Chapter 40
forty
GREER
The earthy scent of patchouli mingling with cinnamon floods my nose as I let myself into my grandmother’s apartment. I immediately spot the arrowroot powder lining the door. It’s an old practice meant to help mental clarity for anyone who enters. More Hoodoo.
“You are going to scare off all the nurses and aides!”
“I’ll clean it up before they come,” she harumps.
“Aunt Marcel’s going to think I brought you the herbs.”
“Nonsense. I had it mailed to me.”
“And burned right before I came over,” I accuse. Those spices, and the basil I can now get a hint of, are used to increase attraction. Arrowroot to help keep my mind right. She’s trying to use rootwork to make sure Jude and I stay together.
My grandmother takes great pride in being a handful.
She’s going to live her life the way she wants.
And why shouldn’t she? I love this woman.
I told my grandmother once that she’d have been burned at the stake in the seventeenth century.
She laughed and said, “Nothing worth doing back then wouldn’t get you tied to a pillory. ”
I lean down to kiss her cheek. “Stop trying to interfere.”
“He asked you to be his old lady yet?”
I walk to collect her broom and dustpan. I want the arrowroot cleaned up before anybody happens into her unit. “The night he was patched into the club.”
She grins in satisfaction. “Don’t you go letting him talk you into not getting married properly.”
“Things are going very well between us. So you don’t need to conspire,” I chide.
“Is he the reason you aren’t answering your mama’s calls anymore?”
“No, it’s not. That’s all about me and Mom. It's like she gets bored and has nothing better to do but worry about me. Sometimes I’m at work or with Jude, or in the middle of working out, so she blows up my phone until I answer.”
“I told Marie and Marcel both that they need to let you girls be. Now your mama’s tied in knots over worry, and your aunt has that woman making a scene in front of Saint Augustine’s.”
“What happened at mass?”
“P.J.’s mother came up to her hootin’ and hollerin’ about how you and Allie ruined her boys' lives. Said that P.J. refuses to go back to college since they broke up.”
“Wait, what?”
“I was wondering if you knew about that, as occupied as you’ve been with your new man.”
“I’ve tried to call, but Allie’s not answering,” I explain. During their ‘breaks’ before, it was never a big deal. For others to know, it had to have been an actual end to their relationship.
“I’d like to know why she thinks you ruined Andrew’s life.”
I hate lying to my grandmother, but it’s almost instinctive when I deny, “No idea. She’s going to blame everybody but her sons.”
“Interesting,” Maw Maw replies. “You know, P.J. took off right after the breakup? Word is he packed up and left in under an hour.”
So P.J. and Allie are truly over and done.
At one point, a large part of me honestly believed that P.J.
was pretty close to the perfect guy for Allie, and that there were bumps in the road.
Since living here, I’ve seen more and more arguments, more secrecy, more unhappiness in my cousin than I've seen when I’ve visited in the past. Things have gone sour since P.J. started fighting.
I stay with my grandmother for most of the evening, folding her kitchen towels and answering questions about my life. With her, it doesn’t feel intrusive. It feels like love.
When we’re watching an old John Wayne movie together, my grandmother dozes off. I gather my things as quietly as I can, letting her rest. Heading out with my coupon for Crisco, I stop when she calls my name.
I turn with the door half ajar, “Yes, m’am?”
“Don’t you go thinkin’ I’m too stupid not to know how Andrew Smith ended up with those broken legs. I’m old, but that means I’ve been on this earth long enough to read between the lines.”
She punctuates what she says with a flourish of her hand, telling me to scoot on home. “Love you. Bring your man next time.”