Page 71 of Waiting for Gilbert

“Just be grateful you have Lisa on your back or you’d be next.”

“Fair enough.”

I slowly climb to my feet and he gently takes my elbow. “Why did you do that? That was mean.”

“I’m—I think I’m jealous.”

“Of me?”

He nods. We walk in silence for a few steps while I mull that around. His grip tightens on my coat sleeve. “I’ve seen you struggle. I’ve seen you try so hard through the years to please everyone, and try to fit yourself into someone’s idea of what you should be. Someone you’re not. You’ll never be loved for who you are if you’re trying to be someone else. Sure, I haven’t met this guy, but you could fill five notebooks with the conversations between the two of you. Trust me, no man talks to a girl that much if he’s not into her.”

I don’t have much else to say. The kids run the last few yards and file into the donut shop ahead of us. If Mark is right, why am I so afraid?

29

CORDELIA

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24

RYAN BAIRD/SOVEREIGN GRACE MUSIC—BEHOLD OUR GOD

Bing!

Mom: How’s it going, sweety? Haven’t heard from you in a few days.

Cordelia: Hi, Mom. I’m good. What’s up?

Mom: Meet any nice boys from your app?

Cordelia: How’s Diana?

Mom: If she didn’t tell me I’d never know what’s going on with you.

Cordelia: Working a lot. I finished the last Christmas cookbook!

Mom: Good job. Meet any nice boys from your app?

Cordelia: Had a nice dinner with David. But we won’t meet again.

Mom: Oh, too bad.

Cordelia: No, it’s good. We weren’t a good fit.

Mom: When are you going to hang on to one of these men? I’m ready for more grandbabies.

I type out four different responses—none of them respectful or kind. The lights dim as church is about to start. Annoyed, I hold the power button on my phone until I can turn it off. Shouldn’t have had the dumb thing out this morning anyway. I was hoping to hear from Gilbert, but he’s still stuck in Omaha with the snow.

Diana nurses Jack beside me in the pew. His hand plays with a lock of her hair, and it’s beautiful. She has six kids. Six kids and she’s a mere two years older than me. That’s wonderful for her, but Mom’s words still bother me. She had no right to say it. No stinking right. Does Momthinkbefore she opens her mouth?

“When are you going to hang on to one of these men? I’m ready for more grandbabies.”

Oh, I don’t know, Mom. When I’m all dried up and sour. I’ve looked hither and yon and nobody gets me. I’m pretty awesome by myself. Mostly.

There’s always Facebook Marketplace.ISO: A man to provide my mom with grandbabies. No holds. Bring your own truck.

I know in my heart that she did not wake up today and ponder, “How can I make dear sweet Cordy miserable over the holidays?” But try telling that to whatever body part controls my emotions. Can we blame this on hormones?Argh. I’m furious—borderline livid. Why are people so dumb? A little voice in my head whispers oh-so-carefully,Psst, you are also dumb sometimes.I grunt a small, reluctant noise in response that says, “I hear you, and I believe you, but my feelings are still bruised.”

A short man with brown hair plays the simple, solemn opening chords on the grand piano. I breathe slowly and rest my mind.

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