless-steel wall. “We Are the Champions” blares through the sound system like we’re the triumphant underdogs of a football final. Someone is crying—probably Lou the pastry chef. The sommelier’s twirling a tea towel like it’s a victory flag. Chaos. Bloody unfiltered chaos. It’s slightly beautiful but bittersweet.

I’d imagined this moment so many times, but Beau was always at my side. He was meant to be here.

Will this be enough to plaster over the cracks? To pull me from my grief? To outcook my past? To silence the gnawing voice that’s been with me since I was eight? But if this is what absolution feels like, it’s flat and fleeting.