She cries out with her sweet southern drawl, sliding her frail arm through his muscular one, “Wyatt honey, I thought you might not make it tonight!”
“Did Diana tell you we were on a chase?”
May looks at me with instant reproach. “No, she did not!”
I explain, “I didn’t want to worry you,” placing her floral cushions on the red recliner.
He guides her onto them as she informs him, “Diana told me you don’t like Christmas movies. That was the excuse she gave for you.”
“I don’t,” Wyatt laughs, “Give me some tissues and let’s get this over with!”
May chuckles before waving hello to Alice as she approaches us with a snail’s pace. “My great-grandson is here again!”
“I see that,” smiles her friend as she chooses the recliner on May’s right.
I leave them to help other residents into chairs suited for comfy movie-watching. Wyatt’s eyes are on me. Nobody has to tell me and I don’t have to look. My instincts are tuned to everything he does.
We’ve been dating for a month and my body is going nuts with pheromone and chemistry overload. He can just look at me and I get hot. Like right now. I am pulsing and there’s nothing I can do about it.
The most stubborn person I’ve ever met is Wyatt Cocker.
He decided to take things slow and here we are spending our Friday night at my Senior Living Facility to watch an old Bing Crosby movie, Holiday Inn, even though it’s almost July.
May has been thrilled with his company. He’s made three of four showings in the last month.
After our first-date debacle I bowed out of one the following night, saying I was busy. He didn’t press it.
But the next week…
“Wait, you shot me down last Friday and now you can’t got out with me on this one, either?”
“I have plans, Wyatt.”
“What kind of plans?”
“I’m seeing a movie.”
“You have a date?”
“Yes.”
“With who!?”
He sounded furious, which was amazing. And so fun.
“With about forty-five senior citizens. I hope you don’t mind.”
There was a beat of silence, then his laugh nearly made me drop my phone. “Oh! Nice. I get it. You’re working!”
“Yes,” I grinned, explaining with a simple, “Movie night.”
“I’m coming.”
The grin slid into my heart. “Really?”
“What time? Do they have popcorn?”
“Um, no. Some teeth can’t handle kernels anymore so we don’t offer any. It saves us from hurt feelings and potential eating issues. We do have cupcakes, decaf herbal teas, juices, and water, though.”
“Can I bring anything?”
“If you want a beer, bring one.”
He laughed, “No way am I bringing a beer to Grams’ movie night.”
Standing behind the projector to connect correct cords, I glance to where he’s kneeling in front of his great-grandmother, gesturing as he shares a cop-story with her.
She loves these.
I always hear the recount.
As the last person gets settled I call out, “Ready everybody?”
Their applause is as enthusiastic as they ever are. Everyone loves Bing.
I announce, “Without further ado, Holiday Inn!”
Excited whispering spreads throughout the room, and Elmo, one of our oldest residents, raises his hand. I hurry to assist him into his wheelchair, and wheel him to the bathroom. The movie will start without us, and Wyatt throws me a wink as we go.
It’s ten minutes in by the time I get Elmo comfortable again, and hurry over to join the fun. Unlike Wyatt, I love these old movies.
We’re in the recliners to May’s left, with him closest to her.
He reaches over and I place my hand in his, our fingers folding together and his so much bigger than mine. We lock eyes, black and white images illuminating his handsome face.
He tugs me close to whisper in my ear, “Almost thought I wasn’t going to make it.”
“That bad?”
“Not going to tell Grams that, but yeah. One of our own got shot. Came through his windshield when we were in pursuit.”
My eyes widen. “Is he okay?”
Wyatt nods, “Got his shoulder. He spun out. Crashed. Not fatal. Pretty exciting stuff.” Sitting back, Wyatt focuses on the classic as I stare at his profile.
Exciting?
It could have been him.
Shuddering, I face the screen and let the story’s charm sweep reality and worry away from me.
Wyatt and I are walking May back, her arm through his, our steps slow. “Wyatt did you know that I see a lot of my Jerald in you?”
“Really, Grams? I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Your looks.”
He laughs, “Not my personality?”
“Some.”
I laugh this time, and Wyatt feigns being insulted. “I hate to ask you which parts.”
“You walk like he did.”
“Isn’t that still my looks?”
“No, that walk comes from the inside.” Wyatt and I exchange a glance, because she means both men didn’t lack in confidence. I almost say something snarky but I don’t want to cut her off as she continues, “He walked like he owned the world, and he had the same sparkle in his eyes that you have. That also comes from inside.”
“I’m guessing Caden resembles Great-Grandpa Jerald, too?”
May nods, “Yes, very much.”
Wyatt explains to me, “I look more like my cousin Caden than I do my own brothers.”
“It’s true!” She pats his arm, resting her hand on it so that both hold onto him now.
“Do you like living here, Grams?”
“Very much.”
“Why?”
“I get to be around people my own age. Diana plans activities for us. The food is made by someone else, cleaned by someone else. It’s like being on a cruise on land.”
He makes an approving face. “Can’t see anything wrong with that.”
I open the door to her room as she tells him, “I was the one who told Michael to find me a nice home. Nancy said it wouldn’t be a burden to have me stay with them, but I would’ve been bored.”
Wyatt laughs louder than that statement should warrant. We both look at him for a reason. “He said the same thing — retirement bores him. He’s having fun with the ducks now though.”
She smiles, walking to her bed. “He loves those ducks.”
My eyebrows wrinkle
