Chapter 5 #2
I couldn’t even take time to say five nice things about myself to cancel out this bad self-talk. This time, my self-recrimination was deserved.
“I—” Her head shook back and forth as she thought.
“I wrote it on the back of the top paper, the plain white side,” I added.
Her shoulders, which had been at her ears, dropped with a sigh, her wince melting into supplication. “I didn’t see writing on the other side. When the numbers were a bust this morning, I must have crumpled the whole paper up and thrown it out.”
“Thrown it out?”
“Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“No. No.” I ran my hands down my face. “This is good. Trash went today. It’s probably long gone, on its way to the city dump a hundred miles away.” I loosed a breathy huff of a laugh—the kind of post-crisis relief.
“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding. “So you don’t need whatever you wrote down?”
I shook my head. Then nodded. Then shook it again. “No. I mean. I do, actually. But I can write it again.” I stumbled over the sort of truth. I’d almost said, As long as nobody else found it, that’s all I care about.
“Okay. Then good. Problem solved. It’s long gone,” she said with a hint of question in her voice, eyes narrowing as she spoke.
“Long gone,” I said, repeating her, and smiled a tenuous grin.
“And you’re sure you’re okay? You were really determined to find it.” She pressed her fingers to my forehead like I might have a panic-induced fever. I probably was worked up and sweaty from my search.
Maybe this was a sign after all? I had imbued so much importance on the list. I’d made it mean so much, and just like that, it was gone. I felt like there was a life lesson there I didn’t want to investigate. I would just find a new way to fix myself.
But that thought caused a tiny tinge of disappointment in myself. I had really thought this time was different, that I could change.
I laughed again with the wave of a hand. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” I repeated, but somehow sounded less certain. “Thanks, Grandma. I’m going to be okay.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.” She spun in a circle, spotted her purse, and pulled it out from under the counter. “Well. I’m off to the bonfire. Thanks again for watching the shop.”
I widened my eyes.
“Wait. What?” I called after her.
She hadn’t asked me to watch the shop. I would have remembered because I would have counted down the hours, unable to complete any other task until that time came.
“You did not tell me you needed me to watch the shop tonight,” I said. My nervous system wasn’t even regulated yet. I needed to do some square breathing before I could handle this.
“Well, maybe I didn’t explicitly ask you, but I’m fairly sure you watching the store was implied.” She flicked her hand out before digging through her bag to pop a piece of minty gum into her mouth.
“How’s that?” My voice was high, and the tension that had just left my shoulders was back.
“It’s the first bonfire of the season tonight. I assumed you assumed that I would be there. I’m helping Gigi hand out cocoa and cider.”
“You know what they say about assumptions . . .”
Grandma gave me the exact same look she would have given me at nine years old when I tested out talking back.
“Sorry.” I sucked in my lips.
“I doubt anybody will even come to the store with everybody down in town, so if you don’t want to work, then I say we just close up early, and you can come help us.”
She played her cards, knowing exactly how I’d take that offer.
I thought of the items on my list that would be crossed off if I came with her. Welp, too bad the list was gone now.
“Fine. I will close,” I mumbled.
“That’s what I figured.” She shrugged. “Also, there’s a chance a delivery is coming tonight.”
I frowned, already reaching for the calendar she refused to use. I was aware of all the comings and goings, and there wasn’t anything set to be delivered on a Friday evening. The local delivery guy was usually already at Bookers Pub by now.
“Don’t make that face. This is my shop; I can order things too. Anyway. I’m not even sure. Maybe it’s Monday.” She explained it all away with a wave of her hand.
This was why my grandma needed me. It’s been only her and me since my parents died, and we relied heavily on each other.
She had played fast and loose with “we will figure it out when we get there” my entire life.
As soon as I learned basic math skills, I started looking over her books and got my first taste of anxiety.
Thankfully, the world of management software meant there was little I had to do now that I’d gotten everything up to date, but her laissez-faire attitude still gave me hives.
Did she have a plan for her later years?
Did she know how she wanted to be looked after?
“If you change your mind, close up and come down and join us.” She was almost out the door already.
I mumbled some half-incoherent placation I never intended to follow through on.
“Youth is wasted on the young . . .” She huffed as she twinkled her fingers over her head as a goodbye.
“Bye.” I stacked the pile of notepads in front of me, futilely flipping through the pages, knowing I’d find nothing.
Okay. It was all good. Problem solved. The paper was in the trash, and I was alive. Nothing to worry about.
But I couldn’t shake this niggling feeling that my problem was, in fact, not over.
I could rewrite the list. I had put a lot of thought into it, but this felt like a sign that maybe I should give up on the whole change-my-life thing.
On the other hand, what if I were just looking for an excuse to give up the second I hit my first bump in the road?
Was this the new me that I endeavored to become?
I sighed and decided I would reevaluate in the morning. I was tired and ready to take it easy after the frantic rushing around of the last few hours. Time to let myself unwind with some crafting and forget about the list for a while.