dang mother thinks she’s clever. Blocked all my soaps with that damn parental control garbage on the television. I guess she didn’t think her old bag of a mother was resourceful enough to navigate the cyberweb.”
“You mean the internet?”
“Um, that’s what I just said, NeeNee. Jesus, keep up. You’d think you were the one who was hard of hearing.”
“Please, for the love of all that’s holy, stop calling me NeeNee,” I pleaded.
Looking at her mess once more, I couldn’t hold my tongue. “And have you looked around yourself at all? How in the bajeebus are you this big of a slob?”
Glancing down around her, she surveyed the mess I was referring to.
And then shrugged.
“I’m going to have to wash all of my bedding before I can sleep tonight!”
“You really need to loosen the screws on that stick up your ass, girl. Sit down, eat some salsa. Tell your Gram what really has you in this mood.”
“You have me in this mood!” I argued, trying as hard as I could to stop the unwanted flow of emotion. “I was worried about you when I got here because you didn’t answer me for, like, forever!”
I spoke in half truths. She had worried me. But it was everything else going on that led me to the very worst conclusion when I couldn’t find her.
Tears broke free at the corners of my eyes regardless of my efforts to stop them. I wiped furiously with shaking hands to rid my cheeks of the evidence, but not before Gram noticed.
“Come here,” she whispered more gently, moving the salsa and chips to my nightstand and making room for me to cuddle under the crook of her arm. Her eyes were soft, and I didn’t hesitate to crawl into the space she created.
“Everything is so messed up,” I murmured once I was settled. Gram’s arms wrapped around me tighter, embracing me much in the way Blane had Franny.
The comparison in my mind only made me cry harder.
“It seems like it won’t end, like nothing will ever be the same. No one will ever be happy again.”
Settling her delicate palm onto my head just above my ear, Gram took a deep breath. The sound of her still playing Soap Opera rumbled softly from my headphones in the background.
“Well, baby. Nothing ever will be the same. Some things have happened that we can’t change. And these events affect a change in people whether we want them to or not. But you have to remember that just because things can’t ever be the same, does not mean that they can’t ever be good again.”
“I don’t know how to make any of it good again, Gram. Tell me how to make it good again.”
“Oh, my sweet girl. You can’t. Only time can.”
I clawed manically at the tracks of wet trailing down my face, eager to erase their existence and quiet my screaming heart in equal measure.
“Shh,” Gram comforted. “Let them flow, Whitney. Their presence may feel heavy, but the release those tears create will lighten your load.”
Forcing my hands away, I followed her direction. I cried, and I did so without inhibition.
And I did so for quite some time.
Seconds turned into minutes, and those minutes filled up an hour. Bless the woman, she sat still through it all.
And much as Gram had suggested, it started to feel good. Cathartic.
Necessary.
When the sobs subsided and normal oxygen flow once again passed through my lungs, Gram spoke again.
“No bottle is big enough for human emotion. Love, hate, anger, happiness, and deep melancholy. Each one exists for a reason. Emotion is real . It’s meant to be released. It’s meant to be lived .”
Her words rang soundly in the silence.
“I love him, Gram.”
“I know.”
“I love her too.”
“I know, Whitney.”
Pulling myself from the warmth of her body, I replaced it by holding her sincere eyes with my own and soaking up their compassion.
“And I love you.”
A smile just barely ghosted her lips.
“If you only knew.”
I knew. And I loved all of them more.
BY THE END OF OCTOBER, Gram had become my only
“You mean the internet?”
“Um, that’s what I just said, NeeNee. Jesus, keep up. You’d think you were the one who was hard of hearing.”
“Please, for the love of all that’s holy, stop calling me NeeNee,” I pleaded.
Looking at her mess once more, I couldn’t hold my tongue. “And have you looked around yourself at all? How in the bajeebus are you this big of a slob?”
Glancing down around her, she surveyed the mess I was referring to.
And then shrugged.
“I’m going to have to wash all of my bedding before I can sleep tonight!”
“You really need to loosen the screws on that stick up your ass, girl. Sit down, eat some salsa. Tell your Gram what really has you in this mood.”
“You have me in this mood!” I argued, trying as hard as I could to stop the unwanted flow of emotion. “I was worried about you when I got here because you didn’t answer me for, like, forever!”
I spoke in half truths. She had worried me. But it was everything else going on that led me to the very worst conclusion when I couldn’t find her.
Tears broke free at the corners of my eyes regardless of my efforts to stop them. I wiped furiously with shaking hands to rid my cheeks of the evidence, but not before Gram noticed.
“Come here,” she whispered more gently, moving the salsa and chips to my nightstand and making room for me to cuddle under the crook of her arm. Her eyes were soft, and I didn’t hesitate to crawl into the space she created.
“Everything is so messed up,” I murmured once I was settled. Gram’s arms wrapped around me tighter, embracing me much in the way Blane had Franny.
The comparison in my mind only made me cry harder.
“It seems like it won’t end, like nothing will ever be the same. No one will ever be happy again.”
Settling her delicate palm onto my head just above my ear, Gram took a deep breath. The sound of her still playing Soap Opera rumbled softly from my headphones in the background.
“Well, baby. Nothing ever will be the same. Some things have happened that we can’t change. And these events affect a change in people whether we want them to or not. But you have to remember that just because things can’t ever be the same, does not mean that they can’t ever be good again.”
“I don’t know how to make any of it good again, Gram. Tell me how to make it good again.”
“Oh, my sweet girl. You can’t. Only time can.”
I clawed manically at the tracks of wet trailing down my face, eager to erase their existence and quiet my screaming heart in equal measure.
“Shh,” Gram comforted. “Let them flow, Whitney. Their presence may feel heavy, but the release those tears create will lighten your load.”
Forcing my hands away, I followed her direction. I cried, and I did so without inhibition.
And I did so for quite some time.
Seconds turned into minutes, and those minutes filled up an hour. Bless the woman, she sat still through it all.
And much as Gram had suggested, it started to feel good. Cathartic.
Necessary.
When the sobs subsided and normal oxygen flow once again passed through my lungs, Gram spoke again.
“No bottle is big enough for human emotion. Love, hate, anger, happiness, and deep melancholy. Each one exists for a reason. Emotion is real . It’s meant to be released. It’s meant to be lived .”
Her words rang soundly in the silence.
“I love him, Gram.”
“I know.”
“I love her too.”
“I know, Whitney.”
Pulling myself from the warmth of her body, I replaced it by holding her sincere eyes with my own and soaking up their compassion.
“And I love you.”
A smile just barely ghosted her lips.
“If you only knew.”
I knew. And I loved all of them more.
BY THE END OF OCTOBER, Gram had become my only
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