Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I took the handle of the bag, along with her hand, and used it to yank her closer to me. “That’s good. Because this was our first date. See you Friday, Ireland.”
***
“I don’t want the alarm connected to the police station. I don’t like guns in the house.”
The installer looked at me, and I motioned for him to keep working as I guided Grams into the kitchen to talk. “Grams, if the alarm goes off and you don’t hear it, they’ll know to go looking for Pops. I registered him with the police department, so they’ll understand that it’s more than likely a missing person and not a break-in they need to show up for with guns blazing.”
She sat down. “I’m capable of taking care of him.”
The worse Pops got, the harder things grew for her, too. She felt disabled herself for needing any help with her husband of fifty years.
I sat across from her and covered her hand with mine. An older, independent couple didn’t view taking help much differently than a foster kid might—they didn’t want to rely on anyone but themselves. Logical arguments don’t work, because what they’re fighting is emotional and not practical. So just like with Leo, I knew the best thing to do wasn’t reason with my grandmother. She needed her emotions validated.
“I get that you don’t need any help, Grams. You could handle him all on your own. But I want to help. If Mom were still here, she’d be moved in and sleeping on your bedroom floor to make sure Pops didn’t wander off and get hurt. Letting me help Pops is for Mom and me. Not because you can’t do it yourself.”
Grams’s eyes watered. I’d broken out the big guns mentioning Mom, but it was the truth, and we needed to get past her unwillingness. Unfortunately, things weren’t going to be improving.
She squeezed my hand and nodded. “Fine. But if I’m taking your help, there’re some other things I could use a hand with.”
“Name it.”
Leo busted into the kitchen, and Pops followed behind. “Look at this thing Pops made. It’s an electric chair!”
Great. More shit I’d have to explain to Leo’s social worker at some point. In his retirement, my grandfather had taken up building replica miniature houses. All of his years as a wooden boat builder had come in handy, and he’d spent the first two years of being home building an exact miniature replica of his and Grams’s house, down to the bathroom fixtures and chipped bluestone in the yard. Leo and I visited Grams and Pops a lot, and he’d tried to get Leo interested in his little hobby. But being a typical eleven year old, Leo thought making a dollhouse was boring. That is, until Pops started to work on a creepy dollhouse. The entire thing was a freak show of weird shit. But Pops and Leo had built every little bit of that freak show, and Leo had gotten pretty good with woodworking.
I took the miniature electric chair from Leo’s hands and checked it out. The details were pretty amazing, down to the tiny black leather wrist straps on the arms of the chair and what looked like a few drops of blood stained on the seat.
“It’s great. But do me a favor and don’t bring it home to your foster mom. She already suspects I might be a devil worshiper after you brought home that creepy miniature doll so you could work on mangling it.”
“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
Grams got up. “What can I make you to eat, Leo? How about a peanut butter and banana sandwich for a snack?”
He grinned. “With no crust?”
Grams walked to the bread drawer and opened it. “People who eat crust can’t be trusted.”
Leo took a seat on a stool at the granite kitchen bar and propped his feet up on the one next to him.
I knocked them off. “Feet off the furniture.”
Pops said he was going to go take a nap, so I told him I’d tag along to check on the ceiling fan Grams had said wasn’t working.
When I came back to the kitchen a few minutes later, Grams and Leo were laughing. “What’s so funny?”
“You. In a Santa suit.” Leo chuckled.
I swiped a piece of his peanut butter and banana sandwich from his plate and shoved it into my mouth. “What are you talking about?”
Grams answered. “Earlier, when we were talking about how you like to help, you said you’d do anything I needed, right?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah. But why does the way you’re asking me now feel like a trick question?”
Leo laughed. “Because she’s gonna sucker you into playing Santa this weekend, instead of Pops.”
I pointed a finger at Leo. “Watch your language.”
“What did I say? Sucker? That’s not even a bad word. I’ve heard you say way worse.”