“Open up! Police!” A muffled shout from outside.
“It looks like they’re here again.” Grandma shrugged as if it was a typical weeknight.
This was it.
I had to confess.
I had to tell her my side of the story before she’d never speak to me again. “Grandma, I shot a man with the gun. He attacked me. I protected myself, like you said.”
With a loud bang, the police busted down the door. Five officers raced in, guns leveled straight at me. Two of them holstered their guns and grabbed my arms, handcuffing my hands behind me. My knees gave in and I collapsed, but they held me up as they dragged me toward the door.
And Grandma watched, shaking her head in disappointment.
“Grandma,” I barely choked out, tears falling down my cheeks.
With a bright flash of light, I was back on the couch with Grandma as she stared at me with a different kind of disappointment. It was the kind where her expression screamed that she had disappointed me.
“I had no idea you’d take it this hard.” Grandma’s voice was barely above a whisper.
I shook my head to rid myself of the imagined nightmare and tried to focus on what she was saying to me. “Take what hard . . . ? I’m sorry, what?”
“Jeraline, are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’re going to pass out, and you’re sitting down.”
“I am feeling a bit dizzy.” Everything was falling apart, but I needed to know why Grandma kept staring at me as if I had kidnapped her puppy. Taking a few deep breaths, more for show than for actual help, I focused on her and her only. “Now what did you say?”
Grandma reached over and held my hands in hers. “I said I’m moving in with Buster.”
A bomb might as well have exploded in my face. “What!”
“Buster. We’re going to move in together at his house. I’m moving my stuff over there tomorrow.”
I no longer felt faint.
I was livid.
“Tomorrow? That’s insane! You’ve been on one date! You just met him!”
Tightening her grip on my hands, Grandma continued as if I hadn’t yelled at her for losing her mind. “I don’t have very many things. I’m leaving all the furniture and everything else here for you.”
She wasn’t listening.
She couldn’t hear me.
She didn’t want to hear me.
But I had to make her see that what she was doing was dangerous. It was worse than that. It was . . . I didn’t know what, but it was bad. “You’re completely rushing into this. Do you even really know Buster all that well?”
At least she addressed this, but not to my liking. “Roberta and Claire have known Buster for twenty years. He’s a good man, Jeraline. And besides, you know your parents got engaged the first day they met and moved in together two weeks later.”
I was a cornered animal, feral and needing to lash out. “At least they waited two weeks!” Yeah, I knew that was a failed argument, so I yelled, “This is absurd! It’s crazy! It’s reckless!”
Grandma laughed, momentarily breaking my tirade, her laughter had that effect on me, though a part of me wanted to hold on to all my terror and rage. Pulling my hands up to her face, she kissed them with affection. “You’re probably right, but I’m trying to take my own advice and live life to the fullest. I can’t be scared anymore. And I know it’s quick, but when you know, you know.”
Brain freeze.
Body freeze.
Grandma pulled me into a hug.
I cracked.
My mind cracked.
And all I could do was stay in Grandma’s arms, holding her tightly—maybe then she’d stay.
“I love you more than life itself, you know that, right?” she whispered in my ear.
Tears fell freely down my face as I nodded into Grandma’s shoulder. “I love you, too, Grandma.”
I needed to let go.
I needed to let her have this.
I couldn’t be the reason she stopped living her life.
Pulling back, I stood, separating from her completely. I managed a smile. “I really am happy for you, Grandma. I just need to process this.”
She answered, “Of course. I understand completely.” Grandma couldn’t hide the sadness from her face at my reaction. I couldn’t let her feel that way. I needed to make it right even if I didn’t feel it was right.
I just didn’t know how.
So, I did what I always did in tough situations. I changed the subject.
Leaning down, I kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to work on my dress. The runway show is on Thursday.”
Grandma didn’t skip a beat. She reached up and squeezed my hand. “Okay, sweetie. I have a good feeling about it.” Then she made sure our eyes met. “And Jeraline? It’s time for you to be happy too.”
Happy?
It seemed like such a dream, I wasn’t sure it was possible.
I was losing the only support I had in the world right when it was falling apart.
But I refused to let her see that, so I nodded, kissed her cheek and walked to my room.
Maybe sewing would help fill this growing hole in the pit of my stomach.
I should turn myself in.
I should turn myself in.
I should turn myself in.
Grandma didn’t need me anymore. She was leaving me. Maybe jail would be better?
As I gently closed my bedroom door the rest of the way, I came face-to-face with my fold-out table. It still had paper strewn on its surface with a few pattern pieces already cut out. I was way behind. I had tonight and tomorrow to make a dress good enough to win a scholarship to the school of my dreams.
I wanted it to be beautiful.
Which was kind of hard right now because I was sinking into a mud pit of despair.
Focus.
It was obvious I wasn’t about to turn myself in. Whether that was from terror or denial I hadn’t sorted through yet.
So yeah.
Dress.
Focus.
Focus.
I couldn’t focus.
I was about to lose everything.
Focus.
Grabbing the tape measure, I went on autopilot, drawing lines, roughing out the bodice pieces, then cutting them out. I wanted the
