2. Kiera
Kiera
K iera crossed the street from campus to The Magic Bean - the little café that she frequented between classes, along with most of the Grimm Falls College student body.
She was meeting her mother for a cup of coffee this morning and she was grateful for the distraction.
Usually, she would go back to the Kappa house in between classes or meet one of her sisters on the quad, but lately she wasn't too keen on running into any other Kappas.
The excuse to spend an hour off-campus, catching up with her mother was welcome.
The café was busy with other college kids all congregating for their morning caffeine fix.
There was a long line at the ordering counter and most of the tables were occupied.
There were a few people studying, their books and notes spread out in front of them, but it was pretty early in the semester and most of them were just there to chat, filling the café with a din of conversation.
Kiera craned her neck to look around and spotted her mother when she raised her hand in the air, waving Kiera over to one of the tables.
She weaved her way through the tight space and her mom stood to hug her as soon as Kiera arrived.
Kiera’s nostrils filled with her mother’s signature perfume and she hugged her a little tighter in return, thinking that it had been too long.
Kiera missed her mother, perhaps more now that she didn’t have her sorority sisters to lean on, or her best friend, Lauren.
Her mother pulled back and held Kiera at arm’s length, smiling and brushing her hand over the red knit cap Kiera was wearing. “Honey, red is your color.”
“You like it?” Kiera asked. She pulled the cap off and ran her fingers over the soft velvet yarn, then smoothed her long, wavy dark hair and said, "Nana made it for me the other night. She's really fast with those knitting needles."
"The red suits your fair complexion," Kiera’s mom said. "Maybe she'll knit me a blue one to match my eyes. Well, should we get some coffee?"
“Yes," Kiera said, “although this table probably won’t be here when we get back. I’m surprised you got one at all at this hour.”
“That’s alright,” her mom said as they went to stand in the ordering line. There were almost ten people ahead of them, but Kiera came here often enough to know that the baristas were fast and the line moved quickly. While they waited, her mother asked, “So what’s good here?”
“Everything,” Kiera said, “but if you want a more specific recommendation, the double fudge mocha is probably just sweet enough for your tastes.”
“It’s not nice to tease your mother about her sweet tooth,” her mom said, studying the menu on the wall behind the ordering counter.
Kiera already knew her mother would end up with something that had a minimal amount of coffee and a mountain of whipped cream on top – her standard order wherever they went.
After a minute, her mom said, “Well, I didn’t drive all the way across town just to discuss the menu.
How are things going with your grandmother? ”
“They’re going well,” Kiera said. “Nana’s teaching me how to bake, and she has a lot more good days than bad.”
Kiera had moved off-campus to stay with her grandmother last week and she knew that her mother was skeptical of this decision.
Nana had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s six months ago, about the same time that Kiera’s grandfather passed, and she’d been growing increasingly forgetful over the last few months.
Everyone was worried about her living all alone in the large house where she’d raised her family, but she refused to consider any other living arrangements.
Having Kiera there meant that, except for when she was in class or at her volunteer job, someone was watching Nana to make sure she didn’t leave the stove on or decide to go for a walk in the woods and get lost.
“That’s good,” Kiera’s mother said. “Just remember that you don’t have to take that responsibility on yourself. We can figure out alternatives if you want to move back on campus and go back to being a kid.”
“I’m twenty-one years old,” Kiera pointed out as the line advanced and they took a few steps closer to the counter. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
“I know, honey,” her mom said. “And I’m extremely proud of what you’re doing for your grandmother.
But it’s your senior year and I don’t want you to feel like just because you had a falling out with your best friend, you have to seclude yourself in that big old house with your grandma. You should be having fun.”
“I am having fun,” Kiera said. “Yesterday, Nana taught me how to make blueberry muffins.”
She didn’t bother addressing the other portion of her mother’s objections. Kiera would not have classified what happened with Lauren as a ‘falling out’ – more like the single most embarrassing and heartbreaking moment of her life.
“Well, I can’t argue with that,” her mom said. “Maybe you can bring a batch over to the house next time you visit. Your dad would appreciate it – you know I can’t even boil water, let alone bake muffins.”
Kiera rolled her eyes – her mom could learn to cook if she wanted to, but she was happy ordering in. There wasn’t much that she wanted which couldn’t be bought.
Then it was their turn at the counter and a pretty girl with slightly crunchy-looking, damaged blonde hair asked, “Hi, what can I make for the two of you?”
“I’ll have a double shot mocha frappe with whipped cream and chocolate syrup,” Kiera’s mother rattled off, then smiled as she nodded to Kiera and added, “and this one will probably just have something boring like black coffee.”
"Mom," Kiera objected, rolling her eyes. She turned to the barista and asked, “Can I please get a grande cup of the dark roast with one sugar packet?"
“Coming right up,” the girl said as Kiera’s mom handed over her credit card. She swiped it and then said, “If you’d like to have a seat, I’ll bring them out to you.”
"If we can find one," Kiera’s mom said with a wink. As they moved out of the way to make room for the next customer, she turned to Kiera and said, “I just hope you don’t let your stubborn side get the best of you. When you patch things up with Lauren, we’ll figure out an arrangement for your grandmother.
There are some really nice assisted living facilities out there that might change her mind about leaving home. ”
"Would you want to live with strangers?” Kiera asked.
“No,” her mother admitted. “But I don’t have Alzheimer’s and you’re not a nurse.”
The table that she’d been sitting at when Kiera arrived had, indeed, been taken over by a group of rowdy underclassmen when they returned, so they found a pair of overstuffed armchairs along the wall with a small side table between them.
Kiera and her mother sat down and she did her best to turn the conversation.
She didn’t want to spend the whole hour talking about her grandmother’s declining health any more than she wanted to spend it thinking about Lauren.
“I'm taking a very interesting class on grant writing this semester," she said. “It would have come in handy last spring before I started applying for grants at the teen center.”
“I’m sure you’ll win the grant regardless,” her mother said, unworried. “It’s a very good cause.”
Kiera nodded in agreement. She’d been volunteering at the teen center in downtown Grimm Falls since her sophomore year and there was so much more the center could do for the disadvantaged kids of the city if they had more funding.
Along with money for after-school programs and life skills courses, Kiera also had dreams of using the grant to cover an additional salary – her salary when she graduated college, so that she could stay on there full-time.
She’d been checking her email religiously ever since she applied for the grant and it was never too far from her mind – it was her future, after all – and Kiera’s mother took advantage of this brief moment of distraction to turn the conversation back to what she really wanted to talk about.
"Do you think you can forgive her?”
“What?” Kiera asked.
“It would be a shame to lose such a good friend over something like hurt feelings,” her mom said. “I always liked Lauren.”
Kiera felt her cheeks coloring and tried not to let her mother’s words get to her – she just didn’t understand the situation, and Kiera wasn’t in the mood to explain it.
“Yeah, I did, too,” Kiera said, then added under her breath, “That’s the problem.”
Or more precisely, the problem was that Lauren didn’t like her back.
There was also the minor detail that she’d told the biggest gossip in the sorority about Kiera’s declaration of love only moments after it happened.
They’d been drunk at the time, but that hardly made the betrayal any less painful.
“These things blow over,” her mom said, trying to be comforting even though she didn’t know all the details.
Kiera had simply told her that they’d had a disagreement, and didn’t have the heart to tell her about what.
“In a few months, you’ll look back on this fight and laugh at how silly you both were being. ”
“Mom, I really don't want to talk about it," Kiera said just as she spotted the bleached-blonde girl heading toward them with a couple of coffees in hand.
“Saved by the barista,” her mother said with a broad smile as she reached for her whipped cream and chocolate syrup with a dash of espresso. “Yum.”
The girl handed them each their orders, then asked, “Do you ladies need anything else?”
"No, it looks like you've got your hands full as it is," Kiera's mom said, gesturing to the line at the ordering counter, which had not diminished at all. She took a ten-dollar bill out of the pocket of her coat and handed it to the girl discretely. "Thank you for the table-side delivery, honey.”
"No problem,” the girl said, her eyes going a little wide at the size of the bill.
Kiera’s mother may not be able to so much as boil water, but she always tipped the people who could lavishly for their trouble.
The girl put the money in her apron pocket and started to walk away, but she only made it a couple of steps before she turned around and marched back.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Kiera’s mom said.
“I hope this isn’t out of line,” she said, “but I heard you talking about a relative with Alzheimer’s, is that right?”
"Yes, my mother," Kiera’s mom said. "Do you know someone who has it?"
"No, but my sister works with dementia patients,” the girl said. “She’s a nurse’s aide and she works at a long-term care facility.”
“My mother would never go for that,” Kiera’s mom said.
“No, of course not,” the girl said. “I was just thinking that if you ever want a reference for an in-home care nurse, or even just to talk about how to manage the disease, I bet she would be happy to help.”
Kiera’s mother glanced over at her and Kiera knew that expression – it was a the universe provides look. Then she turned to the barista and asked, “Is your sister looking for work?”
“Always,” the girl said, smiling and looking down at the floor. “She’s helping me raise my sons while their father is away at the moment and it’s not easy to feed two growing boys on the incomes of a barista and a nurse’s aide.”
“Well,” Kiera’s mom said, opening her purse and digging through it. “Have her give me a call. I’d be interested in talking with her.”
She took out one of her business cards and handed it to the girl, who tucked it into her apron along with her tip. She said, “Thank you. I’m sorry to have intruded - enjoy your coffee.”
Then she went back to the counter and Kiera turned to her mother, saying, “Nana’s not that bad. Do you really think she needs in-home care?”
“I think it’s worth looking into,” her mom said.
“You said yourself that you’re worried about what could happen while you’re away from the house.
I think we’d all feel better knowing there was someone there to look after her.
It’s a degenerative disease and she’s going to start having bad days sooner or later. ”
Her smile faltered as she said this last bit. Kiera reached across the little side table and put her hand on top of her mother’s – she always acted so strong, it was easy to forget that this was her mother they were talking about.
Then Kiera’s mom patted her hand, smiled anew, and said, “Now tell me more about this grant writing class. What’s so interesting about it?”