Chapter 3. My Grandfather Has More Instagram Followers than Me #3
I understood where my grandmother was coming from, but I wished she had discussed it with me first when she was still around, instead of surprising me with it.
“That’s why it’s impossible. I’m never going to find someone, because you and Oma are relationship goals.
You two are the exception. Not the rule. ”
Opa paused in the middle of scooping more coconut rice. “We’re not the exception, honey. What your grandmother and I had was special, but there are lots of other couples in happy, long-term relationships.”
“I disagree. My parents never got their happy ending. You know what happened to me and Leo. The guy I met on a date yesterday, his wife left him for someone else, and now he’s on a mission to replace her by going on a dating spree with women who have the same name as his ex.
And why did Oma want me to settle down, anyway?
It’s such an old-fashioned Asian thing. Am I not enough of a person, or half the person that I am, if I didn’t have a partner in my life? ”
“You know that’s not it. She’s just worried you’re going to end up sad and alone.”
“I can be alone and still be happy,” I argued.
“I know.” Opa gave me a smile. “Just like I know you’re more than capable of looking after yourself, but also, a selfish part of me wants to see you settling down, so I can go in peace, knowing that when I’m no longer around, you’ll have someone to share your life with.”
My reply died in my throat, and just like that, my mood turned somber.
I’d been working my way around the country when news came that my grandmother had had a heart attack and was gone. I returned to Port Benedict for the funeral and hadn’t even had the chance to mourn her properly when she gave me the biggest shock of my life at the reading of her will.
A small part of me had quietly raged at Oma then, because she knew about my history with Leo, and how I hadn’t been in a serious relationship since.
I had considered ignoring the request and walking away, but I couldn’t, because she meant the world to me, and I knew how much the store had meant to her.
Then I’d learned that Opa’s health had taken a serious turn for the worse.
My grandparents never mentioned anything during our weekly video calls, because they didn’t want me to worry.
That was what had pushed me over the edge: It was crucial I inherited the store, because the earnings could help with Opa’s medical bills, since dialysis treatments weren’t cheap, and his savings wouldn’t last forever.
Plus, after spending years hopping between odd jobs that had nothing to do with my accounting degree and not knowing what I really wanted to do with my life, I figured this was my last-ditch attempt at finding my version of a fulfilling life.
So I stayed. Did what I could. I drove Opa to his thrice-weekly dialysis appointments, bought his groceries, ran his errands, took him to brunches, and spent time with him at gardening and woodworking expos.
According to Dr. Google, the average life expectancy of someone on dialysis was around five to ten years.
I didn’t know how much longer I had with my grandfather, so I was going to make every second count.
“Oma only wanted you to keep your options open.” Opa was still talking. “She had faith that the right person for you is out there somewhere. All you have to do is find him.”
“Finding a tiny needle in a haystack would probably be easier.”
“Nothing is impossible, remember?” My grandfather smiled. “Now, tell me more about that date you were talking about. What happened?”
I told him about Shane and how I’d run into Leo. “It was dreadful. Good thing a friend was there, and he helped me escape those people.”
“That’s awfully nice of him. Is this friend single?”
“I don’t know. I don’t go around asking people about their relationship status.”
“Let’s find out.” Opa placed his fork on his plate and reached for his phone.
I groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re going to stalk him on social media.”
“What’s the point of setting up these accounts if you don’t use them to learn about other people’s lives?” He opened his Instagram account. “Does this friend have a name?”
I knew he’d keep asking until I answered. “Rob. Rob Carmichael.”
He tapped and scrolled for a few minutes. “You don’t have him on your follow list. Let’s see if we can find him on Ellie’s or Alec’s profiles.”
“You’ve only joined social media yesterday, and you’ve already found my friends?”
“Yes. Why, what’s wrong with that? Oh, there’s a Rob Carmichael tagged in one of Ellie’s posts.” Opa turned his screen toward me. “Is this him?”
It was a carousel of pictures of Rob, Alec, and Ellie grinning into the camera, the beautiful pristine water of Port Benedict Bay glistening in the background, and Rob’s dimples nearly stealing the spotlight.
“That’s him.”
“Great.” Opa tapped on the follow button.
“No!” I tried to grab his phone, but he swatted my hand away. “Opa! You don’t even know the guy! Why are you following him?”
“Why not? Is there a rule that I can’t?”
“Yes! Because he’ll see that you’re following him and he might look at your profile and put two and two together and realize we’re related, and he’ll think we’ve been talking about him!”
“But we are talking about him.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Too late, I’ve already followed him. You don’t have to personally know everyone in real life to follow them, right? I’m also following a few woodworking influencers and a bunch of your cousins in Jakarta.”
There was a soft ping from my grandfather’s phone, and his face brightened. “Oh, he followed me back! He must have recognized you from my profile picture. Let’s see if he has a girlfriend.” Opa spent a few minutes inspecting Rob’s posts, muttering things like “ahh” and “hmm-hmm” every few seconds.
“I hope you’re not double tapping all his posts,” I said.
“Only a few. Is there a rule against that, too?”
I concentrated on my food, knowing it’d be easier to let him do whatever he wanted.
“Looks like he’s single. Although he doesn’t post a lot, so it’s hard to tell for sure.” Opa nodded. “Boleh juga,? Kim. He’s handsome, and he has kind eyes. And a friendly smile. Cheeky, but friendly. I approve.”
“No,” I said firmly. “You’re approving nothing. I’m not dating him or anything.”
“Didn’t you say he’s a friend?” Opa patted my hand. “I’m approving my granddaughter’s friends. You can never be too careful these days.” He set his phone down and picked up his fork again. “How are things at the store? Oh, have I told you we have a new nephrologist at the dialysis center?”
I listened as he told me about his new kidney doctor, but my mind still hadn’t moved on from his words earlier and what it had implied: that he might not have long to go, and I shouldn’t take whatever short time I had with him for granted.
But most importantly: that he—and Oma—meant the world to me, and I would do anything in my power not to disappoint them both.