Chapter Twenty-Six
T he next morning, Adam picks Marcia up at the hospital while I stay back to prepare brunch.
Prepare , in my case, defined as: I set the table with the fresh turkey-and-brie heroes, penne pesto salad, and seedless green and red grapes I bought from the Garden of Eden market next door.
After calling Jenny and asking if she’d be okay with us being late to work, she told us to take the day off.
Between Fruit Punch–Gate and Marcia’s hospitalization, she said we deserved a break and that the library would still be there on Friday.
They get home just as I finish straightening out the mess Adam and I made last night in the living room before we moved things to my bedroom.
It’s more mayhem than mess, and if you didn’t know we’d tossed our shirts on the floor and kicked the cushions off the couch in the heat of passion, it might not make an impression, especially since both shirts are technically Adam’s.
But the apartment needs to be tidy for Marcia’s homecoming.
We haven’t discussed what last night meant or if it meant anything at all, but we did agree to dote on Marcia and make her life as easy as possible from this point forward so she doesn’t have another hypertensive urgency… or worse.
Rocket is waiting at the door and Marcia greets him first by bending and lovingly rubbing his ears, then grabbing him by the collar when he tries to make an escape out the door.
In a baby voice, she coos, “You lull me into thinking you’re happy to see me, but you’re really only using my arrival as an excuse to run laps down the hallway and annoy our neighbors.
Aren’t you, my love?” She stands and smiles at me.
I take her in… still wearing the jeggings and button-down chambray shirt we found her in yesterday.
She looks tired. Her skin lacks its usual color and there are dark circles under her eyes.
Her top is uncharacteristically wrinkled and the ends of her bob are uneven, like her hair hasn’t been brushed.
I imagine what could have happened to her if we didn’t get home in time and start to choke up.
But then I collect myself because we did get home in time and she’s fine .
I straighten my back. “How are you feeling?”
“Right as rain.” She purses her lips. “Maybe a little tired but only because of all the constant beeping and the nurses coming in to check my vitals every five minutes.” She walks into the kitchen with me, Adam, and Rocket following behind her and pauses, her eyes sweeping the fully set table and the containers of food on the island. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“We wanted to,” I say.
“We figured you’d be hungry for something besides Jell-O or whatever they fed you at the hospital,” Adam says.
She pats his cheek. “Thank you. Do you mind if I shower first?”
“Of course not,” Adam says. “Lunch can wait.”
“Can I draw you a bath?”
She looks at me funny.
“A bubble bath can be relaxing. For your blood pressure.” I defend my offer even though I’m reeling because, seriously, Can I draw you a bath? What am I, her lady’s maid?
“If you say so, but no thanks.” She furrows her eyebrows as if she’s contemplating saying more but thinks better of it. “I’ll be a few minutes.”
“Take your time, Grams.”
As soon as we hear the click of her bedroom door, Adam leans over the kitchen island on his elbows and closes his eyes.
“You all right, Adam?”
He doesn’t move at first… just nods… but then he opens his eyes and straightens his back. “It’s all just hitting me now how differently things could have played out.”
I release a breath. “Same. She’s okay though. Try to focus on that.”
He chews his lip. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… I haven’t been in a hospital since my mom was sick.”
My heart skips a beat. It hadn’t occurred to me that he’d connect the two situations, but of course he would. “I’m so sorry. But Marcia is fine, and we’ll make sure she stays that way.”
He swallows. “Right.”
Feeling helpless and needing a purpose, I walk to the back of the kitchen and pour a cup of coffee. “You look like you could use this,” I say, placing it in front of him.
Marcia joins us, fresh out of the shower and wearing a light blue fleece hoodie and matching pants. “Do I smell coffee?”
Adam and I exchange glances.
“How about I make you a cup of decaf tea instead?” I offer.
“Sabrina’s right. Caffeine’s probably not a good idea,” Adam says.
Marcia slides into a chair. “Coffee is fine in moderation, even if you have high blood pressure.”
Adam raises an eyebrow. “You literally just left the hospital.”
She sighs. “Fine. To be safe, I’ll wait until after I see my regular doctor next week.”
“I’ll have tea too in solidarity.” I hate tea, but anything for Marcia.
Adam slides his coffee mug toward the center of the table. “So will I.”
Marcia pulls a face. “Don’t be ridiculous! Just because I’m abstaining from coffee doesn’t mean you have to.” She pushes to her feet. “I’m starving. Thank you again for making lunch.”
At the same time, Adam and I say, “Sit!”
“We’ve got this. Just relax,” I say.
She shrugs and sits back down while I make her a cup of tea and Adam fills her plate with food.
When we’re all seated again, she stabs her fork into a piece of penne. “So what did you two do last night?”
“We didn’t do anything!” I rush to say, my voice loud and squeaky. I sound guiltier than a shoplifter caught in the act.
Adam side-eyes me quickly before turning back to Marcia. “We watched TV and worried about you.”
Her brows furrow. “I’m sorry I worried you over nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing, Grams.”
She plops a grape in her mouth and her eyes widen with pleasure. “These are so sweet. Much better than last week’s batch.”
I vault from my chair. “I’ll get you more.”
Adam stands too. “Do you want more tea? Or water?”
“Sit down. Both of you.”
I freeze with my hand inside the refrigerator.
She gestures at our empty chairs. “Go on. We need to talk.”
We do as she says.
I choke on a nervous laugh. “Why does it feel like I’ve been sent to the principal’s office?”
“You’re not in trouble.” She looks affectionately between the two of us. “I appreciate you both taking such good care of me, and I will allow it for today, but starting tomorrow, all this doting needs to stop.”
I open my mouth to argue.
Marcia raises a hand. “I’m not that old, and although I do need your help for certain things, making a cup of tea, putting grapes in a bowl, and ‘drawing a bath’ are not among them.
” Her eyes twinkle at that last one. “This is not an assisted-living situation, and I will not allow it to turn into one.”
I frown. “I want to be the considerate roommate you deserve is all.” It is, of course, so much more than that.
“But it’s not is all to me. It makes me feel old and useless.
” She registers my dejected face and her eyes soften.
“If my doctor says otherwise at my follow-up next week, I’ll let you know, but in the meantime, please just treat me like your friend and roommate.
And you,” she says, looking at Adam, “I’m supposed to dote on you, not the other way around.
Be my grandson, not my caretaker.” Her eyes slide between us again. “Can you both do that?”
“Whatever you say, Grams,” Adam mumbles rather unconvincingly.
I kick him under the table. “As you wish.”
“So what do you want to do for the rest of the day? Let me guess, train for a marathon?” Adam teases.
I laugh.
Marcia rolls her eyes. “I was thinking of scrolling OurTime.”
Adam chokes on a bite of his hero. “Seriously? You think maybe you should ask your doctor about that too?”
She levels him with her eyes. “I’m just swiping, Grandson. I’ll ask my doctor about more rigorous activities next week.” She raises and lowers her eyebrows.
Adam’s mouth opens and closes.
She winks at me.
I chuckle.
“You promised you’d both do the same with Tinge or Humble. Any progress?”
I freeze. “Um… I…” Don’t look at Adam. Don’t look at Adam.
“Let’s make a deal, Grams. I won’t ask about the himbos you swipe right on if you leave my sex life to me.”
Marcia leans forward in interest. “What’s a himbo?”
I take this one. “It’s basically a good-looking, most often big-muscle guy who you assume is a jerk because he’s jacked… you know brawny … but is actually sweet, na?ve, and kind of empty between his ears. Like Jason on The Good Place . Or Joey from Friends .”
Marcia takes a sip of water. “And what makes you think I’m swiping right on Joey from Friends ? I’m just as likely to swipe right on Phoebe, who, come to think of it, is the female version of Joey. A herbo?” She giggles.
I can’t help joining in. The girlish sound coming from seasoned Marcia is delightful and charming, not to mention contagious.
Adam scowls at both of us.
Marcia sighs. “I’ve had a rough day and all I ask is that the three of us sit quietly and search for our soulmates on our mobile devices. Can you do that for an old lady?”
Adam smirks. “Oh, now you’re an ‘old lady’? How convenient.”
“It’s a perk of being eligible for Medicare.”
“Fine,” Adam says.
“What about you, Sabrina?” she asks.
I stand. “I actually have to shower and get ready for school.”
“You have plenty of time,” Adam says.
This is true, but scrolling the apps for potential dates and hookups next to the boy I fucked last night while he does the same is not a kink I’m into.
Especially when I have no idea what he’s thinking about me.
Was it a onetime thing to get it out of our systems, or something else?
But I can’t very well say any of this right now, so I have no choice but to sit back down.
Marcia smiles smugly and turns to her phone, her blue Warby Parker glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.
I watch her for a bit… so serious… she takes her time before swiping in either direction, apparently reading each word of every profile.
Unlike Adam, who is frantically scrolling left.
Good. I hope his back-to-back left swipes are because it doesn’t matter how hot and DTF his matches are, he’s thinking about how good I am in bed and when he’d like to get me there again.
My lips curve halfway up before flattening when Adam’s fingers freeze.
He’s staring at a profile as if considering swiping right.
What could have him so captivated? Most bios are four sentences long accompanied with basic information about height, education level, and interests.
It must be the pictures. My skin prickles with annoyance.
He could at least have the decency not to match with another woman when I’m sitting right next to him.
Since two can play at this game, I open my phone to Bumble and a notification immediately comes up.
There are 4 amazing people on Bumble who think you’re amazing too. Swipe right to meet them.
Take that, Adam .
My first admirer is Douglas. He’s fifty-four.
Swipe left.
The next one is Jeremy. He’s twenty-six but double fisting a cigar in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
Swipe left.
The third one is Dan. He’s twenty-eight and lives in Brooklyn. He’s cute and there’s nothing objectionable about his profile. I should swipe right. I glance at Adam. He’s back to rapid left swipes… no longer staring intently at one profile.
I return my focus to Dan and swipe left.
The fourth admirer is… my breath hitches. “Interesting.”
“See someone you like?” Marcia asks.
“Possibly.” I swipe right on the profile, smiling as a notification immediately pops up that I matched with Adam, who also sent me a compliment:
Adam: Whatever perfume you’re wearing is driving me wild.
I giggle and type a reply.
Sabrina: I’m not wearing perfume. It must be Marcia’s shower gel.
Adam laughs.
Marcia looks up from her phone. “Looks like you’re both enjoying yourselves.”
“Totally,” I say at the same time Adam says, “This was a great idea.”
Ping.
Adam: What are you doing later, Sabrina, 24?
I tap my lips.
Sabrina: What do you have in mind, Adam, 25?
“You still going to the co-op board meeting tonight, Grams?”
I jerk my head back. That was random.
Marcia looks up from her phone. “Yes, why? My blood pressure does not render me incapable of voting whether or not to install Nest thermostats in the units.”
“Don’t get defensive. I was just wondering.” He chuckles while typing.
Adam: Down to hang tonight after your class? Around 8?
Oh . Not so random after all. My insides tingle.
Adam cocks his head at me in question. I type my answer.
Sabrina: I’m down.