I want Aaron so much that it scares me. I feel like it might take over, like I might drown in my wanting. Like I’ll be nothing but want. Like I won’t be able to think about anything or do anything but just want him.
Nobody ever told me it was like this. And even if they had, I wouldn’t have believed them. I thought I wanted Aaron before, but now that I’ve kissed him, now that I’ve felt him against me … now that I know he might want me back…
I don’t know if my heart is gonna be able to take it. Between being broken over Marcus and pumping so fast to keep up with me when I’m running and now all this wanting.
It isn’t fair to my poor heart.
CHAPTER 47
It’s the Tuesday night after we got back from Hilton Head and something is bothering LaoLao. I can’t tell what it is. She’s so sharp I’m surprised she isn’t cutting herself straight open. And she’s been glaring at Granny Dee all through dinner. She’s so focused on drilling holes into Granny Dee with her eyes that she hasn’t looked down at her own plate once and is spilling food all over the table and down her front.
It takes Granny Dee a little while to notice. At first she ignores it. Then she tries to glare back at LaoLao, and Granny Dee’s glares are nothing to trifle with, but she can’t compete with LaoLao.
Finally, she puts down her fork. Keeps hold of her knife, though. Uses it to point at LaoLao across the table.
“Is there somethin’ on my face?”
My mom looks up. If she’s noticed the Olympic-level glaring going on, she’s been ignoring it, which is a feat in itself. “No. There’s nothing on your face,” she says.
“Then could you please ask your mother why she is staring at me like that?” says Granny Dee primly.
This is all the encouragement LaoLao needs. She takes such a deep breath that I think I can see her lungs expanding, like she’s an opera singer. I’m glad I’m not about to be on the receiving end of whatever she’s about to unload on Granny Dee.
“You not doing anything for our family!” LaoLao puffs up like a rooster and she shakes her head at Granny Dee. “How come I the one who has to go work? Why not you? You could get work too!”
Granny Dee raises her hand to her chest and gasps, and I think I can hear the air rattling all the way down into her lungs.
“How dare you!” Her voice is shaky. “I might lose my house!”
“This not just your house. This my house too.” LaoLao’s tone is petulant. “I work, work, work all day. Work to save Marcus. Work to save house. What do you do?”
I remember rubbing LaoLao’s feet in the living room when she said that work is nothing because it’s for family. I know she meant it. I know she’s tired today. She’s had a long day. The head chef shouted at her and the line cooks make her feel stupid. She wants to sit at home and watch her soap operas. She’s bitter that Granny Dee isn’t working too.
Granny Dee turns to my mom. “You know I can’t get work, Winnie. My vision … it isn’t what it used to be … and my hearing…”
“I know, I know,” my mom says soothingly, rubbing Granny Dee’s back.
“Your hands! Your hands work. You could do something!” LaoLao snaps back. “My eyes no good! My ears no good! But I use my hands. All day.”
The kitchen lights flicker, once, twice, and then the kitchen goes dark.
“Oh crap,” my mom mutters. “They really did turn it off. Wing, can you get a flashlight from the drawer under the phone?”
“And now we so poor we can’t even keep lights on!” LaoLao roars. Apparently even getting our electricity cut is not going to stop her.
“Mama.” My own mom’s voice is sharp. “Give it a rest, please, just while we get some light.”
“Give what a rest? Give me a rest? I need a rest!”
“Ow!” I stub my toe trying to get to the drawer under the phone. There are two flashlights there. I turn on one and put it on my LaoLao like a spotlight. It’s all the encouragement she needs.
“You do nothing,” LaoLao hisses at Granny Dee.
“That’s not true,” I say, putting the flashlight in the middle of the table like a lantern. Granny Dee shakes her head at me even as her eyes fill with tears. She doesn’t want them to know, but they need to.
“Granny Dee visits Marcus every day,” I say, my voice rising with each word. “Every. Single. Day. That isn’t nothing. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t go and just … sit there. Watch him just … lying there. It doesn’t even feel like it’s him! It doesn’t make me feel better. It makes me feel worse! I hate it. I hate visiting him. Because it isn’t him. Not really. But Granny Dee sits and knits and watches and waits. Where do you think all the scarves have come from? And pot holders?”