“They’re not for you, Ansley,” Hal said. “They’re for Grammy.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“Grammy,” Hal said, “we brought you nature’s very best pain reliever.”
“Oh, hogwash,” she said, wrapping her pashmina tighter around her shoulders. “If oxycodone isn’t killing the pain, I doubt some herb is going to.”
“It’s pot, Grammy,” Kimmy said, pulling the chairs from the dining table on the other side of the porch across from the couch and sitting down in one.
Mom cackled, deepening the expression lines in her face that had become more pronounced as she lost weight. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?”
“Count me out,” Sloane said. “What if we have to go to the emergency room in the middle of the night?”
“James fell asleep on the couch,” Caroline said. “He can be our emergency driver.”
I could see the smile playing on Sloane’s lips. I started to protest, but they weren’t children anymore. They could decide whether they wanted pot brownies.
We all took our seats in a circle around the side of the porch. I looked out over the low tide, taking in the sliver of crescent moon perched in the sky. Hal passed the brownies around and when they got to me, I kept passing them.
“Mom, come on,” Caroline said. “It’s just a little brownie. Loosen up.”
I shook my head. “What if it makes me paranoid or something?” I gasped. “What if it’s laced with something horrible and we all die?”
Kimmy’s turn to gasp. “Ansley Murphy, I am offended. I tended this beautiful bud every day of its life, and if you can’t respect its perfection, then you don’t deserve any.”
Hal and Kyle burst out laughing. “Simmer down, Kim,” Kyle said.
Jack squeezed my arm. “If you’re ever going to do it, now’s the time. You know where it came from, so you know it’s the best of the best.”
“Thank you,” Kimmy said, grinning at Jack. “Finally. Someone who understands me.”
“Yeah, Mom,” Emerson said. “Come on. Do something fun for once in your life.”
“Shock us, Mom,” Sloane said.
I couldn’t help but share a quick glance with Jack. No doubt about it, I could shock those girls if I wanted to.
“I am not eating pot brownies,” I said. “Not happening.”
“Oh, Ansley, just have a bite,” Mom said, chewing heartily, holding her huge pot brownie daintily in her manicured fingers.
I sighed and reached out my hand to Jack. The crowd cheered.
“All right, all right,” I said. “Simmer down, all of you.” Then, under my breath, I added, “Peer pressure is not just for kids.”
I ate mine very, very slowly, as I had rarely done any drugs, and even those were in the late ’70s.
After about twenty minutes, I saw my mother’s face relax. Really relax. She seemed more comfortable than she had in weeks. I leaned over toward Hal. “Keep the brownies coming,” I said.
“Oh, Ans, Kimmy and I have a whole kitchen full of amazing things for Grammy to try. We’re going to be ready when marijuana is legalized in Georgia.”
Jack burst out laughing, and then we all did, of course. If anyone had ever told me this would be happening, I wouldn’t have believed it. But, sometimes, when all seems lost, the last thing you would have imagined starts to seem normal, natural even. I wished I could freeze this moment, all our happy faces, all the people I loved most in the world sitting around my front porch, the flags blowing in the breeze, the lights from the sailboat masts in the harbor reflecting off the water.
“Grammy,” Caroline said, “we’re going to have the best party ever on the beach tomorrow. I mean, I can’t even tell you.”
“Oh, darling,” she said, “you can give me one of these brownies and tell me I’m at the beach and save yourself the trouble.”
That set us all off again. I felt calm and peaceful and happy. All the hard angles of life were gone and we were floating along on its soft, fluffy curves. There had been so much pain the last couple of months. So much uncertainty. So many tears shed, sleepless nights, new worry lines. I hoped beyond hope that when I looked back, I would forget all that. This was the night I wanted to remember.
TWENTY-THREE
love connections
sloane
June 27, 2010
Dear Sloane,
I never understood why, but I never felt at home in college. I was searching for a purpose, a passion, something that lit me up inside. I know it sounds crazy, but the day I signed those papers to join the Army, I felt whole. I felt complete. I knew I would never be fulfilled unless I was fighting for something bigger than me. It’s only now that I consider what this job really means in terms of what it is I’m giving up. Because being away from you feels like a punishment. Even still, I know this is where I’m supposed to be. Just like I know when I come home, in your arms is where I’m supposed to be. Meeting you, Sloane, loving you, has given me another purpose. And where, at one time, I lived for my country, now, my beautiful bride-to-be, I live for you.
All my love,
Adam
MARIJUANA SHOULD BE LEGALIZED for military spouses. It’s a fair concession. We have to spend years of our lives worrying about our partners—for the good of our country. We should get this in return.
I hated smoking of any sort. But eating brownies was fab-u- lous.
I peeked into the boys’ room. They were both still out cold. I don’t know what I did to deserve a twenty-one-month-old who slept until nine in the morning. Maybe it was restitution for the fact that AJ was such a terrible sleeper as a baby. I took a moment to gaze at them, the best parts of Adam and me. Clutching their stuffed animals, they
