Chapter 5
Lizzy
Every Saturday evening is spent at Tom and Betty’s for dinner. Tonight is no different. I showered and changed at work, so I go directly to their house.
As I approach the house that glows year-round with white Christmas lights, warmth overwhelms me. They aren’t related to me by blood, but they’re the closest thing I have to family.
I park on the street in front of their cozy home and walk up the path to the front door. Knocking once, I slip my key into the lock and let myself in. While they’re both spry, I try to minimize the physical tasks they do for me, even something as simple as walking to the door.
The entrance leads straight into a foyer. From here, Tom studying a chessboard is in my line of sight, causing me to smirk. Looks like he’s preparing to lose to me this evening.
As I strip off my coat, Betty comes shuffling down the hallway. The elderly woman brings forth almost as much comfort as the smell of the lasagna does. She has Tom wrapped around her precious finger, as evident by the way he stands when she enters the room.
“Lizzy, sweetheart, come, come. You’ll get sick standing that close to the door,” she chides.
Finally noticing me, Tom turns and gives me a challenging eye. I tilt my chin in warning, and he laughs.
I bring Betty in for a hug. She pulls me close, but when my hands wrap around her, she pushes me back.
“Dear girl, go run your hands under some water, they’re far too cold! Where are your mittens? The ones I got you?” She’s the perfect picture of a scolding grandmother with her hands on her hips, bent down looking at me with her bronzed cheeks stained a rosy color.
“I ran in them yesterday. I need to wash them.” It comes out far too meek, never wanting to disappoint Betty.
“Well, let me know if you need me to get you another pair.” Despite having a job that pays me enough to buy my own outerwear, I don’t turn Betty down. I hate the thought of her spending money on me, but she loves to shop, so I know it brings her great joy.
Betty strolls into the kitchen, telling us about the lasagna in the oven. Meat and veggie, my favorite. We follow her, and the conversation quickly turns into a debate of who will win the chess match when Betty stops us.
“Oh, there won’t be time for any chess tonight.” She fiddles with her tan fingers as she says it. Betty’s not one to be nervous or fidgety, so I look around. Only then do I notice the table. Or rather, the fourth setting at the table.
“Betty, are we expecting company?” When she avoids eye contact, my hackles are raised. I eye the woman feigning innocence.
“Why, actually, we are, now that I think of it,” she hums out as she adjusts the flower centerpiece.
“Honey, who’s coming?” Tom questions, clearly not happy with the sudden change.
She mutters something under her breath, then straightens her back.
“Norris, my gal down at the center. She’s the one who always wins bingo.
Well, I was talking to her about you, about how great of a girl you are.
I mentioned the poor luck you’ve been having with those dating websites.
Well, she confessed her grandson was struggling as well.
When I mentioned Saturday dinner… it just sort of happened. ”
“What happened?” I narrow my eyes at the con artist.
She raises her hands defensively then eyes her husband. “Garrison sounds like a lovely boy, and he’s joining us for dinner.”
I huff a breath, betrayed by the news. She didn’t even warn me. Now, I’m being set up with a random man.
Tom’s eyes widen at his wife, then when he glances at me, he blanches. “I didn’t know. I swear. I would’ve told you.”
“Which is exactly why I didn’t tell you!” Betty snaps.
I just stand there, unable to speak. On the one hand, I did tell Tom that if Betty had any bingo friends to set me up… However, that was a joke.
“Okay. What do we know about this man? I need to strategize.” Tom nods in agreement, but again, Betty averts her gaze.
“Betty, honey, please tell me you know something, anything, about the man you invited into our home?” Tom pleads.
“I know he’s Norris’s grandson. She’s quite a lady. Bakes a delicious pumpkin pie for the holidays.”
Tom sputters. “Now, darling, is this a sure thing? I mean, is a young man really intruding,” Betty narrows her eyes. “Erm, I mean coming to our family dinner?”
Betty’s chin quivers. “I just… I just wanted to help our dear Lizzy find someone. I didn’t mean to overstep.”
She sniffles, and my chest tightens. Tom crosses the room to his wife and pulls her into his arms.
“What you did was very sweet, honey. We’re both very grateful.” Tom sends me a warning look over his wife’s shoulder. “Maybe next time, we don’t make it a surprise?”
“Thank you, Betty. You really didn’t have to do this.” No really. “You’re always taking care of me. Thank you.”
After a few more sniffles, Betty smiles and pulls back. “I think this will go really well!”
…
Garrison has been here all of ten minutes, and it is not going very well.
Betty insisted I open the door when he knocked, and he tried to greet me, a total stranger, with a hug. When I declined said hug, he sneered at me and called me ‘stuck up.’
That was the beginning of this nightmare.
Now, in the two-move Fool’s Mate checkmate, he lost to me and accused me of cheating because ‘no girl could win against his superior intelligence.’ Only to fall for the same checkmate a minute later against Tom.
He then clears the board with one swoop of his arm.
When Betty clutches her chest in horror, Garrison has the decency to clean his mess and blame it on tennis elbow.
Tom perks up and asks what classification he plays at.
Garrison boasts of his 9.0 level. To which Tom, barely suppressing a grin, notes he’d never heard of anyone above a 6.
0, so Garrison must be above a professional level.
When I add that it was, ‘really impressive,’ Betty sends me a scolding look.
When we make our way to the kitchen to eat, the smell of lasagna overwhelms me. My mouth instantly waters, and embarrassingly, my stomach grumbles.
“I know some guys don’t like it when their women starve themselves, but I think a woman with a tiny waist is so sexy.” Garrison gives me a once-over, then raises a brow.
My sweater hides my lean build that I’ve developed from running, not from starving. Especially not from lack of eating this lasagna.
Tom’s grip on the serving spoon is so tight that his knuckles are white. I’ve never seen him clench his jaw in such a way. When Tom serves me, he piles up almost half the lasagna on my plate. There’s so much that it almost spills off the plate. I stifle my laughter at Garrison’s look of disgust.
The three of us dig into the delicious meal, but Garrison picks up his cutlery and starts dissecting the meal. With almost surgical precision, he extracts every vegetable.
“Is there something wrong with your lasagna?” I maintain an even tone, hiding my amusement. Tom coughs to conceal his laugh.
Garrison’s eyes narrow at me. “I don’t believe in vegetables.”
Betty’s eyebrows stitch together. “I’m not sure I understand, dear.”
“I don’t believe in vegetables,” he repeats slowly.
“They’re not the Loch Ness Monster. They’re real. And right there on your plate.” Tom points his fork at Garrison’s discarded pile.
“They have too much fiber.” He glares at Tom. “They back me up.” Tom raises a brow. “I can’t shit when I eat them.”
Betty looks mortified. Her cheeks redden as she clutches her chest. I’m not sure anyone’s dared to speak so tactlessly in front of her. Tom takes one look at his wife then at me and raises from his chair. He looms formidably over the table.
“Garrison, why don’t I walk you out,” Tom offers in a sharp voice.
“Nah, I’m not done yet,” Garrison says through a mouthful.
“Yes, you are. Get up.”
“You’re kicking me out?” Garrison’s tone is affronted as though we’re the ones overstepping.
He glances at the two women in the room as if he expects us to defend him.
When we don’t, he flies out of his seat and hovers over me.
“Fine! I wouldn’t fuck you even if you begged for it.
You’re not even nerdy in a sexy librarian kind of way. You’re just frumpy.”
I blink rapidly, trying to process what he said. No one’s ever spoken to me this way, not since…
Before my mind can even go to that dark place, Tom’s already rounded the table and is dragging Garrison by the scruff of his neck out of the room. I hear the front door open, then slam shut.
Tom returns to the table and begins eating as normal. If it weren’t for the stiffness in his shoulders, I’d question whether Garrison was a figment of my imagination.
After Betty returns with brownies, she sighs. “I never should’ve trusted Norris. The hag cheats at bingo. Of course her kin would be a disgrace.”
The statement is so unexpected that I start laughing and can’t stop. Betty never speaks ill of anyone, which makes it all the more humorous. I laugh until I have tears streaming down my cheeks. Eventually Tom joins in, and we’re doubled over clutching our bellies.
Betty lets out a few giggles then claps her hands together. “I’m officially hanging up my match-making gloves.”
“One and done?” I ask lightly.
“Garrison and done,” she agrees solemnly.
“You know, dear, I don’t think these guys your age are worth looking into. Maybe just keep to your snakes.” Tom’s nose is scrunched as he says it.
Not long after, Tom and I retreat to our game of chess. Betty watches her soap opera while we play. It’s a comforting way to end a ridiculous evening. When the snow starts to fall quickly and heavily, they insist I stay the night.
And the next morning when I arrive home, my driveway is already shoveled, just as I knew it would be.