“Oh god.”
“There was even this woman that we saw on the regular for a while,” she goes on.
“Please don’t continue this story, Grandma.”
She raises a brow at me. “Wow, considering you have three boyfriends, I didn’t you to be so prudish, Ivy Hendersen.” Her eyes hard nothing but amusement.
“I don’t have three boyfriends, Grandma,” I grit out again even though I can’t deny the slight amusement that I feel. “God, I’ll never think of Grandpa the same,” I mutter. Grandpa passed away when I was thirteen and he and Grandma were still happily married. Very happily married it’d seem from Grandma’s story.
She only smiles at me and despite her pestering, her presence relieves a lot of the stress that I’ve been feeling. While my mother may be a bitch, and my father has me spoiled, Grandma is the one who has always known me better than anyone.
She frowns and turns her phone off, placing it next to her as the conversation shifts to a more serious tone. “So, what did your bitch of a mother want when she called yesterday?” she asks. Grandma has never made any qualms about her disdain for my mother and the way she treats me. The bad blood between them had only worsened during my teenage years when Grandma wanted me to come live with her, telling my mother that I should be in a place where I was cared for. It’s never escaped my attention that she only kept me so Grandma couldn’t have me. Mother has always been spiteful that way. Plus, it wouldn’t have been good if her high society social circles found out she’d gotten rid of her kid.
My father has always tried to be somewhat of a peace keeper but all interactions I’ve seen between the two women have been nothing short of a shit storm.
“She’s coming up next month to see the kids,” I say as I pull my legs to my chest and place my head on my knees with a sigh. “I really don’t want her here-”
“Then don’t let the bitch in the door.”
“But the kids are still her grandkids,'’ I finish. “Kylie would have wanted them to have a relationship with her.” Because my sister still saw good in our mother somehow. She was trying to get us to reconcile and have a better relationship up to the day she died and it’s the only thing we ever truly argued about. A part of me wanted to put aside the pain my mother caused me just for her.
You can’t forget your pain for someone else’s pleasure.
The words from my grandmother had been the thing that kept me sticking to my decision and it’d been the right choice. My mother is toxic and up until the funeral, I hadn’t spoken to her in over seven years. I’d seen her of course, but I always kept my distance. I’d passed right by her when Tanner was born and the same for Lilly. Any birthday parties for the kids that we’d both attended, I’d stay well away from her which wasn’t hard since she only showed up to make an appearance for thirty minutes just to say she was there before leaving. But I won’t take her away from the kids, no matter how I directly feel about her. As long as she doesn’t cause them any harm, mentally or physically, like she’d done me, I’d cooperate, but nothing more. There’d be no reconciliations with us and certainly no communication that didn’t have to do with the kids.
“Well if she steps one foot out of line you call me and I’ll knock her ass all the way back to that little mansion of hers.”
I smile at Grandma, “I know you will.” The woman has gone to bat for me time and time again. I’ve seen her and my mother nearly come to blows multiple times before. Of course Mother insists that she’s too classy for fisticuffs but I’ve always thought that she’s scared of Grandma and I certainly can’t blame her. The woman was a force to be reckoned with in her younger days, from what I’ve heard, not much has changed in her older age.
Feisty and confident, she’ll do anything in the world to protect her babies.
It’s one of the things that makes me aspire to be more like her.
Grandma smiles and pats my knee. “I’ve got to get started on dinner.” She shuffles away from me, moving into the kitchen.
I scroll through social media as I listen to her bustle around in the kitchen. My finger stops on a message from Crystal on Instagram and for a moment my heart picks up speed as I debate on opening the message. There’s a reason Patricia told me to get rid of all of my old friends, but there’s also a reason I didn’t listen. I still like to vicariously live through their pictures and Instagram story and imagine the days that I’d be right next to them, getting high or drunk out of my mind. Taking someone to a room and letting them fuck my brains out before forgetting about it the next day.
The message begs for my attention and I’m just about to click on it when Tanner’s head peeps around the corner of the couch.
He gives me a smile before flopping down by my feet, his tablet in his hands, blasting the sound of engines revving. I watch him and the joy on his face. It reminds me why I’ve avoided the temptation of getting back into my old life: he and his sister need me.
I click out of Instagram.
I listen as Grandma moves around in the kitchen and while I would offer to help, I know better. I haven’t been allowed to help her cook since the time I mistakenly passed her a cup full of salt instead of sugar and her sweet potato pies turned out horrible for Thanksgiving day. My father and I still laugh about the incident, but Grandma doesn’t find it anywhere near as funny.
The doorbell rings at seven o’clock sharp and Tanner comes bustling through the house with a freshly napped Lilly waddling behind him. “Tanner,” I say when his hand goes to the knob. “You know not to answer the door.”
He gives me a look of exasperation. “Yeah, but it’s just Coach Chase and Coach Nathan.”
“Tanner, don’t argue with adults,” Grandma’s voice comes from the kitchen but it’s loud and sharp.
Tanner’s shoulders droop slightly and he peeks up at me. “Sorry, Aunt Ivy.”
“Okay.” I watch as he trots down the hallway, unhappy. Damn, why can’t I crack the whip like Grandma? Because I know exactly what he’s feeling, the woman was the only person who could get me to act right just by yelling at me growing up.
Deciding I’ll have to have a talk with her about discipline and how lousy I am at it later, I pull the door open and my mouth nearly falls open.
Fuck. Me.