28. Grady
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Grady
A month passes in a blink. Indecisive March, caught between winter cold and hints of spring, finally gives way to April, with hot days and rain storms. My bad mood settles around me like the growing humidity. Even fishing with the dogs fails to satisfy me.
I wish I’d said yes to hanging out with Marina. I wanted to, but she caught me off guard. Everything about her catches me off guard. I caused the impact that started us, but she’s crashed into me ever since. Barreling through my walls. Softening my rough edges. Bringing me out of the shadows.
Still, I fumbled the chance, too stuck in my mantra and my fears over spending time with her. Alone. The uneasy truth is that I ache for her. Feeling this way not only takes me off guard but also unnerves me. Making her think I don’t want to hang out was probably for the best—she’s fine, and, given her slight tone after it happened, she won’t ask again. Perhaps it’s my punishment for what happened, an insatiable yearning for a woman I’ll never deserve—that’s okay, however much it worsens my mood.
Nothing affects her, though. She’s been in excellent spirits, as always. The G&G’s transformation has been astounding. She posts photos and reels, archiving the before and afters and highlighting unique finds around the store, like the antique Budweiser sign she’s since fixed up and displayed. Roy and Christie looked like proud parents, standing in front of it with Buds in their hands. She’s also shared the store’s history whenever Wade divulges it. Stories about him and Maureen, my grandparents, and even my great-grandparents, the original owners, who traded ten cows for the “worthless swamp” and started the G&G as a produce stand for local farmers—a vibe Marina has vowed to recreate. Marina is rewriting public opinion of the place, humanizing it through stories. I created an Instagram account to follow her daily updates and keep tabs on her without physically lurking, hoping she doesn’t figure out PianoMan is me. How could she? My avatar is my piano, which she’s never seen, and I have zero posts or followers. Her followers keep growing, up by a few hundred since I started paying attention.
She doesn’t post the negatives, like finding a den of ‘water bugs’ under the ice cream freezer or the horrifically dirty bathroom—Marigold tells me about what she calls the unpostables. Marina took care of a dead rat found outside the dumpster and a questionable can of Spam, cracked at the bottom and oozing a bluish mold. The horrors have become a cautionary amusement between them, not to be shared with other people.
Good thing I’m not other people, according to Marigold.
I always see Marina when I’m there to do tasks for Wade, even though I go at odd hours (the only time I have). I don’t seek her out, but she’s there, working on projects that have become increasingly more ambitious as she’s healed. The last time, I found her on top of a ladder, painting an awkward corner in the store. I spent the rest of the day holding it steady and spotting her, worried she’d fall or need something. Her soft smile assured me she appreciated it.
I don’t ask to help—I know what she’ll say. Instead, I just appear and make myself useful. This works better for us, putting me in her vicinity without much engagement and giving me an excuse to be near her. I want to be near her. I want to talk. But truthfully, I’m scared.
I once told a well-known MMA fighter with his own gyms that he was a lazy fucker and an asshole for not taking better care of his dogs—a confrontation that ended with police involvement and him relinquishing his pets. I almost got my ass kicked, but still, I wasn’t scared.
Marina scares me. I’d give her anything, everything, even the real me—a frightening prospect since history proves I can’t hold a relationship together. Or even deserve to be in one.
Our encounters are always the same.
She smiles widely, and I offer something more muted.
We ask each other if we’re okay, and both say we are (though I’m not).
Then, the hesitation .
Finally, we return to our prospective work zones, usually after she says something like, “Well, those shelves aren’t going to paint themselves,” or “Back to the old coffee grinder.”
I spend the rest of the day ruminating on our hesitation—that moment between us when more begs to be said, but neither of us gives in. I get back to work thinking, what should I’ve said? A million answers flood me at once, dredging up her strange words to me that day. You look like a man with a million thoughts and no one to tell them to. Now, she’s the one I want to tell them to, only I don’t.
She doesn’t need me and deserves better anyway. Something more. Someone her age, for one thing. Someone to match her brightness and charm, who won’t bring her down. I’m not good for her. So, maybe that’s why I keep my mouth shut and my thoughts to myself.
But I miss her. Even when she’s right in front of me, gleaming with hope and beauty, I miss her.
“What’s gotten into your craw lately?” Elena asks as she helps me restock my supplies for farm visits. It’s a Thursday, barely seven, and I’m already late for the four farms on my itinerary. “Carmela said you missed Zoe’s horse show last weekend. Again.”
“So did you.”
“I told Carmela that my grandniece and grandnephew can have me for one event a month—that’s it—unless she wants to give up our Friday lunches or game nights or something else to free up the schedule. Too many expectations, right? You know that better than anyone, especially now that you’re helping Wade, too.”
Her raised eyebrow looks challenging, prodding me for more information about my arrangement. “That’s where I was Saturday, not that it’s your business.”
She chuckles. “I love it when you play cagey with me. But you’d better come up with a good explanation for yourself. Mack knows you’ve been spending time over there.”
“Shit, I asked Mom to keep it quiet.”
“It wasn’t her. Mack saw some of Marigold’s sketches. She’s been so excited to work on the new signs and, dang, a billboard! Marnie’s giving her such an incredible opportunity.”
My eyes cut to hers at the mention of Marina’s name, and she grins like that’s the reaction she wanted. “Hopefully, Dad will see that, too. I’ll talk to him. I should’ve done it sooner.”
“How are things with Marnie, huh?”
“I don’t have things with Marina.”
“Ah, Grady, don’t be coy.”
“She’s fine. I’m fine. Everyone’s fine and moving on. You should, too.”
“Hm, not everyone is fine.” She holds up her phone. “She’s getting major flack on her IG account. Have you seen it?”
She’s baiting me. “No.”
“It started with random comments about the G&G being grubby and gross—very original—and moved into horror stories about the store’s lack of cleanliness and creepy employees. Lately, it’s about Marnie, too. How she’s betrayed Sunny’s, yada, yada. It’s only the unidentifiable profiles hating on her. If I had to guess, I’d say Cora and her rich friends are targeting her.”
“Marina can handle it,” I say with stern confidence.
“No doubt. I noticed many unidentifiable profiles following Marnie’s account.”
My eyes cut to hers again.
She grins. “Like PianoMan.”
“Don’t you have better things to do than trolling social media and goading me?”
She laughs. “Not really. Wade tells me business has picked up regardless, even without the renovation being complete.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Wade seems happier, too. Never thought I’d live to see the day,” she continues, handing me wrapped gauze and extra gloves. “Don’t you think this could’ve happened for a reason, Grady? The universe’s way of reuniting the family and bringing you and her together?”
“No, it was a damn accident, not divine intervention. What she lost… It shouldn’t have happened.”
“Everyone seems better for it, though. Everyone’s doing fine, except you.”
“Elena, I’m already running behind, and the day hasn’t really started yet. Can we just cut to whatever you want to say so I can get out of here?”
“You care about her, but Marigold and Wade say you’re quiet and distant around her. Why?”
Because she scares me.
Because she deserves more.
Because if I hold her again, I won’t let her go.
Because my guilt is a burden I should carry alone.
“She’s too young, too beautiful, and too goddamned cheery for me,” I say with my sternest, surliest voice.
“No, she isn’t. She’s not too anything for you. Don’t use her age as an excuse?—”
“I’m not. I mean, maybe I am. Look, I’ll always feel bad about that day, but she needs space. I’ve done enough for her now, haven’t I?”
“Of course, you have. I didn’t mean it that way,” Elena says. “I just meant… You’ve connected with this woman, asked her to rely on you, and she has. I only wonder if you could rely on her, too.”
I cut her a confused look. “What do you mean?”
“I think she might understand you in ways others can’t. Have you told her about Emma? About what happened?”
“No.” I scoff. “Why would I?”
“Oh, let’s see… it could unburden you and make you feel better. Marnie might understand and help remove that gigantic chip off your shoulder. You might let go of the past. It’d be good for you to talk to someone. She’s lovely, and you know you like her. Like her , like her. Pick your reason, Grady.”
My shoulders slump, and I don’t know where to begin, not that I have the time. So, I give her my stock answer. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
Her eyes roll under her chunky reading glasses. “Grady, go to her. Spend time with her. Give her a try. What harm would it do?”
I groan, flooded with answers.
Still, Elena gets her way—I spend my ten-hour farm rotation thinking about Marina until I’m desperate to see her, desperate to test Elena’s theory.