I approached the DJ stand and a few minutes later the music faded and people retook their seats.
“Thanks everyone for coming tonight,” I began, uncomfortable at first with the microphone in my hand, my own voice booming through the tent, everyone’s eyes on me. I wasn’t used to being the center of attention. Not in this family.
I took a deep breath and continued. “As you know, we’re here tonight to celebrate one very special woman, Helen Hazel Manchester, my grandmother.”
Applause erupted around me and I smiled over at Gran, who looked moderately surprised to hear people clapping in her honor.
“Some of you have known my Gran for most of your lives,” I continued. “Tommy Dyson,” I turned to address a man much too old to still be going by the moniker Tommy. “You told me earlier tonight that Gran had been the principal of your elementary school, that you remembered being marched into her office, sure you’d be expelled for telling your teacher that spelling was for sissies and girls.”
Tommy nodded his head, a blush coloring his already ruddy cheeks even darker.
“And when you sat in front of her, Gran shook her head at you and asked you if you didn’t realize what the entire point of spelling was in the first place.”
The crowd shifted, waiting for the punch line.
“And what was it?” I asked him, walking over to lean the mic down so he could answer.
“She told me it was one of the best ways to make other people feel dumb and told me to start doing the crossword puzzle every morning. I guess she knew I was a little bit of a bully—not that I’m proud of that now,” he said. “But she was trying to give me some ammo and make me a smarter kid in the process.”
“Did it work?” I asked him.
“I finish the Times crossword every Sunday, and I bet I’d beat most folks in this tent in a spelling test. ‘Cept your gran, of course.” He stood up then and bowed deep. “Thanks for putting me on the right path, Principal Manchester.”
The crowd loved that and Gran’s little face wrinkled in an “aw shucks” smile before she batted her hands at everyone, embarrassed at the attention.
“Gran tries to pretend like she doesn’t care about people,” I said, scanning the crowd and purposely avoiding Ryan’s gaze. “She acts like she doesn’t really want to get involved in things, like she’d rather just keep to herself. But my Gran is one of the most perceptive and insightful human beings I’ve ever known.
“When our parents died when I was seven, I didn’t like Gran. She was herself—straight to the point and maybe a teeny bit abrasive. She’d been that way since I was tiny. And when Mom and Dad died and she put us in the back seat of her car and told us we’d be living with her, I was terrified. But I’ll never forget the way she turned around and looked at us sitting there scared. She stared at us for a couple minutes, remember Jules? And then she said something I’ll never forget. She said, ‘I’ll never be your mom or your dad, and I’ll never try to be. Your little hearts are broken right now, and I won’t pretend that’s going to get better. Your daddy was my baby, and my heart is broken, too. But I’ll tell you what we’re going to do, the three of us together. We are going to eat a lot of ice cream, play a whole bunch of Monopoly, and have as much fun as we possibly can. Because that’s what your folks would have wanted for you. And for me, too.”
I wiped at my eyes, wishing that memory didn’t always transport me back to my seven-year-old self, feeling so broken and sad there on that big bench seat next to my sister.
“And that’s what we’ve done,” I continued. “Gran became our parent, our confidant, our best friend, and our harshest critic. And I can’t imagine my life without her. Happy birthday, Gran. We’re so lucky to have you.”
“Let’s eat the cake before the angel of death comes for me, for God’s sake!” she called out. I swallowed my sentimental tears and laughed.
I nodded toward the catering staff, and they rolled out the cake Ryan had helped me make. I’d finished it when he’d disappeared earlier in the day to wherever it was he’d gone. It was a Black Forest cake, because that was Gran’s favorite. But it was in multiple tiers, and the entire thing was decorated with fondant armor and weapons and World of Warcraft characters I’d found on the Internet.
Gran’s face lit up at the sight of it and she clapped her hands together in front of her, standing to blow out the nine candles on top of the cake—one for each decade. The crowd broke into a round of Happy Birthday as the DJ played a track of birthday music over the speakers. I fitted the mic back into the stand at the front of the dance floor and went up to give Gran a hug. I’d done something right, at least, and happiness found a place next to all my sadness and confusion as I hugged her.
“Thank you, Tessy,” she said, her eyes shining up at me as I let her go.
My heart squeezed a little bit in my chest. “I love you, Gran,” I told her, kissing the top of her head.
I’d let myself get carried away, had become distracted with things that were completely outside my control, and had been ignoring the whole point of this weekend. Gran. My rock. My best friend. My family.
I should have been with her this weekend, and instead, I’d let myself become wrapped up in the trappings of celebrity life. I had allowed myself to fall so easily into the bright lights and promises that went anywhere a certain hot celebrity couple went. And now, as I smiled at
