Chapter 6
Joyce
Two weeks later, I figured Richard had forgotten all about me, because I didn’t see anything from him in my social media feed. But then Gabriella showed me how to see notifications differently on my phone, and there he was!
I told her only that I was looking out for a request from an “old friend,” but as soon as his picture showed on my screen, she grabbed the phone from me and teased, “Ooh! He’s definitely a silver fox. Go ’head, Joyce!”
Gabriella took too much liberty in our relationship, if you ask me.
Calling me by my first name, too, when we were more than thirty years apart.
But that’s how young people do it, I suppose.
They’ve got ingrained freedoms my generation wouldn’t have imagined—not if you wanted to be respectable.
Not if you wanted to stay out of trouble.
So I didn’t fuss at her for snatching my phone to take a look at Richard.
She and I were two different people, with different backgrounds and upbringings.
Except, if I’m being honest, I would have to agree that Richard was nice-looking.
“He was my friend when I was in high school. I came here to visit my grandmother every summer back then.”
“Summer flings, huh?” Gabriella gave me my phone, as well as a pestering grin.
“I wouldn’t call it that.” I threw the phone in my purse.
Gabriella hadn’t made anything special that morning, so I’d made a quick bowl of cereal.
“You need somebody, you know?” Gabriella said.
“I do not. I’m rediscovering myself for myself first.” I stood to put my bowl in the sink.
She took it, and my spoon, from me.
“I can—”
“I got it, I got it,” she insisted. And in moments like that, I appreciated whatever was in her background that gave her such a sweet sense of hospitality, even if she didn’t call me “Miss” or say “ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
“Go. I need you out of here. Today’s trial recipe is major. I need to concentrate.”
This wasn’t the first time she’d kicked me out of our kitchen. I gave her a playful roll of the eyes and left her alone. When she got in her cooking zone, Gabriella could be somewhat fierce, until it came time for taste-testing.
“Just as well. I’m heading to the airport to get Elijah.”
She nodded.
“And by the way,” I added, “I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience for you, me bringing a kid into the house.
A ten-year-old boy, at that. I could pick up a robe or a housecoat for you if that would help.
” I wasn’t trying to be funny, but Gabriella had a few tributes to Daisy from The Dukes of Hazzard in her closet.
A housecoat would provide a quick and easy cover-up.
Her face crumpled in laughter. “A housecoat? Oh my God! If I ever own a housecoat, please call my family and stage an intervention, because at that point, I have given up on life.”
“I beg your pardon.” I gave Gabriella two slow blinks and a throat-clear, which caused her to cover her lips with a hand. “I am a proud member of the housecoat club. When and if you are blessed to join the ranks of the retired and relaxed, you will consider yourself blessed to own lounging attire.”
She shook her head. “You need somebody to get you out of the house. To get you out of your housecoats. Look at you now—wearing a wraparound.” She pointed at my denim dress. “This is seriously only a belt away from a housecoat.”
A giggle escaped my lips. Gabriella’s quick wit reminded me of myself at her age. Thought I knew it all at twenty-six. Thought getting old was the worst thing that could happen to a person, not realizing that the only way to escape getting old is to die young.
I gave her the index finger. “I cannot with you today. Gotta go get the child.”
She threw back her mass of curls and sighed. “Fine. I’ll keep my sarong on a hook.”
“Thank you. He won’t be any trouble,” I assured her. “Elijah—we call him EJ—is an only child. He knows how to keep himself entertained.”
“To someone like me, who grew up in a house full of people, that sounds really sad,” she remarked. She rinsed my bowl and spoon, then set them in the dishwasher.
“How many kids?”
“Only four kids. Me, my sister, my brother, and a cousin. But mi tia y mi tio, mi abuelita. I’m sorry. Aunt, uncle, grandmother.”
She slipped in and out of Spanish as easily as I did with Southern dialect.
“Must have been nice to always have someone around.”
“It was. And it’s nice to be here with you, too, Joyce,” Gabriella said. The way her eyes rolled to the left, she must have just come to the realization.
Her kind words surprised me. I hadn’t given much thought to Gabriella being my roommate beyond the simple inconvenience of the shared kitchen. But she was right. It was nice knowing there was someone else in the house. In case of emergency, if nothing else. “I’m glad to have you here as well.”
Before things got too sappy, I slung my purse over my shoulder, said goodbye, and headed out.
I thought about Gabriella’s words all the way there and wondered if, subconsciously, I had come up with the idea to make Grandma Jewel’s house into a duplex because I wanted or needed some form of companionship. Sharing. Love.
Then I remembered the math. Going from two incomes to sole breadwinner changes your perspective.
I barely recognized Elijah when he bounded through the gate. I was looking for a little boy, four or five inches shorter than the young man who came all the way up to my shoulders when I hugged him. “EJ! What is your momma feeding you?”
“Hi, Grandma!” He held on to me tight, and I forgot all my hesitations about keeping him for a few weeks. This boy was golden to me, looking like my son more than his father, with his curly locs, reddish-brown skin, and a small gap between his two front teeth.
“Everything go okay on the flight?”
“Yes, ma’am. I met the pilots!”
“Oooh! What did you think of them?”
“They were all right. They had a lot of equipment and monitors.”
“Sounds about right. You hungry?”
I wasn’t finished with the two-word question and he was nodding already. A cash register cha-chinged in my head when I thought about my grocery bill for the next few weeks.
After I texted my daughter to let her know her son had made it safely, we waited for his luggage at the rotating bin, where Elijah gave me more highlights from his flight alone.
He’d earned a pin with wings and a sticker for his bravery during the flight, and the attendant had given him an extra packet of pretzels because he’d asked so politely.
We grabbed his luggage and returned to my car. He hopped into the front seat, which surprised me for a moment. “You in the front seat now?”
“Grandma, I’m ten.”
“That you are, EJ,” I agreed.
We buckled up for the forty-five-mile drive from the Lubbock airport to Robin Creek. I had plenty of questions for him about school, teachers, friends, and church—which, I suppose, encompassed the entirety of his life.
He answered. He liked his teachers at the intermediate school, he had friends in every class, and he was a little sad about missing Vacation Bible School at church. “But I’m glad to be with you, Grandma. I miss you since…you know.” He fell silent and lowered his head.
The d-word, again, stumbling awkwardly into the conversation with my grandson.
“EJ, you know I still love you, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And I’m always going to be here for you. Any time you want to talk to me, just ask your mother.”
He jerked his head. “Could you get me a phone, Grandma? Two of my friends have phones already—Mike and Randall.”
He must have thought telling me their names would have more impact. “No, siree. A phone is a big responsibility. And a monthly bill.”
The spark left his eyes again. “My mom and dad don’t want me on their phones. All I have is a tablet.”
I thought, Poor thang. All he has is a minicomputer that cost several hundred dollars.
“And I can’t even use the tablet every day because of homework and stuff,” he continued to plead his case. “If I had a phone, I could call you anytime.”
What in the world? EJ had game? “I can’t override your parents’ decision that you shouldn’t have a phone right now.
Maybe you could use that tablet to make a presentation letting them know why you need one now that you’re ten.
But you must have valid reasons.” Just that quickly, I slipped into Grandma mode, scheming with this child to get what he wanted from his parents.
Mind you, if he were my child, the conversation would have ended abruptly and resolutely a long time ago.
Elijah asked, “What does ‘valid reason’ mean?”
“It means your reasons are important and true. Like, maybe you need a phone in order to communicate things with your parents. This summer is a perfect scenario. While you’re away, you might need to tell them something.
You might want to text them ‘I miss you’ or let them know that you’ve discovered a new cereal brand that you like. ”
He nodded. “Yeah. And then when I go to Grandpa’s house for the rest of the summer, I could call my mom and dad and even my friends, because it’s boring at Grandpa’s house.”
“Why would you be bored at Grandpa’s?” I asked. “You always have a great time at the house.”
“Not without you,” he stated with a bit of tweenage attitude. “It’s not the same.”
His declaration felt more like an accusation. I tried resurrecting every good memory I imagine he had with my ex-husband. “Really, EJ? You and Grandpa love going out back, setting up the tent, and eating lunch outside.”
“Because you pack the best food.”
“What about the time you two went skating? I sat on the benches and watched. Wasn’t it fun being out there with him?”
“Only because you were smiling and waving at us. Grandpa fussed the whole time.”