“No way.” She waves off my offer and jumps to her feet. “I need you here on Monday because I have a hot date.”
This is the kind of news that I can distract her with so that we can finally change topics. “Do tell.”
“Who am I kidding?” Amie presses the back of her hand to her forehead and dislodges the sweaty curls sticking there. She looks exactly like a character in a Tennessee Williams’ play. Like I said, she’s got the dramatic flair down. “It’s with the chiropractor.”
“I thought that ship sailed. Forcibly if I recall.”
She sighs and draws her shoulders up like she doesn’t understand either. “So did I. Either I’m not as forcible as I like to think or the boring doctor has bigger balls than I thought.”
We both immediately check to make certain Max isn’t watching us, but he’s still glued to an alphabet game.
“Maybe I should say no and force you to work on Monday,” I tease.
“I swear I’m not lowering my expectations. I’m just worried that when a good man finally comes along I’ll be too rusty.” She sticks her arms out straight in front of her and croaks: “Oil can. Oil can.”
My eyes widen and I shrink back into my chair.
“What? I was being the Tin Man!”
I sit back up with a grin. “I know. I was just trying to decide if I should record that for your future dating site profiles.”
“Now you’re definitely working on Monday.” Amie pauses in the doorway. “Just think how many eligible suitors I’ll have when I have my own cooking show.”
“Or how many creeps,” I correct her.
She wags a finger at me. “Do you mind? Cinderella wore glass slippers and they didn’t break. I need some fairy tale-level optimism here.”
I promise her that I still believe in true love because it’s a nice thing to say, and because part of me does. I love her and my son. I’m truly fond of a couple of our regulars. But romance and happily ever afters? That’s why they’re called stories.
There are a million reasons that I moved my grandmother to a nursing facility in a town nearly an hour away, but most of them are lies. The fact is that I want an excuse not to spend every Sunday feeling like a ghost. I check the mirror every few minutes and find Max staring out the window taking in the Douglas firs that rise as majestically as the Olympic Mountains in the distance. The weather forecaster missed the mark because the sky is bright and the air crisp. One of the few days we’ll have like it until summer roars defiantly into the Northwest. By the time we reach Nana, Max squirms with energy as I release him from the captivity of his car seat.
I have to remind him twice to hold my hand in the parking lot as we climb the steps to the front door. Miss Maggie, who’s been here since the day Grace and I dropped Nana off, smiles widely when she spots us. Today she’s wearing a shockingly pink pair of scrubs and lipstick to match that pops against her mocha skin.
“Hello sweetness!” she cries out and Max runs to give her a hug. I can’t help inflating a bit at the joyful greeting or Max’s response. “She’s going to be so happy to see you.”
“It’s a good day then?” I try to contain my hope.
She raises an eyebrow over her turquoise reading glasses. “It’s always a good day when you’re breathing, sugar.”
And that’s why I try not to get my hopes up. I don’t have an eternal font of positivity to draw from. I want to see the world in rainbow hues but I’ve learned to only expect grays. Max, on the other hand, gets a hero’s welcome. It’s why he loves to come here. The whole community works with a local preschool to keep up the residents’ spirits. They’re used to having kids around and they enjoy Max as much as he enjoys them. He doles out high fives and hugs like he’s an official sponsor of each.
“They just eat him up,” Maggie says with a giggle. “That child is a light.”
I bite my lip and watch how each person reacts to him. By the time he comes to a worn old chair in the corner, he’s left every one in the place glowing. But he turns to face us, his own smile falling from his face. He signs to me.
“I don’t know where Frankie is,” I respond, waiting for Maggie to fill me in.
“Frankie’s out for the day.” But there’s a significance to her tone that’s meant for me.
It’s happened before, but now Max is getting old enough to remember. That’s the inevitability of life. He can come in here for a few hours once a month and breathe vitality into every soul he touches but he can’t stop them from dying. For now, he’s appeased by her response, but I’m going to have to talk to him about it later. Next month he’ll ask again and I promised myself I’d never tell him unnecessary lies.