For Always (7 page)

I just looked at him. Really looked at him for the first time. I never noticed he had blue eyes before. A sucker for blue eyes, I took a closer look. He was tall. And actually pretty cute. The only problem, he wasn’t Jordan. He didn’t make my heart throb and race, like a forbidden delight.

The bus pulled up and people started moving forward, pushing their way past each other to get a seat. I hated standing, holding on to the silver pole, but I found myself toward the end of the pack. My chance of getting a seat didn’t look too good.

“So Lisa is supposed to be saving a couple of seats for us, if you’re not too frightened to come in the back with us,” he challenged.

I hesitated wondering how he knew they scared me. I didn’t like people being able to read me, especially negative things about me. Still uneasy about this group, I thought I had nothing to lose.

“Well, sure. If there’s a seat, I mean.”

“If not, you could always sit on my lap.”

He took my hand and led me straight to the back of the bus.

After cooking, cleaning, and scrubbing until I couldn’t move my fingers, my grandparents arrived, late Wednesday evening. We spent a few hours catching up. They told us all about their condo on the golf course, the wonderful community they lived in, and the many activities they’d become involved in since they moved. Around midnight we made certain they were comfortable and said goodnight.

My mother and I cooked most of the food earlier in the week. The turkey was the only dish that had to be prepared from scratch. The rest only needed to be heated.

Dinner went well. The only dig Grandma threw in was how in all the years my parents were married, my mother never put together such a plentiful spread of food. I could tell this comment didn’t go over well with my mother. But she handled it like a trooper. She thanked my grandmother, smiled and poured herself another glass of wine.

The atmosphere after dinner was unexpected. I never knew my grandmother to be sentimental. Mostly she reminded me of a jail warden more than a warm-and-fuzzy-cookie-baking grandparent. She sent Grandpa to go get “them.”

After a quick trip to the car, he reappeared with two large gift bags. Mother and I looked at each other surprised. We both had summer birthdays, and my grandmother never forgot to send a card. Christmas was still a month away; we hadn’t even begun shopping. We had nothing to give in return. That would never go over well.

Grandma pulled a large scrapbook from each bag and handed one to each of us. The second I opened mine, I was overcome with a surge of emotions. Pictures from the day I was born, my father holding me. He looked so handsome and happy. The tears came pouring out.

I traced my fingers over the images of my father. I missed him. Like missing eyes, I could live without him, but I did so impaired. Limericks he wrote on small pieces of paper were interspersed on the pages. I kept turning the pages, taking my time to examine each picture and remember each detail, and how happy we were all together. I read every caption. And commented on every wonderful piece she added to the book.

So engrossed in my beautiful gift, I didn’t pay attention to what was in my mother’s book. Hers recaptured their years together, from their early dating until death did they part.

My grandparents sat beaming at our reaction, commenting on specific pictures or items. My grandfather went into a dissertation on how his life hadn’t been the same since Grandma started working on the scrapbooks, because they were her top priority. Grandma giggled, like a young girl.

This was the most wonderful evening we shared since my father died, if not ever. I couldn’t help thinking how perfect this night felt, like it was straight out of a holiday movie. Neither my mother nor I anticipated the overabundance of love and warmth that filled our house and hearts this wonderful Thanksgiving.

Nine

Grandma wanted to have a nice brunch Friday. She cooked all morning, making waffles and pancakes, using fresh berries to make jam toppings. The scent of bacon crisping wafted through the house, waking me. I thought this must be how people are woken at those quaint, little bed and breakfast type places.

We were all tired from the emotional overhaul the previous evening. And took our time gathering together around the table and eating the scrumptious meal Grandma prepared. It was wonderful having her with us. I wished she could stay forever.

Both grandparents told stories about my father as a young boy. I enjoyed listening to these fresh antics, very different from my own memories of him, or Mom’s that I’d heard a million times. Hearing the trouble he got into as a teenager, breaking widows with baseballs for example, made me feel a new connection with him, like adding a link to a chain. With the new knowledge of how often he broke things in the house, I wondered if he’d been awkward and clumsy like me.

After we cleared the kitchen table, cleaned and put away the dishes, we sat around and played cards. Grandpa dealt and won almost every hand of Rummy, Poker, and Twenty-one that we played.

Grandma accused him of cheating, and they went on to bicker in the fun-loving manner that defined them as a couple. I looked between them and found it amazing, after all these years, I could still see the love and admiration they had for each other in their eyes. As a young child I didn’t understand their constant quarreling. I thought they hated each other.

Maria came over later in the afternoon and joined in the fun. I showed her the amazing scrapbook my grandmother made while Mom and Grandma sat down to share a cup of coffee in the kitchen. Claiming to miss the hustle and bustle of the city, Grandpa went for a walk.

Maria and I decided to play a board game. I went to ask my grandmother to join in, but paused just outside the door jamb. Mom stood by the sink, her hands covering her face, her shoulders slumped. Grandma stood next to my mother, her hands on Mom’s shoulders, and I could tell by the intense look on Grandma’s face, she was speaking in her tough, determined manner.

I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I knew Grandma was being kind, rubbing Mom’s back, making assurances. I backed up, figuring the conversation had to do with my father and how much my mother missed him. She tried hard not to show her pain when it was just the two of us. But I noticed how her eyes watered when she thought of him.

Tears stung my eyes. My throat closed. I wished I could disappear. I didn’t want them to know I saw any of the brief exchange of sorrow and solace. Making it worse, was the knowledge it was my fault. I was the root cause of the great pain and suffering for us all.

After dinner, I curled up on the couch with my book. I wasn’t really into it, but I wanted to be alone, which would’ve been rude and deeply regretted once my grandparents left. I didn’t think anyone noticed I hadn’t said much during dinner. Reading, or pretending to, allowed me to wallow in self-loathing, while at the same time not being impolite.

Around seven thirty, the doorbell rang. The noise startled us. We weren’t expecting anyone. Maria didn’t plan on coming back, because her parents didn’t want her to intrude on us too much. So I had absolutely no idea who it could possibly be.

After a minute Mom came back inside and spoke to me.

“Stephanie, there’s a boy outside looking for you.”

My jaw dropped, my heart leaped.

“A boy?” I asked in disbelief.

She nodded.

A boy. Could it be? Who else would it be? Maybe he changed his mind? Maybe he realized he couldn’t live without me! I took a deep breath, realizing I was setting myself up for a major fall. What if he regretted not looking for me at school and wanted to give me the whole friends speil now?

I ran my fingers through my hair, certain I looked more like Medusa than me. “Oh no.”

“Were you expecting him?” Mom asked, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

I shook my head, “I had no idea. Do I look alright?” I asked terrified of walking out the door.

“You look beautiful, Dear,” Grandma chimed in.

Not certain I believed her, I looked back at my mother, she nodded. I grabbed my jacket and threw it on, thrilled I was about to walk through the door and see Jordan. Like he knew I needed to see him, to talk to him.

“Not too long!” Mom shouted from behind me.

I floated all the way to the door, excitement building inside me, like boiling water. I felt a smile spread across my face as I pulled the door open.

“Hi.”

I swallowed hard, trying desperately not to show how utterly disappointed I felt.

“Chris. What are you doing here?” I asked astonished.

How the hell did he know where I lived? I felt a little chill and pulled my jacket tighter around me.

“Sorry. I hoped to find you sooner.” Was he kidding? “It took me a while to track you down.”

Okay, this was weird. Was he a stalker?

“I’m not sure what to say, this is a surprise.”

He grinned as if he read my thoughts. “I don’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t.” I snapped back.

“You’re a bad liar.” He stared into my eyes. “But a beautiful one.”

I took a small step back and dropped my eyes from his. It didn’t matter how blue his eyes were or how cute he may be, this guy was giving me a major case of the creeps.

“I didn’t follow you home or break into school records, or anything crazy like that. I just asked around a little if any of my friends knew anything about you.”

“Why?” It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

He looked down at the ground and I thought I noticed a little color in his cheeks, but it was hard to tell in the dark.

“I had fun with you on the bus ride the other day. And I’d like to get to know you better.” He paused. “I wanted to know if you’d like to go out with me.”

“I can’t. My grandparents are here from out of town.” I answered without a second thought.

He nodded. “How about next Friday night?”

“I don’t know.” Why was I even playing along with this? I should’ve just told him I wasn’t interested and said goodnight. “I have to ask my mother.”

“That’s cool. Either way I’ll see you Monday, right?”

I narrowed my eyes a minute trying to catch on.

“On the bus.”

I nodded. “Yep. On the bus.”

“Okay. I really hope your mom says yes.” He gave a quick smile and turned to leave.

He walked down the steps, turned, waved and started walking.

I expected my mother to be standing at the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the strange boy calling on her daughter. She wasn’t. Shocking. They were all seated at the kitchen table indulging in apple and pumpkin pies. Definitely weird.

I got back on the couch and picked up my book. I still didn’t understand how Chris found out where I lived. I didn’t know if I should feel flattered or frightened.

“Someone special?” Grandma sat beside me.

I looked up from my book and shook my head adamantly. “No. Not at all.”

Grandma looked at me skeptically, “You should’ve seen how you lit up when your mother told you he was out there. You looked pretty crazy about him.”

I put my book down. I spoke in a soft voice because I didn’t want Mom to know. I wasn’t exactly sure how she would feel about the whole age thing with Jordan.

“I thought it was someone else.”

I could see from her raised eyebrows and sly smile I piqued her interest. Grandma reached over and pulled my foot onto her lap and started rubbing it.

“Tell me all about him.”

The idea appealed to me. My foot massage felt wonderful. I felt the tension in my body ease and thought I’d agree to anything right about now. Where was this lady my whole life?

“Well, that was Chris. I don’t really know him at all. I don’t even know if I like him. But he asked around and found out where I live. Isn’t that weird?”

Grandma nodded. “Very. But I meant the other boy. The one you’re interested in.”

I felt my face fill with color. I thought I’d glaze over how we met and all the little things he did that made me think he liked me. But once I got started I went on and on. I described every detail I could, all except what prompted our walk home.

Grandma listened. Really listened. She didn’t even look judgmental. I felt so comfortable telling her about Jordan, I even slipped with his age. I thought she’d freak, but she took it amazingly well.

“Give him some time.” She advised. “Your age has him concerned because he respects you.”