out there; a couch, a small television and a beer fridge. Mom doesn’t allow smoking in the house. She’s a reformed smoker and is constantly on Dad’s case about quitting. I don’t blame her. He smells like an ashtray.
“ Good morning,” he says brightly when I enter the kitchen.
He’s got a few days’ growth of stubble and his hair stands stiffly on end; too much gel and hairspray. I cringe at the thought of how many other dads use more hair products than their daughters. Two large hoop earrings adorn his lobes and he’s wearing a True Religion shirt and jeans with holes in them. He paid extra for the holes I think.
“ Hey, Dad. Mom still asleep?” I pull a bowl from the cupboard and fill it with Cheerios.
“ Yeah. She needs her beauty sleep.” He grins, looking up from his iPhone. “Going to Gran’s today?”
I sit and pour milk into my bowl. “That’s the plan.”
He puts his phone down and leans on his forearms to scrutinize me. His brows knit in confusion and he gives his head a little shake. “Why, Lola? She’s what, seventy-eight, seventy-nine? Why do you want to hang out with an old lady?”
“ She’s eighty and she’s cool,” I say. Defiance edges my voice. “I love Grandma Rose.”
He laughs. “I know you love her. We all love her. But only you could find an eighty-year-old woman cool. It’s the weekend, it’s almost summer. Why don’t you go out with some friends? You’re starting to worry me.”
“ Don’t worry about me.” I stare into my cereal.
“ But always with the books and the writing.” He lifts my face with a finger, which is crowned with black nail polish. “I just want you to be happy.”
I sigh and turn away. How many times do I have to hear this speech? “You just don’t get it. You, Mom, Eva, you’re all alike. I’m the outsider in this family. Dad, I am happy. I love to read, I love to write and I love to hang out with Grandma Rose. Why can’t you just let me be me? I won’t ever be like you guys.” I scrape my chair back and stand. “I don’t want to be like you guys.”
I shovel a huge scoop of cereal into my mouth and mumble, “Be back after lunch.”
Chapter Fifteen
My mood lifts as soon as I see Grandma Rose’s smiling face.
“ Keep your shoes on, Kiddo, we’re goin’ out today,” she announces with enthusiasm when I walk through the door. Her make-up is on, her hair is neatly combed and sprayed into place – I can tell by the sheen – and she’s dressed in her favorite comfy-looking velour track suit. She shrugs a giant purse onto a shoulder. “Let’s go!”
Gran still drives, though she had to take a driving test this year in order to keep her licence. She passed with flying colors.
“ Where’re we going?”
“ You mind goin’ to the mall with your old granny? I know how you hate shopping with your mom. I promise I won’t make you try on ugly clothes,” she says with a giggle. “I need an outfit for my ballroom dancing recital this afternoon.”
My mind boggles. I knew Gran took some kind of dance lesson on Sunday afternoons. She heads straight over to the community center after my visits. But ballroom dancing? I thought it was exercise dancing for old folks. Then again, she does go on and on about Dancing with the Stars , and how much she loves some guy on the show named Maks, so it shouldn’t surprise me. She even painted a picture of him, if I remember correctly.
“ How come you never told me you were taking ballroom dancing?”
“ Oh, I suppose I do lots of things I don’t tell you about,” she says with a wink. “Tonight we do the Cha Cha Cha. I’m so excited. I’ve got to get something sexy, but age appropriate.”
She threw in the last bit for my benefit. Gran isn’t like Mom in the way she dresses. She’s got class. I wish some of it had rubbed off on my mother.
After pulling into the parking lot of Bridgewood Mall in Gran’s cherry red 1989 Toyota Corolla SR5, we head into the mall to
“ Good morning,” he says brightly when I enter the kitchen.
He’s got a few days’ growth of stubble and his hair stands stiffly on end; too much gel and hairspray. I cringe at the thought of how many other dads use more hair products than their daughters. Two large hoop earrings adorn his lobes and he’s wearing a True Religion shirt and jeans with holes in them. He paid extra for the holes I think.
“ Hey, Dad. Mom still asleep?” I pull a bowl from the cupboard and fill it with Cheerios.
“ Yeah. She needs her beauty sleep.” He grins, looking up from his iPhone. “Going to Gran’s today?”
I sit and pour milk into my bowl. “That’s the plan.”
He puts his phone down and leans on his forearms to scrutinize me. His brows knit in confusion and he gives his head a little shake. “Why, Lola? She’s what, seventy-eight, seventy-nine? Why do you want to hang out with an old lady?”
“ She’s eighty and she’s cool,” I say. Defiance edges my voice. “I love Grandma Rose.”
He laughs. “I know you love her. We all love her. But only you could find an eighty-year-old woman cool. It’s the weekend, it’s almost summer. Why don’t you go out with some friends? You’re starting to worry me.”
“ Don’t worry about me.” I stare into my cereal.
“ But always with the books and the writing.” He lifts my face with a finger, which is crowned with black nail polish. “I just want you to be happy.”
I sigh and turn away. How many times do I have to hear this speech? “You just don’t get it. You, Mom, Eva, you’re all alike. I’m the outsider in this family. Dad, I am happy. I love to read, I love to write and I love to hang out with Grandma Rose. Why can’t you just let me be me? I won’t ever be like you guys.” I scrape my chair back and stand. “I don’t want to be like you guys.”
I shovel a huge scoop of cereal into my mouth and mumble, “Be back after lunch.”
Chapter Fifteen
My mood lifts as soon as I see Grandma Rose’s smiling face.
“ Keep your shoes on, Kiddo, we’re goin’ out today,” she announces with enthusiasm when I walk through the door. Her make-up is on, her hair is neatly combed and sprayed into place – I can tell by the sheen – and she’s dressed in her favorite comfy-looking velour track suit. She shrugs a giant purse onto a shoulder. “Let’s go!”
Gran still drives, though she had to take a driving test this year in order to keep her licence. She passed with flying colors.
“ Where’re we going?”
“ You mind goin’ to the mall with your old granny? I know how you hate shopping with your mom. I promise I won’t make you try on ugly clothes,” she says with a giggle. “I need an outfit for my ballroom dancing recital this afternoon.”
My mind boggles. I knew Gran took some kind of dance lesson on Sunday afternoons. She heads straight over to the community center after my visits. But ballroom dancing? I thought it was exercise dancing for old folks. Then again, she does go on and on about Dancing with the Stars , and how much she loves some guy on the show named Maks, so it shouldn’t surprise me. She even painted a picture of him, if I remember correctly.
“ How come you never told me you were taking ballroom dancing?”
“ Oh, I suppose I do lots of things I don’t tell you about,” she says with a wink. “Tonight we do the Cha Cha Cha. I’m so excited. I’ve got to get something sexy, but age appropriate.”
She threw in the last bit for my benefit. Gran isn’t like Mom in the way she dresses. She’s got class. I wish some of it had rubbed off on my mother.
After pulling into the parking lot of Bridgewood Mall in Gran’s cherry red 1989 Toyota Corolla SR5, we head into the mall to
Similar Books
