Page 22 of Breaking All The Rules

“I’m feeling better, but not one hundred percent yet,” I answered, turning to look at him. “I was actually just getting ready to order some take-out. Do you want anything?”

“That depends.” He furrowed his brow. “Where are you getting food from?”

I turned back to my computer and leaned forward a little to read the name at the top of the list.

“Happy Noodles?”

“Um. No.” He shook his head and chuckled softly. “I’m not eating there, and neither are you. Grab your purse. I’m taking you to lunch.”

He pushed off from the door and walked into his office. I opened my bottom desk drawer and pulled out my purse, sliding it up my arm as I grabbed my cell phone from my desk. I walked into his office and waited for him.

He was bending over his desk, looking at something on his computer, completely oblivious to the box underneath him. Surely his mom had told him about it. While I got the immediate feeling that she didn’t like me, it didn’t make me feel any less guilty about not telling him about the box when I told her that I would make sure he saw it.

“Your mom brought you something,” I said, nodding to the box.

He glanced down at it and smiled, briefly turning his attention back to the computer before pushing his mouse to the side and picking up the box. He held it in his hands, staring at it with a small smile.

“Happy birthday,” I added, remembering that his mom had wished him one.

“I overheard your mom,” I explained, suddenly feeling self-conscious about eavesdropping.

“Thank you.” He sighed and held the box between two hands before looking at me. “It’s a gift from my grandma.”

“That’s really sweet,” I said softly.

He nodded and closed his eyes for a second.

“She passed away last year from a heart attack.” He paused for a moment before he continued. “She never missed mine or my brother’s birthday. Every year, she would bake us a cake and would always pick the perfect gift for us. Half the time,Ididn’t even know what I wanted, let alone needed. But she always knew.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss. She sounds like she was an amazing grandmother.”

“She was the best.” His voice sounded strained as he looked away, avoiding eye contact.

“My mom told me that my grandma knew that she wasn’t going to make it to my next birthday. She just had a gut feeling that her time would come before then. She was determined to give us one last gift,” he said as he lifted the box in the air.

“I can give you some privacy if you want to open it,” I offered, turning to go back to my office.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to.” He shook his head, setting the box down on his desk where he had found it. He pulled in a deep breath and then puffed his cheeks with air as he slowly let it out. I could see his fingers tremble slightly as they worked to open the box.

I could feel the weight of the emotions that were rushing over him and desperately wanted to go over and hug him. He slowly opened the lid to the box and looked inside. A sad smile spread across his face as he picked up the piece of paper that was lying on top and read it.

I kept my place at the door, staying quiet so I didn’t ruin his moment. A few seconds later, he laughed and looked over at me.

“What is it?” I asked.

He reached inside, pulled out a jar of peanut butter, and set it on his desk. Next, he pulled out a package of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers, and a handful of chocolate bars, setting them in front of his keyboard.

“When I was six years old, my parents separated after my mom found out that my dad was having an affair. We moved in with my grandma while my mom tried to get back on her feet. I was too little to understand what was going on or why everyone was constantly so mad and yelling at each other. One day, my parents were having a massive fight when my dad came to my grandma's to talk to my mom. They just kept yelling at each other non-stop for what felt like hours. My brother was sixteen at the time, so he left with his friends, and I was stuck there by myself.” He stopped for a second and clenched his jaw at the memory.

“I was hiding under the kitchen table when my grandma came home and found me. She didn’t know that my dad had come by or that my parents had been fighting, but once she saw me, she knew that something had happened. I was so scared to come out that she had to lure me with chocolate. After I finally came out, she sat me down at the kitchen table and went to the pantry to get the stuff she needed to make s’mores.”

I smiled as I listened, loving the connection that he shared with his grandma.

“As I got older, my parents were constantly at each other’s throats, and I wasn’t shielded from it. My brother was off getting into trouble of his own, and I was left to fend for myself. Every time my parents had a blowout, my grandma would sit with me in the kitchen, and we would make s’mores. One day, when the fighting was the worst I had ever seen, she grabbed a jar of peanut butter and added it to our pile. She said, ‘sometimes in life, the messier things get, the better they are in the end’. And from that day on, we never ate s’mores without peanut butter.”

“That’s an incredible story,” I said quietly. “And I totally get it. I would never have thought of adding peanut butter to something that’s already messy, but I love the way she looked at it. The mess is totally worth how delicious it must be.”

“Indeed, it is,” he replied as he started loading everything back into the box.

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