AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Love makes us stupid in the best and worst ways.
Chapter Forty
River
All night, I toss and turn. Grandma is right. This isn’t where I fit. Not anymore. My bed is too small, too soft, too confining. But it isn’t just the bed.
When the sun streaks through my windows, I rise. I run at the park. I shower. I fix breakfast and tea, and I lock myself in my room with a stack of graphic novels.
All my old favorites.WatchmenandI Kill Giantsand even my oldArchiecomics. The classics of the genre and the adaptations that inspired my current gig. The mix of Grandma’s influence and mine. She’s a fixture in my life. And, as much as I hate it, she knows what I need, most of the time.
She’s right again.
She always is.
My sisters knock on my door, but I stay inside. Grandma, too. They give me space. Wait until I emerge.
It’s late afternoon, but the sun is still high in the blue sky. The house is still warm and bright. It feels like home, in a way it didn’t when I was younger. But just like when I was younger, I have that same sense that I don’t belong here.
Even though I want to be here, with Grandma.
That doesn’t mean I’m leaving tomorrow. But it means I’m accepting her wishes, too. Accepting her wisdom.
With caveats.
Major caveats.
I step into the kitchen.
Fern and North look up from their spot at the kitchen table. They’re playing Five Hundred Rummy and, as usual, North is losing. Fern is a shark.
Grandma is at the counter, fixing a pot of tea.
Everyone is shocked I’m here.
“River, sweetheart, have a seat.” Grandma motions to the small table. “Help North win a few rounds.”
“Hey!” North pouts, but she still stands and pulls me into a hug. “You look like shit.”
“Worse, actually,” Fern says. “How was Palm Springs?”
“It was obviously bad,” North says. “Look at him.”
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Grandma asks.
“Deanna ended things,” I say.
The room falls silent. Everyone guessed that, maybe, but guessing is different from knowing.
I sit. I let Grandma fix me a cup of tea. I let my sisters offer generic condolences for a few minutes. Then a few more. Long enough to drink the entire mug of milky English Breakfast and request another.
Then I launch my counterattack. “We have a deal, Grandma.”
She sits across from me and folds her hands in her lap. In her silk blouse and wide-leg pants, she looks like an executive in a Nancy Meyers movie. “Did you try your best?”
“I think so, but you can send her a questionnaire if you’d like proof.” I take another sip as I consider my argument. “You’re not supposed to argue if I stay.”
She nodsthat is the deal.
