Lola
Whenever I thought of Grandma Gladys, I thought of a strong woman. A formidable woman who built a business from the ground up and kept it running while raising young children through incredible ups and downs. I thought of a superhero.
My Grandma Gladys could do anything.
I always thought that if I wanted to be like her, to truly honor her, I had to be superhuman. But that was unrealistic, wasn’t it? Incredible people, the ones who seemed superhuman, weren’t actually superhuman.
They had strong communities and support systems. Regulars like Ollie, who stopped by every morning you were open, without fail.
Employees like Darlene who would do just about anything—including crime—to show their support.
Friends and family who always showed up to help, even when you were almost too embarrassed to ask for it. Especially then.
And love.
I had an abundance of love. For a small town in Tennessee, for damn good food. For an alien who had crashed into my life at exactly the right moment, and who showed me what it meant to fall in love again—with cooking, with myself, with him.
I should say it. I needed to say it.
“Kal?”
The drumbeat of my heart was surely too loud for my voice to be heard over it. Yet Kal responded.
“Yes, Lola?”
It was the look in his eyes that stopped me. I remembered what my dad said to me not too long ago: the eyes don’t lie.
Looking into Kal’s eyes, I knew two things for certain. One, I loved Kal. Two, I couldn’t tell him. Not yet. Something was holding him back.
It took more effort than I’d like to admit to blink away my tears.
I am okay. It’s all okay. Think of the positives! Think of all you’ve accomplished, and everything to come. That can be enough for now. There’s still time.
“Nothing,” I said eventually. “Just…thank you again.”
The tip of Kal’s tentacle grazed my cheekbone as he brushed away a wisp of hair.
“This has been the greatest time of my life,” he whispered.
My heart skipped a beat.
It took a flurry of phone notifications to pull me away. Space, I reminded myself. I’d promised myself I would give him space.
I cleared my throat and wiggled awkwardly out of Kal’s embrace.
When I’d accepted an invitation to celebrate Southern Charm’s newfound success with my family in the main house, Kal had said he wanted to stay back in my apartment. Alone. I didn’t push him on it.
Space, Lola.
Between the hugs from Mom and Dad, and the near-endless refills of my wineglass, I tried not to think about how one of the most romantic things someone had ever said to me sounded a lot like goodbye.