“Thank you very much. That’s really nice of you,” I said, which caused Grandma to beam like human sunshine.
Buster held out his arm, and Grandma took it just like in the movies. My cheeks hurt from grinning at their cuteness as I took a few steps back and watched them talk privately. If I hadn’t known they had met only a couple of days ago, I would have thought they’d been together for decades.
A perfect match.
The night air hit my face with a bite of coldness that was glorious. I hadn’t realized how stuffy it had been inside the bingo warehouse. The crowd dispersed into cars, loading wheelchairs and walkers inside.
Arriving at Buster’s sedan, I sat in the back while Buster opened the passenger door for my grandmother. From the slight crinkle in his eyebrows, I could tell he had been a little disappointed that I hadn’t let him open my car door, but I wanted to give them as much time alone as possible.
He started the car, and we were off.
And three minutes later . . .
“Right here will be fine, thanks.” I told him it wasn’t far.
Buster stopped the car with a small chuckle, realizing how close we had really been. I wanted to give them their “good night” moment, so I exited the car quickly.
Once outside the car, I realized Grandma had the keys.
Yup. I was locked out.
Oh man. I’d have to wait outside the car like a jerk.
Maybe they won’t see me, I thought as I shifted closer to the door of our building. But wasn’t the rule: if I can see you, you can see me? Because they were parked in front of me as if I were watching a drive-in movie. I wanted to give them privacy, but I also wanted to stare.
My creepy side won out, though to be fair, I only looked out of the side of my eye. It wasn’t direct stareage.
Grandma reached over and kissed Buster!
My mouth dropped.
Grams!
Buster turned off the car and exited, hurrying to Grandma’s door, opening it for her. Using Buster’s hand as support (not that she really needed it), Grandma allowed him to help her out of the car.
Leaning down, Buster kissed her once more, and my own heart skipped a beat at the sight. This was intense.
“Good night, Anna. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Buster kissed her one more time.
“I can’t wait,” Grandma said when they parted.
Buster walked to the driver’s side of the car and waved to me. “Night, Jeraline.”
“Night.” I waved, being the awkward Peeping Tom that I was.
With a honk of his horn, Buster was off and down the street.
Grandma hurried over to me with a huge grin.
“Grandma! That was . . . that was amazing!” I was in total awe.
She unlocked the building door, and we walked up the stairs to our apartment. “It felt amazing. I was so nervous and terrified, but I went for it.” We entered the apartment, and Grandma turned to me, serious. “Okay. I stepped way out of my comfort zone. Now it’s your turn. That boy you have a picture of by your bedside? Your assignment is to have one real conversation with him that doesn’t involve work. Deal?”
Wait. How did this come around to me? That wasn’t fair.
“Grandma, I’m not as brave as you . . .” I practically swallowed my tongue I swallowed so hard.
“Deal?” She had serious-face.
I sighed. “Fine. Deal. But you never said anything about how long the conversation has to be.” I had the need to exploit sneaky loopholes at the moment.
“That’s fine. Baby steps.”
“Kissing a stranger is way bigger than a baby step. You are my hero.”
Grandma leaned in to me and gave me a loving squeeze. “I’m old, Jeraline. I have to do everything fast. No one knows how much time we have left. I have to grab it while I can.”
“Well, that’s both inspiring and depressing. Can we not talk about how much time we have left? Hopefully, I can tap into your bravery tomorrow though, because right now I feel like puking.”
Grandma laughed. “You’ll be fine. Tomorrow’s a big day for both of us. You’re talking to a boy you like, and I’ve got a date.”
I leaned down and kissed Grandma on the cheek. “This night has been insane. I’m going to sew a bit to calm my nerves. Is that going to bother you?”
“Never. It makes my heart sing when I hear your machine going. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.” Grandma picked up the box with the gun in it and handed it to me. “Keep this with you and think about what I said.”
I looked down at the box.
I didn’t argue.
“Good night, Grandma.”
“Good night, Jeraline.”
Without another word, I walked into my room, shut the door, and placed the box with the gun under the bed.
Out of sight, out of mind.
I had too many conflicting thoughts racing around my head about the whole topic anyway. I was shocked that I wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. My parents being murdered by a lone gunman kept my brain in full “I hate guns” mode, but I could see the other side of it too when Grandma had looked at me with terrified eyes. Terrified that I could die if I didn’t have some kind of weapon to protect me.
Maybe I should learn some kind of martial art instead? Or carry mace in my backpack? Or . . . anything but a gun. I wasn’t ready. Not yet.
Walking over to my desk, I sat down in front of the sewing machine and picked up my sketchbook, which was on the page of the dress I had dreamt about. I was pretty sure I had enough of the fabric I wanted, but I needed to check the closet.
Sliding the closet doors open to one side, I took in my floor-to-ceiling shelving unit of uncut fabric, with the middle shelf dedicated to sewing notions. I swear I owned more thread, zippers, snaps, hook-and-eyes, elastic, buttons,
