Chapter 18
VIVIAN
My grandmother is packing like she’s going off-grid for six months instead of a two-day trip that’s a one-hour drive from here.
“I don’t think white water rafting requires three cardigans,” I say from the doorway, watching her fold the third one with absolute conviction.
“It might,” she shoots back without looking up. “Weather changes. People are unpredictable. Rivers even more so.”
I lean against the frame, arms crossed. “You’re not packing for the river. You’re packing for every possible version of the river.”
She claps her hands, like I’ve just confirmed her point, and a tiny cough breaks through the moment, catching her mid-fold.
I straighten. “That again.”
“It’s nothing.”
“You’ve said that three times today.”
“And it’s been nothing all three times,” she replies, waving a hand like that settles it.
“It’s gotten worse since you got home from Atlantic City,” I say, pushing off the doorway and stepping into the room. “You should go to the doctor.”
She zips the bag halfway, then looks at me like I’ve just suggested something wildly inconvenient. “Vivian.”
“Grandma.”
We hold it for a second—me, trying to push. Her, not budging an inch.
She sighs, softer this time. “I’m fine.”
I don’t believe her. But I also know when I’m not going to win.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I glance down.
TY:
How was trophy design yesterday?
Enlightening. We’ve decided it’s a medal and the shape might be an ice skate.
Ty:
Is that original?
It works.
I wait a moment before I text again.
How was your session?
The typing dots come and go.
Ty:
…
…
Yeah. Just…a lot to process.
I bite the inside of my cheek, reading it again. A lot to process. I can only imagine.
“Boy?” my grandmother asks, like she can smell it from across the room.
I glance up. “Man.”
She smiles, satisfied, like that’s all the clarification she needs. “Ah.”
I hesitate, then step further into the room, sitting on the edge of her bed.
“He told me something the other night,” I say slowly. “About himself.”
Her hands still on the zipper, she asks, “And?”
“And I think it scared him to say it out loud.” I twist my phone in my hands.
“Why?”
She watches me for a long moment before I spill. “He’s autistic. Only found out a few months ago.”
“That’s something he wouldn’t have shared with you lightly,” she says as she goes back to packing. “And did you run?”
“No.” I laugh, shaking my head.
“Did you want to?” She shrugs. “Some women would.”
I think about it. About the way he looked at me across the table. The way he braced for something that never came.
“No,” I say again, quieter this time.
She nods once, like that matters. “Good.”
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
Her right eyebrow aches to an uncharacteristic height, nearly grazing her hairline. “You usually do.”
“You and Larry… did you ever question it? Like—if it was the right kind of love? If it would last?”
Her expression changes as she thinks about her words. I can tell she’s choosing them carefully.
“When I said to your grandfather ‘until death do us part,’” she says slowly, “I meant it.” There’s no hesitation. No doubt.
“I didn’t marry him because I thought it would be easy,” she adds. “I married him because I knew I wanted him beside me, even when it wasn’t. So now, with Larry, I don’t question things either.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Because, my dear girl,” she says, reaching out to stroke the top of my head in the way only grandmothers can do, “I’ve been lucky enough to have fallen in love with two men in my lifetime, and two that matter. So I don’t worry about it lasting. I worry about showing up.”
She gives a pop of her hip, and spins in a circle, eliciting a laugh out of me.
“You’ve always shown up for people, Grandma,” I remind her. “I think that’s one of the reasons I like helping so much, too.”
“I feel like I may have ruined you with my way of parenting.”
“At least you were in a position to be my parent.”
“Not everyone is built the same way, Vivian,” she continues, gentler now, the subject quietly turning. “Some people aren’t made to nurture.”
I don’t need to ask to know exactly who she’s talking about, but she answers anyway.
“Your mother…” A small pause. “She just doesn’t know how to be maternal, but she loves you even when it doesn’t feel like it.”
I nod, even if it still feels like something out of a fantasy novel. “I think I’m used to it by now.”
“You’re tough,” she says, kissing my cheek as she dances past. “And one day she’ll show up, and you’ll get to decide how she fits into your world. Until then, I want you to make sure you find your happiness. What Vivian needs.”
I’m busy thinking about what it is I need when my phone buzzes again.
Ty:
It was weird I didn’t see you yesterday. I wanted to.
Well, that undoes me.
I wanted that, too.
I glance up at my grandmother, who’s watching me with that same knowing look.
“You know, I hope he sticks around. I like hockey and I’m happy to be your plus-one for a game this fall.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The store has cameras, you know.” She closes her bag. “Sometimes I like to watch.”
I scream. Literally stand and scream and walk out of the room and back in. “You what? You watch me?”
“It’s fun for me. Have lunch, pull up the cameras…”
“GRANDMA!”
“What? Don’t hate me for it.” She shrugs. “I could be watching a soap opera, but instead, I watch you. And yes, I’ve seen you pull that ring of yours out of the safe over and over again for a couple months now. When will you stop torturing yourself?”
She watches me for a long moment, like she’s deciding how much to say.
“You’ve had a different set of circumstances, Vivian,” she says finally, voice gentle but steady. “Your mother made a choice. She took a job, followed a life that didn’t leave room for what you needed.”
I shift slightly, fingers tightening around my phone.
“And at a certain point,” she continues, “you became mine, and I am so glad you did, because I don’t feel like I got one daughter. I feel like I got two.”
Something in my chest hitches at that, warm and a little achy all at once. She reaches over, patting my knee.
“But it also means you learned to hold on to things. Tightly. Maybe a little too tightly,” she says. “To make sense of them. To keep them close so they couldn’t surprise you again. Maybe to show up, so things won’t suddenly disappear?”
I glance down, already knowing where she’s going.
“That ring meant something once,” she says. “And it’s okay that it did.”
I nod faintly. “It did.”
“But you’re not there anymore,” she adds, her tone shifting just enough to ground it. “And holding on to what it used to mean isn’t going to change anything now.”
“I know,” I say quietly as I let out a slow breath. “It’s not like I’m still in love with him or anything.”
“I know you’re not,” she says easily. “That’s not what this is.”
I look up.
“You have to stay open, keep your heart open,” she continues. “Open to something new. Something that might not look the way you thought it would.”
Her words settle over me as right then, my phone buzzes in my hand.
Her eyes flick down immediately, a knowing smile tugging at her mouth. “Is that a text from your boy?”
I glance up.
“Man,” she corrects herself, not even trying to hide the grin.
I smile as I sneak a peek at the screen. “It’s Ty.”
She leans back slightly, satisfied. “Okay. So I want you to focus on that.”
“On him?” I ask, half teasing.
“On you,” she corrects gently. “And whatever this is that’s starting. Don’t shut it down in your mind before it even has a chance to be something.”
I go quiet at that. It’s not something I thought I was doing, but it is something I can see myself headed toward. Find the hole. Poke at it to see the weakness is there.
She studies me, softer now. “You’re doing amazing, you know.”
“Grandma—”
“No,” she says, not letting me brush it off. “You are. You’re looking at that store with new eyes, trying new things. You’re building something.”
Her hand settles over mine. “And I get to be here for it,” she adds. “At this point in my life. I get to watch you become who you’re meant to be.”
My throat tightens.
“Thank you for that,” she finishes quietly.
I swallow, nodding once because it’s all I can manage. My phone buzzes again in my hand. This time, I don’t hesitate before looking down.
Ty:
Is it weird that I’m already looking forward to the next time I see you?
I start to answer but the three dots appear, so I wait.
Ty:
You know, I’m free tomorrow. I know you like to protect your Mondays for your day off, but maybe we could do something together?
Are we talking early morning or a lady-like afternoon start?
Ty:
I can go either way, but a lady-like afternoon start is my preference.
I think I stop myself just shy of an actual swoon. A girl could get used to this.
I must take too long to answer on Ty-time, so he comes in with the big guns.
Ty:
You know, I have an idea. It involves ice…
Yes, this all sounds good. Let me know what time I should meet you.
Ty:
I’m picking you up. It’s a date.
Okay, then let me know what time to be ready. I can’t wait.
Ty:
Same here. I’ll text you in the morning.
Sweet dreams, Vivian.
I read it again, thumb hovering over the screen like I need to make sure it says the same thing twice. It does, and I can’t help but laugh at how silly I feel when I observe myself.
Across the room, my grandmother lets out another cough, rustling through her bag like nothing in the world could slow her down.
Life keeps moving.
People leave.
People stay.
I look back at my phone, the message still open, still waiting. And for once, as I start to type out a reply, I don’t brace for the ending before anything’s even begun. Instead, I do something that is very unlike me.
I flip the camera around, snap a quick selfie with a real smile on my face, and attach it before I can overthink myself out of it. My stomach flips the second it sends.
But I don’t regret it.