Chapter Eighteen #2
“Even so, your grandma loved you and more than likely knew it was a phase you had to go through and would eventually come out of. Grandmothers are wise that way. Parents are too. It’s how they survive those hormonal teenage years instead of locking their bratty children in the basement until they’re twenty-one.
You need to forgive yourself and focus on the good memories. ”
I nod. “There are a lot of those. She’d organize game nights every few weeks.” I raise my gaze toward the sky and smile like she’s up there.
“Tell me about them.”
I lower my head to find him studying me like he’s searching for annotations on my skin. My face warms under his scrutiny. “We’d play Scrabble, Life, even the Survivor board game. And Nana kicked ass at Jenga. She had the steadiest hands until the end. Probably from all the knitting.”
“See! Focus on that and not the other stuff.” Adam lightly swipes his shoulder against mine before quickly pulling back.
“I have my own guilt about Marcia. We spent so many years apart and maybe I should have asked my dad more questions about why she never came around anymore. I waited way too long to reach out on my own.”
“You were a kid!”
He gives me side-eye. “So were you. Anyway, I’m glad I’m here now. I was a little jealous of your bond with her when I first moved in. Like maybe you’re the grandchild she wished she had.” He blushes.
“Well, we’re even because I’m still a little jealous that you get a second chance to make things right with her. We have an amazing relationship, but you’re her grandson. She adores you.”
“So much that she gave you the guest bedroom and stuck me on the couch.”
“I pay rent!”
“I know. I’m joking.” He brushes his side against me again but doesn’t move away this time. I shiver again… the full-body kind. I hope Adam doesn’t notice.
His lips quirk because, of course, he notices. “It’s cold and…” He gestures toward Rocket, who’s inched himself away from the small group of other dogs in the run and is curled on his side. “We should get him home before he falls asleep.”
I don’t argue.
Adam calls him over. Rocket raises his head and trots over at a significantly less energetic pace than usual.
“You tired, boy?” In answer, Rocket buries himself in between Adam’s legs. When my first thought is “lucky dog,” I vault off the bench. “Let’s go.”
We’re back on our block before we know it, and I’m considering splurging for a sampler box of cupcakes from Baked by Melissa for the three of us to share at home when I see a familiar blond head outside Le Café Coffee next door. “Marcia!”
Adam blocks my way with his arm. “Wait.”
“What?”
“She’s talking to someone.” His arm is still against my chest.
“So?” I know many of Marcia’s friends from the gym and just living with her for the last eight months.
Maybe I want to say hello too. At further glance, I decide the woman she’s talking to—petite with shoulder-length reddish-brown hair that has the glossiness of a fresh professional blow-dry despite the damp but humid air—does not look familiar.
Marcia throws her head back in a laugh and smooths down her own hair.
The other woman blushes and takes a step closer to her.
Are they flirting ?
“Is my grandma flirting?”
Marcia plants a playful tap on the woman’s wool-blend mod coat.
“She’s totally flirting.” My surprise is not judgment.
There’s nothing wrong with Marcia getting her flirt on; I’ve just never witnessed it before.
My already pleasant mood ticks up a notch at the sight.
“Your grandmother is so pretty. She should be dating!” She blurted at the diner that menopause had messed with her hormones, but maybe she’s ready to get back out there now.
Would she even still have sex at her age?
Just then, Marcia looks in our direction and waves. We watch as she says goodbye to the woman and walks over to us with a bright smile. “I was wondering which of you had Rocket.” She bends to pet the dog, who stops licking the ground at his feet in favor of Marcia’s face.
“Who was that woman?” Adam asks as we enter the building and head toward the elevator.
I shake my head. He is so not slick.
Marcia, who is in the lead, looks over her shoulder at us. “You’ve never met Lois? She’s a neighbor… She lives in the other wing.”
“You seemed to like her.”
I jab him with my elbow.
“What? She did!”
Marcia whispers, “Can we table this conversation until we’re home?” and gestures toward the two other people in the elevator.
I swing my head toward Adam. I can wait. I’m not so sure about him.
The elevator stops on our floor. The door is barely open before Rocket is off like a bat out of hell with a renewed burst of energy. Marcia calmly saunters down the hall, while Adam and I work to match her slower stride.
“So what’s the story with Lois?” Adam asks not a second after we’re inside the apartment.
“It’s not what you’re thinking. She’s straight.” Marcia frowns.
I chew on my lip. “Do you wish she weren’t?”
Marcia blushes. “Kind of.” She busies herself switching the positions of two figurines on the ladder bookshelf in the living room.
“Have you thought about dating again? She’s not the only fish in the sea, and you shouldn’t waste the pretty! Right, Adam?”
She turns and points a pale-pink manicured finger at me. “You’re one to talk.”
Heat flushes my face. I can feel Adam’s gaze on me but don’t dare meet it head-on. “I date! Some. It’s hard to juggle with school and work. But we’re not talking about me right now.”
Marcia sits on the side of the couch. “I’ve actually been thinking it might be time to try again, but I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
Standing in front of her, Adam and I say, “The apps,” at the same time.
“But not Tinder!” Adam says.
Marcia looks up at us. “What’s wrong with Tinder?”
“It’s mainly for hookups.” Adam’s ears turn red like uttering the word “hookup” in a conversation with his grandma is outside of his comfort zone.
I giggle, and he grunts in response.
I flash him a teasing smile, then turn to Marcia. “Not necessarily. I know several people who met their significant others on Tinder. Sita from work. One of Carley’s cousins. That said, it’s definitely known for hookup culture.”
“Maybe that’s what I want,” Marcia says quietly.
Adam and I freeze.
“Why is it young people assume sex is for the under-forty crowd?”
I lower my gaze. I don’t think this. But I also don’t not think it.
“Leonardo DiCaprio is fifty and has no problem getting laid,” Adam says. “But his partners are all under twenty-five, so it doesn’t count.” He points at me and laughs. “You’re almost too old for him.”
I roll my eyes.
“Truth be told, it’s not all I want. I miss companionship with people my own age.” Marcia darts her eyes between us. “No offense.”
“Understandable,” I say.
“But I also want sex.” She smiles. “When I first lost Robert and tried dating, I used dating sites like Match, Jdate, and eHarmony, but everything is on our phones now. I’m intimidated by this swipe culture!” She stands and paces the room.
“We’ll help you!” I bring up Google on my phone and search “best dating sites for retirees.” The top three results are OkCupid, OurTime, and SeniorMatch. All three have website options too, but I’m confident between me and Adam, we can get Marcia comfortable with “swipe culture.”
“I’ll do it under one condition,” she says.
I look up from my phone.
Adam, who’s now sitting on the side of the couch Marcia vacated, freezes with his finger on the remote. “What condition?”
There’s a glint in her blue eyes. “You two set up profiles too.”
“Already done,” Adam says.
My stomach dips. He’s on dating apps? I wince inwardly. Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be? “I’m already on them too, but I haven’t been active in a bit… preoccupied with other things.” I swing my gaze toward Adam, hoping he’ll say the same thing.
He’s silent.
It occurs to me he might have met the girl from Keybar on an app, and my heart quickens in jealousy.
Has he seen her again? Is he with her when he’s not at home or at work?
Desperate to change my focus, I wave my phone at Marcia.
“Now that your conditions are sorted, let’s work on your dating profile.
” I gesture for them to join me in the kitchen, where I scoop a large handful of green grapes from the refrigerator, rinse them with water, and set them in a bowl on the table.
When the three of us are seated together, I take ownership of Marcia’s phone to fill in her basic preferences. She tells us she’s open to men and women between the ages of sixty-five and seventy-five who live within a ten-mile radius of the Union Square zip code.
I’m about to ask if she’s looking for new friends, long-term dating, short-term dating, or hookups—I won’t make assumptions—when Marcia says she’s happy to be able to openly search for both men and women.
“I don’t care what anyone else has to say about it.
” A relaxed smile crosses her face. “That’s the best part of getting old. I have no more fucks to give.”
Adam whispers, “Did she get that phrase from you?”
I shiver at his breath on my ear. “No comment.”
He shakes his head but laughs. “I assume by anyone , you mean my dad.”
“I mean everyone, but that includes your father.”
“I still can’t believe he cut you off when you told him you were bi. What century is he living in?”
“In your father’s defense, I didn’t take his feelings into consideration when I came out to him,” Marcia says.
“It’s not his feelings that mattered!” Adam and I say at the same time.
Marcia’s eyes crinkle at our loud twin protest. “True. But I brought a woman to his house as my date without any warning. Since he didn’t know I’d started dating again at all, it was a double whammy.”
“I remember that day. It was July fourth, right? We had a pool party.” Adam scratches his neck. “It’s the last memory I have of you from before times.”