The Year I Almost Drowned

Chapter 15

I missed hearing the sound of my grandfather’s thunderous steps moving about the house early in the morning or late at night; his loud, husky voice that could be heard for miles and miles; his greasy, delicious diner food that brought me comfort on any given day; and his half-lip curled smile that warmed my heart.

Time passed, but nothing was done, nothing was accomplished. It’s like we were all frozen solid and unable to move, just allowing time to pass us by. The month of June was almost over.

Doing nothing depressed me even more. It gave me too much time to think about my grandfather, about the fact that I missed him so much, about the fact that he was gone, and about the fact that I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. I was going stir crazy. Every day was the same: get up, get dressed, and do nothing–there wasn’t a purpose. I felt like my spirit was slowly withering away. The overall feeling of the house was the same. Its life was gone. Nana just moved from one room to another. She was there but not there. We were shadows of our former selves. I knew things had to change; we could not continue to go on like this.

It had been several weeks, and the diner was still closed. On some of those days, I drove by it, just to see it, which was a stupid idea because all it did was remind me that my grandfather was gone. Seeing it empty inside and the “Closed” sign on the front door, made me feel that loss; it’s like it was a metaphor for how we were all feeling about everything.

I didn’t know what Nana was planning to do with it, but I had a sneaking suspicion she was going to sell it, and I definitely didn’t want her to–especially not to Mike Wyatt. That didn’t set right with me. It’s not what Grandpa would’ve wanted.

She sat in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee and eating a piece of dry toast. It was unusual for her to not make breakfast, but her desire to cook had waned since my grandfather passed away–no pies, no lavish breakfasts, nothing. Not only did the house feel empty; it smelled that way, too. The warm, pleasant fragrances had all but disappeared. It just didn’t have a smell anymore. It was sterile.

I grabbed a Pop Tart and plopped it in the toaster and poured myself a cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar. The Pop Tart popped up from the toaster. I placed it on a napkin and came over to the table, sitting directly across from her.

“Morning, Finn,” she said. Her elbows rested on the table, her hands held a mug.

“Nana. I’ve been thinking,” I started.

“That sounds dangerous,” she teased.

I smiled. Even though she was grieving, she hadn’t lost her witty sense of humor. “I’d like to discuss the diner with you,” I said seriously.

“Oh,” she answered quietly. “I don’t know what I can tell you about it.” Her lips turned down. “I know you’ve been trying to figure out your grandfather’s books and I appreciate it.”

“Yeah. I think I’ve got his system figured out,” I said and paused. “Are you planning to sell it?” I spit out quickly.

She didn’t look surprised by my question. It’s like she was expecting me to ask it. She leaned forward and nodded her head slightly. I frowned and she said, “I know it’s not what you want to hear. But I can’t keep it open. I don’t want to run it, Finn.”

“Why?”

“Frankly, I don’t have the energy or desire to run it.” She sighed and then continued, “I used to work at the diner with your grandfather. Then your dad got sick and well, that took a lot out of me. I had to focus on helping him get better; I just didn’t have the time for it anymore. After that, I found I didn’t miss it much.”

“But it’s a part of him.”

“I know this is hard for you, but I think it’s best,” she said.

How could it be best? It had been his for almost fifty years, and now she was planning to get rid of it? Like that. She had to change her mind; she just had to. A million thoughts were racing through my mind. I wanted to persuade her to keep the diner open a least a little while longer. I wasn’t ready for that kind of change.

“Let me try running it, at least until you find a suitable buyer. It’s a waste to let it sit there closed when you could be making money from it,” I said almost desperately. “Grandpa would agree.” That was a low thing to do. Using his name to serve my purpose was beneath me, but I was desperate to make her see my point. I had no idea what I was doing. Running a diner, what was I thinking? But it had been on my mind, and for some really strange reason, it made me feel at peace once I said it to her.

She shook her head. “I’m not sure about that, honey,” she said skeptically.

“I’m off the entire summer, Nana. And, I know the ins and outs of the place. I can get Dad to help cook. Let me at least do this until you sell it.” I placed my hands on her soft arms. “Please,” I begged.

“I don’t know how Pete will fair cooking at the diner. He hasn’t had a job in a long time,” she said. Several wrinkles creased across her small forehead. “And running it and working there are two different things, Finn. It’s not easy.” She twisted her lips to the side and gave a pensive expression.

“At least let me try. Give me that. Grandpa would hate for it to stay closed while you find a buyer,” my tone became more confident. The more I spoke, the more I believed what I was saying, even though the thought of running the diner was the craziest idea I’d ever come up with in my nineteen years of life. “If I can’t do it, we’ll keep it closed.”

She was silent for a while. I had no idea what she was thinking. “Okay,” she finally relented. “But the first sign of trouble, we’re locking the doors, shutting off the lights, and closing it until we sell it. Mike Wyatt has been flying around here like a buzzard, I’m pretty sure he’ll make me offer. Whether or not I accept it is a different matter.” She pursed her lips and then moved her arms out to the side and started flapping them up and down, making a “grrr” sound.

I laughed. “Thank you, Nana.” I hugged her.

“Don’t get too excited yet. You may not thank me once you see what you’re in for,” she said.

***

I drove to my dad’s house. He had worked at the diner when he was younger; I assumed it would be like second nature to him. But when I brought it up to him, he answered before I could even finish asking the question. In fact, he was adamantly opposed to the idea. It wasn’t the reaction I had expected; I naively thought he would be willing it to do it without a moment’s hesitation.

“It won’t be that long, Dad. Nana’s trying to find a buyer,” I said.

A huge canvas leaned against a tree. He stood in front of it, applying long, black brush strokes upward in a crescent formation, forming the shape of a tree bush. He moved his hand up and down and then in a circular motion. The more I talked, the more haywire his brush strokes became and the tree he was painting became more abstract.

“I haven’t cooked in that diner since you were a baby,” he said to me, still painting.

“Mike Wyatt made Nana an offer. If we keep it closed, she’ll sell it to him. If we keep it open, she’s more likely to be patient with who she sells it to,” I said.

He threw his paint brush down on the ground and scowled. “Mike Wyatt is a sleazy miscreant!” he shouted. I had to keep myself from laughing. Sometimes, my father would use these grandiose words to describe things or people, and it cracked me up. “I went to school with him, and he was a slimy, loathsome soul then.”

I added more fuel to the fire. “He’s made her an offer. She’s mulling it over right now.” I was being cunning, but I wanted this. It was important to me. I was on a mission to prove something, to whom, I don’t know. Maybe to my grandfather? I didn’t know, but trying to open the diner again made me forget that I was grieving.

“Come on, Dad. We can do it together, at least for the summer. I’m sure by then Nana will have a buyer.” I had no idea what I was talking about. I was making up stuff as I went along.

“Well, she’s not selling it to Mike. That would be over my dead body.” He shook his head in disgust.

“Please say you’ll do it.” I squeezed his arm.

“I’ll try, Finn. For you, I’ll try. I owe that to you,” he said. “Why’s this so important to you?” He formed an inquisitive expression.

It just was, I thought. Was that a suitable answer? “It just is,” I said. It was a part of Grandpa that I couldn’t let go

***

My phone and my alarm clock buzzed simultaneously, directly into my ears. I leapt out of bed, took my shower, grabbed a Pop Tart, (I really missed my Nana’s breakfasts) and headed out the door–all within a matter of fifteen minutes. It was a little before five-thirty in the morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet; the animals were still asleep. No one was up that early, no one except me. I drove toward my dad’s house. The long, winding roads were empty and completely bare of any light. The moon still glowed in the pitch black sky.

Nana had explicitly expressed her concern about my dad working at the diner. “It’s going to be hard for him,” she had said to me. “I don’t think you’re thinking things through.”

I knew it would be hard for him, but I think he needed the challenge as much as I did. He needed this like I needed it. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

He was waiting outside for me and holding his coffee thermos. A dull light shined directly on his red hair. I flashed my car’s headlights on him. He put his hand in front of his face and moved toward the car.

He opened the door and sat down. The thermos was in his lap. He smelled like chicory and cloves. “It’s too early for you to be shining those things on me,” he mumbled in a low, hoarse voice.

I had never seen him that early in the morning and quickly realized he was not a morning person. “Sorry,” I said and did a three-sixty turning the car completely around.

He sipped on his coffee and as I drove on his bumpy gravel road, some of his coffee spilled onto his lap. “Damn’t,” he muttered and wiped his pants.

Okay. So he really wasn’t a morning person; he was petulant.

“Sorry,” I said again. Was that going to be the extent of our conversation this morning? Me saying sorry?

I decided to keep quiet and just allow him to wake up. Hopefully, once he did, he’d be back to his normal self. Hopefully.

***

I turned on the lights. It was just how we left it. The smell of maple syrup and bacon still permeated the air. It still felt like my grandfather, like he was right there with us on our mad quest to try and step into his shoes. No one could ever fill them.

My dad stood around helplessly.

“Dad, you can get started in the kitchen. I’ll make the coffee.”

I stared at the empty pie cases. Nana hadn’t made one in over a week. I hoped that no one would want a slice on this day. Things couldn’t stay like that. It would kill business. Her pies were a major reason people ate at the diner.

I put coffee grounds into the filter, added water to the coffee pot and flipped the switch to “on.” It was dark inside the diner, even with the lights on. I opened the blinds, turned on the juke box, and then walked back to the kitchen. He was just standing there, looking around at everything and still doing nothing.

“Dad,” I startled him. “What are you doing? You need to prep the kitchen.” I was being terse, but I was annoyed by the fact that he hadn’t done anything since we’d gotten there.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been in this kitchen.” He touched the shiny stainless steel grill.

“We’ve got biscuits to make.” I grabbed the flour off of the shelf and put it on the work station. “Dad,” I said again, this time forcefully.

“Got it,” he said, suddenly waking up from his meditative state. He rummaged through the refrigerator and took out the eggs, milk and butter. I stared at him doubtfully, waiting to see what his next move was. “Finn, you can go on,” he said and started to mix the ingredients together in one large bowl. “I’m good now.”

I left the kitchen and unlocked the front door. Hannah pulled into the parking lot. Meg had gotten a full-time job at a beauty salon and didn’t work at the diner anymore. My grandfather had hired her replacement, an older woman named Thelma. But when he passed away, she said it was her excuse to retire early. That left just Hannah and me to serve, which wasn’t going to be enough people. I hadn’t been open a day, and already I was in trouble.

“Hey, Finn,” Hannah said, as she came into the diner. She had gotten there early, like I had asked her to. Hannah was dependable.

“Hi, Hannah,” I said, my breath short.

“You okay?”

“Just freaking out a little.”

She patted me on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right back.” She walked to the office.

Time passed, and the three of us were able to get the diner ready to open for business. I put the open sign on the door and waited for customers to start arriving. The first customer of the day came in, and I immediately sat him at a table. After I took his order, I called it out to my dad, “One Adam and Eve on a log.”

“English, Finn,” he said irritably.

“Two poached eggs on a sausage link,” I corrected myself.

He put the two eggs in a poacher and a sausage on the grill. He moved slower than my grandfather but was doing okay despite my previous misgivings.

As the sun began to rise, more and more customers started to pile in. Almost every table was taken. I was excited to see the place full. People wanted Lilly’s to be open as much as I did. But as more people trickled in and more orders were called, my dad started to panic in the kitchen. Tickets got backed up causing customers to wait longer than usual for their breakfast. And they weren’t happy about it, either. I was getting complaint after complaint after dreadful complaint.

I tried to remain calm. I couldn’t falter under pressure, no matter how much I wanted to. With a pile of tickets stacked high in the kitchen and angry scowls forming across the faces of the customers, I began to doubt why I had decided to run the diner without my grandfather there to help.

To make matters worse, Jesse unexpectedly came into the diner. He was dressed in black cargo pants and a navy blue City of Greenville Fire Station t-shirt. He looked like he had just gotten off of work or was on his way to work– I wasn’t sure and didn’t have time to think about it or to ask. He sat down on one of the bar stools.

“What can I get you?” I asked in a hurry.

“Coffee. But I can get if you want.”

“I’ll get it,” I said, as I turned around to pour the coffee into a cup, I saw flames burst in the kitchen and my dad shouting every single curse word imaginable. “What the...?” I dashed to the kitchen. I didn’t realize Jesse was right behind me until I got there and watched him calmly pour baking soda on the stove to put the fire out.

“I quit!” my dad shouted.

“You can’t quit,” I said.

“I’m not cut out for this, Finn. Sorry,” he said and threw his apron down on the counter and stormed out.

I didn’t move. I was in shock and too stunned to say anything. I had depended on him, and he had let me down. Again.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jesse grabbed the apron, put it on and said to me, “Call out the next order, Finn, I’ll get it.”

“No, Jesse. You don’t have to do this.” And he didn’t. We were through, weren’t we? He didn’t owe me anything.

“Just call it out.”

I pulled the ticket. “One flop two over a raft.”

He nodded and put the egg on the grill. I put the rest of the tickets up on the window, so he could see them.

“Have you got this?” I asked.

“Go find your dad.”

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Hannah.

“Hurry,” she said as I jetted out the door.

I ran outside searching for my dad. He wasn’t anywhere in sight. I knew he couldn’t have gone far. Downtown Graceville was essentially a square surrounded by brick store fronts with a park (really more of a field of Bermuda grass with a few old benches and a white gazebo) in the middle, and that’s it. I placed my hand up above my eyes, to block the sun’s rays from blinding me, and there he was, sitting on one of the park benches, sulking. I marched over to that bench, my feet stomping on the ground.

I glowered at him. “Dad!” I shouted. “What are you doing?” I stood in front of him. I clenched my teeth. My arms were tightly folded against my chest.

He shook his head and quietly sighed. “Finn, I’m sorry, I just can’t do it. It’s not who I am anymore.” He peered down at the ground. A tiny part of me felt remorse for being so abrasive with him. The other part of me was seething with anger. “Mom is picking me up. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Worry about you?” I scoffed. “Dad, there’s a bunch of people in there hoping to get fed and if they don’t, they won’t come back.”

He looked back up at me helplessly. “I haven’t done this in a long time. It was just too much, Finn,” he said with a distraught expression.

“You didn’t even try. You just gave up–like that.” I snapped my fingers. “How long are you going to live your life this way? I know you were sick, Dad. But you’re managing now. You can’t keep using it as an excuse. There are lots of people who have bipolar disorder and have full-time jobs, and they’re doing fine.” I had done my research the moment I discovered he was alive and learned he had bipolar disorder. He put his head down again and didn’t look at me. He was ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he responded.

“So this is the way it’s going to be? You’re going to walk through your life allowing everyone else to take care of you. Well, I can’t, Dad. What are you going to do when Nana dies?”

“Finn,” he said quietly, desperately.

“It’s true. When she dies, you’ll be on your own because I won’t take care of you like she has. I need you to be my dad. I’ve tried to form a father-daughter relationship with you. It’s what I needed, what I wanted. But it’s been me taking care of you, like I’m your parent. I won’t do that anymore.” I paused for a moment. “Grandpa was more of a father to me than you are. I wish he were still alive,” I spit out. Instantly, I felt a pang of guilt, but I was so angry and so hurt. He was leaving me again, like it was no big deal, like I didn’t matter, just like before.

He gave a pained expression and stayed silent. How could he respond to that? There was an underlying meaning–I wished Grandpa was alive instead of him. He knew what I was saying without saying it. I felt terrible for having that feeling, but I needed a father and Grandpa was all that I had ever had.

“You let me down, Dad,” I said, trying to hold back the tears, to not taste the bitter disappointment. “I have to go. I have work to do. You can sit here all day for all I care.” I stormed off back toward the diner.

I wiped my eyes before I opened the door. I needed to get myself together for the rest of the day. I tried to find some normalcy, some equal footing, after that chaotic episode. I called out the rest of the orders to Jesse, to help him get caught up. Plate by plate was delivered to each and every customer. Not one customer was without food. And that was how things went from breakfast to lunch. Jesse stayed in the kitchen taking each ticket, cooking each meal, and making sure every customer was fully satisfied.

It was finally closing time. I had never been so happy to put that closed sign on the door. Hannah refilled ketchup bottles; I counted out the cash register; Jesse was cleaning up in the kitchen; a soft, old melody played on the juke box. The last of the customers had trailed out of the diner, leaving just the three of us to finish things up for the day.

Hannah finished with the ketchup bottles and started to mop the dirty, scuffed floor. After I placed the cash and credit card receipts in the safe, I went into the kitchen to talk to Jesse. My heart beat frantically. I don’t know why I was so nervous, but I was.

“Thank you,” I said to him.

He stopped scouring the grill and smiled at me. I think my heart dropped to my stomach when he did. His smile always made me feel that way, but on a day like this, it was a double whammy. “You’re welcome. I’m off tomorrow. I could come in again,” he said.

“No. You’ve done enough.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. It was fun today,” he said. “Like old times.”

Like “old times” with my grandfather, or “old times” with me, I wondered? Yearning for the past is an unhealthy way to live, but I really wanted to rekindle that part of my life–for plenty of reasons.

“I’m hoping I can get my dad to come around.” I had no idea when that would be: months, years, decades.

“I don’t mind, Finn,” he said and began to scrub the grill again. I could see the definition in his muscles as he moved his arms back and forth. Being a firefighter had made him ripped.

“Okay,” I agreed. If he wanted to come in, then I would let him. “But you get paid for this,” I added.

He quit scrubbing and said while looking into my eyes, “Whatever you want, Finn.”

“That’s what I want,” I said and so much more, but I didn’t say that. I blew my bangs out of my face, a few strands still fell in front of my eyes.

He pushed the loose strands behind my ear. Right there and then it felt like we were a couple, like the break up never happened. It was the way he looked at me, the shortness in both of our breaths, the sheer magnitude–all of it. But then, his expression changed, like he realized what he was doing and the moment disappeared within a blink of an eye. I almost wondered if I had imagined it.

“Agreed.” He smiled and started to scrub again.

I left him to finish cleaning and went to the front to close the blinds and help Hannah finish up. A police car pulled up, and Everett stepped out. “Hannah. Everett’s here.”

He knocked on the door. I opened it and he came inside. “Hey, Finn.” I had only seen him once since I had been back in Graceville and that was at the funeral. He was the police officer that escorted us to the cemetery.

“Hi, Everett. Can I get you something?”

“Coffee would be good. I’ve got a long shift tonight,” he said.

“Hey cuz.” Hannah swatted him with her wet wash cloth.

He brushed his shoulder and said, “Not the uniform.”

“Such a baby,” she teased.

He sat down at the counter. I poured the hot liquid into a large Styrofoam cup and put a lid on it. “Here you go,” I said. He fumbled through his pocket searching for some change. “It’s on the house.”

“At least let me give you a tip,” he said, handing me several one dollar bills.

“That’s too much.” I handed some of them back to him.

His hand touched mine. “Just keep the bills, Finn.”

“I’ll take them if she won’t,” Hannah interrupted.

We both laughed and then got quiet. “So, are you holding up okay?” he asked me.

“Yeah.” I breathed. “I’m good. Thanks for asking.”

“Is the diner doing something for the Movie in the Park night?” he asked.

“What ‘Movie in the Park’?” I asked.

“They’re showing one of those old 80’s summer flicks. People sprawl out on the lawn, watch a movie, drink, eat, hang out. It’ll be fun. I’m on duty for it.”

“When is it?”

“In a couple of weeks.” He sipped his coffee. “Black.” He smiled. “You remembered.”

“I remembered your bad taste,” I teased.

“Oh come on. My taste isn’t so bad. I can recognize beauty when I see it.”

Okay, he was definitely flirting with me. Sidney would probably say he was coming on to me. My radar for this type of things was usually poor, but not this time.

My face turned a slight shade of red. “I need to get my Nana to make some of her pies. There’s no way we can lose out on a chance to make all that extra money,” I said more to myself, but it was loud enough for him to hear.

He laughed. “You’re quite the entrepreneur, aren’t you?”

“Huh, no. Just trying to think of ways to make a profit.”

“Like I said... entrepreneur,” he said and smiled. “Thanks for the coffee.” He laid down two one dollar bills. “Here’s the rest of the tip money you wouldn’t take from me.” He got up and walked toward the door. “Bye, Hannah.”

“See ya later, Ev,” she said.

“I guess I’ll see you at the movies,” I said to him.

“It’s a date.” He smiled and walked out the door.

I placed the rest of the tip money in my pocket and turned around, bumping into Jesse. “Sorry,” I said.

“Everything is done in the kitchen. I’m gonna go,” he said.

“Thank you, Jesse. I would’ve drowned today if it weren’t for you,” I said.

His brows were furrowed. His lips were semi-pursed. “I’ll be here tomorrow,” he said with a tinge of agitation. “Bye, Hannah.” He shoved the door open and left.

“He seemed upset,” I said.

“Probably because he witnessed the whole swoon fest between you and Ev.”

“Swoon fest?” I repeated.

She rolled her eyes. “The flirting, Finn. It was obvious to Jesse and me that you guys were flirting.”

“I wasn’t flirting,” I said defensively.

“Um, yeah, you were,” she said tersely. “Next time, do it when he’s not around. The guy worked a twenty-four hour shift and just worked another eight hours for you. And how do you thank him? You flirt with my cousin.”

I had no idea that Jesse had worked such a long shift and then topped another eight hours onto his day. But I didn’t ask him. I just let him work without question. I selfishly allowed him to save me because I was too afraid of failure. I folded my arms against my chest and said in a defensive tone, “I don’t think Jesse cares who I flirt with.”

“For someone with your smarts, you sure are a dummy sometimes.” She huffed.

I frowned. “Ouch,” I replied. “That hurt.”

“Wake up, Finn.” She grabbed her purse and stalked out the door. We had never had words like that; Hannah was rarely angry. But this had made her mad, in fact, she was fuming.

I didn’t understand why she was reacting the way that she was. Jesse and I had broken up. He let me go, not the other way around. He said it was because I had doubts, but what that meant to me was “we’re through.” And now, here he was, sending me mixed signals. Was it to honor my grandfather? Because I was sure it had nothing to do with me.

***

Nana sat on the front porch, her red Keds touching the top step. She was waiting for me and didn’t look happy. More unhappy people, more people mad at me. I slowly approached the steps, standing on the grass. Go ahead and yell at me, I thought.

“Finn,” she said. “We need to talk.”

This was not going to be good. “Okay,” I said, standing a few feet away from her.

“I had to take your father home today. He was a wreck. It was too much for him. I knew this wasn’t going to work.”

What she said really angered me. When did she become so pessimistic and why was she the only one allowed to grieve? That’s what we were all doing, weren’t we, just in different ways? She stopped baking. I was trying to run the diner without an idea of what I was doing. Dad had become even more of a recluse. We were all missing my grandfather, all of us.

“I’m going to sell it to Mike Wyatt. He’s made a decent offer,” she said.

Whoa. That threw me for a loop. I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

“Nana, you can’t sell the diner to him! What are you thinking?” I shouted.

“Excuse me, young lady, but this is my decision.”

“Well, you’re wrong, completely wrong, and Grandpa is turning over in his grave right now!” I yelled.

A look of pain shot across her face. “That’s not fair, Finn.”

“It’s the truth and you know it. You gave me one day and just gave up on me. When did you stop believing in me? I know you’re hurting, but Nana, I am, too.” Tears were starting to fill in my eyes.

“I’m doing the best I can,” she recoiled. “I miss him so much.”

I sat down next to her. “I know you do, Nana. I do, too. Each and every second of each and every single day. He was too young to die.”

“He was, Finn. But his heart was just too weak. I knew it. He knew it.”

“It’s not fair. I wanted more time with him.”

“I hate to use the cliché that life isn’t fair, but it isn’t honey.” She wiped a tear from her eye and continued, “You can’t have life without loss. You can’t have love without sorrow. You have to take the bad with the good, otherwise the good won’t feel as special.” She wrapped her arm around me and brought me closer to her.

“But why?” I asked, even though I knew she didn’t have all of life’s answers.

“I don’t know, honey. I wish I did. All I know is that he loved you and he knew you loved him. That can’t be taken away. You’ll always have that love to cherish.”

“He wouldn’t want you to sell it to Mike Wyatt, and you know it,” I said quietly. I wiped the tears away from my eyes with my arm. It smelled like bacon grease and for some reason, that brought me comfort on this horrible day.

She scratched her head and puckered her lips. A few tears trickled down her face. “You’re right,” she finally said and then took a deep, long breath.

I didn’t respond. I let her dictate where the conversation went next.

“He couldn’t stand Mike, neither can I for that matter.” She twisted her lips into a frown. “He wears too much cologne and always chews gum like a horse.”

I tried to stifle my laugh.

“I guess we can hold out a little while longer and see if we get a better offer.” She patted my hand, her hand was warm and soft. Being close to her, touching her, always brought me comfort. “Did you end up doing the cooking once your dad left?” she asked.

“No. Jesse did.”

“Sweet boy.” She smiled to herself. “That was awfully nice of him.”

“Yeah,” I answered, and she looked at me. “What?” I said to her.

“Nothing. It was nice of him to help out. That’s all.” But there was more to it, and I wasn’t about to have that conversation with her. I knew she was dying to ask but wouldn’t. She hadn’t trespassed into that forbidden discussion. “So, what are we going to do about your dad?” she asked, killing the silence.

“I don’t know. He can’t keep hiding, Nana. That’s what he’s been doing and we’ve allowed it, all of us–you, me, Grandpa. We just let him pass through life.”

“Well... we can’t make him come around. I know he felt bad about what happened today,” she said with a frowned expression. “Give it time, honey. We’ll get it figured out.”