She's Up to No Good(18)
“No.”
Evelyn threw her hands in the air. “Then you can keep your compromise.” She lay down and closed her eyes, placing her hands deliberately over her stomach. “I’m going to sleep.”
Joseph watched her for a long moment. Then relented. “You cannot marry him.”
Her eyes sprung open. “I’m seventeen. I’m not marrying anyone.”
“And you can’t date only him. You have to see Jewish boys too. And nothing interferes with college.”
Evelyn sat up, swinging her feet back onto the floor. “And Mama?”
He hesitated again. “Maybe—maybe you only tell her about the Jewish ones. You tell her you stopped seeing this boy.”
A laugh bubbled up in her chest, threatening to escape, but she contained it. “Okay.”
Looking guilty, he reached into his pocket and pulled out some brisket and a piece of bread, wrapped in a linen napkin. “Don’t tell your mother about this either. I don’t want you going to bed hungry.”
She crossed the room and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Papa.”
“I love you, ziskayte,” he said, pressing the napkin of food into her hand as he stood. He kissed her forehead gently, then left, closing the door softly behind him.
Evelyn set the food on her desk and twirled in a circle, thinking to herself that if she wouldn’t need to climb down the pear tree anymore, she could probably fly instead.
CHAPTER TWELVE
As the driving got more complicated around New York and then through Westchester County on the Hutchinson River Parkway, my grandmother paused her story to insist I was going the wrong way. I tried to explain Google Maps to her; instead of the ten hours she was used to, we would be there in nine with stops. But she argued there was no need for a map. She could drive there blindfolded. Which was probably a step up from her actual driving, but I kept that thought to myself and told her I needed to concentrate.
By the time I realized I hadn’t heard from her in a conspicuously long time, I looked over, more than a little worried she had died on me. That first glance did nothing to reassure me, as her chin sagged to her chest, the muscles slack. It took a closer inspection to see her chest rising and falling as she slept.
Steadying my own breathing, I looked longingly at the car’s stereo system and wished again that we were in my car. Driving without music was a much more tedious task. But I was afraid searching the FM waves would startle her.
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, trying to resist the urge to click away from Google Maps and check my messages. I still hadn’t read the one from Brad.
We had plenty of gas and stopping would wake her.
I won’t reply, I said, justifying myself. Reading it isn’t much worse than checking the map.
It had been so much easier to avoid thinking about it when she was awake and talking.
I lasted another three miles before I remembered my AirPods. I dug them out of my purse, slipped one into my left ear, and whispered for Siri to read Brad’s message, glancing at my grandmother to make sure she stayed asleep.
I have a buyer interested in the condo, but I can’t sell it until you sign the property agreement. I won’t be petty and withhold the money until the divorce is final, but I am reminding you that it’s been six months and you can decide to not drag this out any time you want. The ball is in your court. Hope you’re well.
My chest felt tight with anger at the implication that I was being petty. I mean, okay, yes, I was being petty. I didn’t want to still be married to him. But that sense of self-righteous hurt was what was getting me out of bed every day. I wasn’t ready to let go of that.
I pulled the AirPod out of my ear and dropped it into my lap, wishing I hadn’t listened to the message.
Maybe I should get a puppy. A puppy would love me.
Something painful rose in my chest but not about Brad. About my grandfather. I hadn’t known he had been sick until the very end, when it was too late. He made everyone swear not to tell me.
I knew parents and grandparents weren’t supposed to have favorites, but I also knew they did sometimes. And I was Grandpa’s favorite. He loved all of us, of course. But I was the eldest, and Grandma once said she never saw that man fall in love the way he did when he first held me.
His whole countenance changed when I walked into the room. He lit up and wanted to know everything I had to say. He was the only one, in my whole life, who loved me like that. Brad should have. I thought he had. But apparently he didn’t. Because a love like that doesn’t evaporate into thin air.
And here I was, driving my grandma back to her hometown, probably to find this other guy, who was all she could talk about. What was I doing? Had she ever actually loved my grandfather? From what she had told me on the drive, it was obvious she thought Tony was the one for her, despite her insistence that she would never settle. Was that why my grandfather loved me so much? Because she wasn’t in love with him? She was so blasé about her mother not loving her father. Just threw it out there. Was this some curse in my family? Our inability to be with the right person, so we wind up with someone who doesn’t love us at all.
The car was too quiet. I was going to scream.
In desperation, I switched on the radio and tuned the dial. If it woke Grandma, so be it. I could ask if she loved Grandpa if she was awake. But I couldn’t sit there with my thoughts.