Dear Life(23)

“It’s lovely. The mauve and dirty-blue tones you used are quite fetching.”

“I thought so as well. It matches my slacks perfectly.” Before I left Amanda’s townhouse, I donned one of my best outfits since I’ll be attending a Dear Life meeting tonight. Wanting to impress, I put on my Alfred Dunner blue slacks, cream turtleneck, and my newly finished quilt vest. I looked in the mirror before I left and I had to admit, the colors faired very well together.

“You’re stitching has really improved over the years. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks, Grams.” I glance around her room, taking in the subtle touches she’s made to it with some of her decorations, pictures, and afghans. “The place is looking really nice. Are you liking it here?”

“I am. I wish I had a bigger room, but this will do. The women here are quite lovely. Very progressive.”

“Progressive? Really? In what way?”

“I don’t know if it’s appropriate to talk about.” Her cheeks blush ever so slightly.

“Come on, Grams, you can tell me anything. Don’t hold back now.”

Sighing, she leans forward, glances at her door for anyone who might come through and then says, “I’ve fallen to peer pressure.”

A giggle escapes me. What kind of peer pressure could there be in a senior living community? Crazy puzzling? Wheelchair Olympics? Eating with no dentures? Look out!

Holding back my smile, I ask, “What kind of peer pressure?”

“Well, there is a book club here and every two weeks, we discuss the selected book.”

“That seems like fun.”

“That’s what I thought, until they gave me my first book to read.” Blushing some more, she says, “It was Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Not really aware of any kind of pop-culture. I ask, “What’s that? A fabric book? If it is, I would like to get my hands on it. I’ve had some trouble finding the perfect grey for this quilt I’ve been working on. The patterns I keep finding aren’t mixing well with my other choices so if this book has any suggestions, that would be awesome.”

Shaking her head, Grams leans forward some more and whispers, “It’s erotic romance.”

Eyebrows shooting straight to my hairline, my cheeks blush and I say on a squeak, “Erotic romance? Like . . . sex?”

Nodding with her eyes wide she confirms. “Yes, sex. And oh boy, there’s a lot.”

“Grams.” I blush some more, unable to form words, my hands on my cheeks.

“I know. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I thought it was a book about a nice college girl interviewing a businessman until contracts start to be talked of and kisses happen in elevators. Then before you know it,” Grams wings her hands in the air freely, “penises are flying about and tampons are being pulled out.” Fanning herself, she continues, “I’ve been quite educated.”

“Oh goodness. That seems . . . interesting. I guess it’s not about fabric.”

“Not unless you want to talk about the kind of silk to blindfold a submissive.”

“Submissive?” My brow pulls together.

Patting my lap, she says, “Don’t worry about it, dearie. But I must say, I’ve enjoyed the tales this E.L. James weaves. Makes me feel young again.”

“Well, I guess that’s a good thing.”

She nods with pride. “It is. And get this, there are movies that correspond with the books.”

“Movies?” I ask incredulously. “Sex movies, like,” I bring my voice to a whisper, “like those porn videos you always warned me about?”

“Oh no, honey. Not like those porn videos, this has a storyline. There is a big difference.”

“But, do you see—?”

“The sex?” she interrupts. “Well, you don’t see male genitalia if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Wait.” I hold up my hand, completely and utterly confused by the conversation I’m having with my ultra-conservative Catholic grandma who watched nothing but musicals and old videotapes of Irish dancers, and the occasional soap opera, but she always turned it off when things got heated. “Have you watched these movies?”

“There’s only one out right now and yes, I have. It was for the experience. Remember when we were reading Pride and Prejudice together for your homeschooling and I would play pieces of the Pride and Prejudice featuring the beautiful Colin Firth for you to better understand the old language?”

“Yeah,” I answer skeptically, unsure where she’s going with this.

“Well, it’s kind of like that. We watched the movie to confirm what we envisioned in the book. But I must say, there was a lot missing from the movie. Oh Hollywood, always destroying the written word.”

Nodding, very uncomfortably and starting to sweat in my cream turtleneck, I ask, “So you didn’t like it?”

“Oh no,” she admonishes. “I enjoyed it very much. That Christian Grey, yowee, he’s a looker. And now I have this big fear looming over my head.”

“What kind of fear?”

“Well, the girls in the book club and I have read all the books, but the movies are taking quite some time to come out.”

“Are you afraid they won’t finish them?”