Chapter 14 – Grant
FOURTEEN
GRANT
She was like watching a time lapse of a plant grow. Sprouts and twigs and vines all searching for the sun.
In the end, it was all rather cute. We’d gotten our sandwiches and taken a table close to where Claire was finishing up eating. I’d hidden the ketchup on our table and told Flowers to go ask her new potential friend if we could borrow hers.
She resisted. I insisted. Finally, she went.
Somehow Flowers had managed to keep the conversation going beyond just can we borrow your ketchup, and by the time she came back to our table she was beaming.
Claire gathered up her garbage to throw away, but as she walked by our table she waved and said, “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is great,” Flowers replied.
I took a bite of my sandwich and felt a smidge of satisfaction for a job well done. Flowers was right. This was a good idea. She needed a friend her age. Someone she could hang out with. Go to bars and clubs with. A wingman.
Someone she could share secrets with.
Did Flowers have any secrets? That wasn’t possible, was it? Surely, she’d told me everything. I knew about her past. I was the largest part of her present. There were days I felt there was nothing about her I didn’t know, which made me entirely uncomfortable.
And also, felt good at the same time.
I watched her take a bite of her salad and thought to myself:
She doesn’t really like salad.
“Why did you order a salad?”
“Hmm?” she asked, around a forkful of lettuce.
“Why did you order that? I can tell you don’t really like it.”
“Right,” she snorted. “Because who likes salad? I ordered it because I really wanted a chili dog, but I’m on hot dog restriction.”
Don’t ask! This is how it starts.
“Hot dog restriction?”
“Yeah, it’s a thing. Ever since I started working for you and could afford whatever groceries I wanted, I decided it was time to find out what I really liked.
I mean, in the state home you ate whatever they provided.
On the streets, it was about what you could scrounge up in a day.
When I worked at the diner, we could only take approved leftovers home, which was a lot of tuna fish salad.
I don’t think I can look at a tuna fish salad sandwich again.
Once I had the funds to shop for myself, I went on this whole exploration of food to find out what I enjoyed. ”
“Fascinating. And what did you discover?”
She winced. “That’s kind of the bad part. I discovered I really only like the bad stuff.”
“Bad stuff?”
“Hot dogs. Mac & cheese. Steaks. Cheese of any kind. Hamburgers. Chocolate, but that’s obvious. You know what I don’t like?”
I shook my head.
She pointed at her plate. “Salad. Vegetables. I mean, I tried every kind. Everyone goes on and on about how delicious asparagus is. Are you kidding me? And brussel sprouts? They’re only edible if you, like, dunk them in ranch dressing.”
“There are delicious vegetable dishes. You simply need to do more exploring and learn how to prepare them properly.”
She lifted her chin in that way she did when she was being stubborn.
“Nope. It’s a myth. They’re not good. But I recognize they are good for me. Which means I let myself eat hot dogs, but when I feel like I’ve gone overboard, I put myself on restriction and choose salad instead. That is why I ordered this salad. Why did you ask?”
“Because I was hoping to hear a diatribe on your dislike for vegetables, of course.”
“Well, fair warning. You ask a question, I’m going to give you an answer.”
“So noted,” I said, taking another bite of my sandwich. Grilled chicken and avocado. No mayo, no bacon, no cheese.
Not because I didn’t like mayo, bacon and cheese. I loved them all. It was just that Allison had always been so strict with our diet.
Lean protein, low fat, limited sugar. She was extremely health conscious.
After I lost her, it didn’t occur to me to stray from what had been our habit. It’s not as if food brought me any pleasure. For months after I’d lost her, I had to force myself to eat. I’d barely tasted anything.
Except now, I thought this sandwich tasted pretty dry.
“I ordered this because grilled chicken is a lean protein and avocado is a healthy fat.”
She looked at me, trying to understand the point I was making, and nodded. “Yep, you’re Mr. Healthy. Who walks up steps when there is a perfectly good elevator available?”
“You should be grateful I did,” I pointed out. “Now you have a lunch date with the receptionist.”
Flowers put down her fork. “You think she’ll like me?”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“I’m a little weird.”
She was. A little bit. Her approach to things was different. I didn’t know many women her age, but the ones I had known over the years, employees I’d hired directly out of college, didn’t have Flowers’ depth. Which I’m sure had everything to do with too many difficult life experiences too early.
They also didn’t have her…innocence.
She was becoming a fully formed human in front of my eyes.
Buying all sorts of food just to figure out what she liked, only to land on hot dogs?
Yes, she was a little weird, but she was inherently likeable.
I knew this because all my potential clients who met with us, were immediately put at ease by her. Not only was she very observant with people, she was also a relaxing presence. People weren’t as nervous around me when she was in the room.
“You’ll be fine,” I told her. “Just be yourself.”
“Right. Because you like me. And if you like me, anyone can like me.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, not sure if I was offended or not.
“Just that you barely tolerate people in general. If I managed to worm my way into your good graces, then I must be likeable in general.”
It was true. I didn’t like many people. I’d always been that way. Even as a kid. I spent a great deal of time in my head, and people tended to cost me focus, which was always annoying.
I didn’t have any friends in high school. College was better, I had some acquaintances from classes.
Then of course, there was Allison.
Once I had her, it never felt like I needed anyone else. She was enough, more than enough, for me. Because she knew me better than anyone. Or at least, understood me better.
Better than my parents, my younger sister.
So what was Flowers?
My assistant. Yes. My employee. Yes.
Did I like her? I certainly tolerated her weirdness.
Hot dog restriction. It was preposterous.
“You done?” I asked her, suddenly uncomfortable with the topic. “We should be getting back.”
“Yes, the salad dressing was delicious,” she said with a wry smile, as she gathered up her napkin and plastic utensils into a tidy pile on the salad bowl.
“See, that’s why people think salads are good.
Dry lettuce and vegetables? Gross. But cover this baby in creamy ranch dressing and you’re like, oh, salads are awesome. It’s a total mind fuck.”
“I do like you,” I blurted out.
She seemed startled by my declaration.
Maybe it was a little awkward, but it was the truth.
“You must be right, then,” I said. “You must be inherently likeable, because…well, I don’t. Like a lot of people, that is.”
“Yeah,” she said, softly. “I get it. You don’t have any time for the bullshit. Too much to do. A lot of people are all about the bullshit.”
Yes! That was so exactly right.
“You can take a longer lunch tomorrow if you want,” I offered. I stood and rolled up the wrapper of my sandwich. “Give yourself a chance to really get to know Claire.”
She hip checked me as she walked by to throw out her trash. “I thought you were supposed to go back to being mean tomorrow?”
“You’ll need to come in early and work even later to make up the difference.”
“Now, that’s my Bossman! Happy to oblige.”
I gathered my trash and dumped it in the bin behind her.
I held on to my iced tea, as it was still half full, and took another sip as we waited to cross the street back to our building.
“I don’t like iced tea,” I announced. “This is unsweetened and it’s kind of bitter.”
“Then why did you order it?”
“Because it’s better for me than soda,” I realized it, even as I said it.
“See. You put yourself on soda restriction and you didn’t even know it. It’s okay to let go every once in a while though. You should remember that, too.”
Let go. When was the last time I’d let go of anything?
Allison. I’d had to let go of Allison.
But had I?