Page 5 of The Run Option

“You scared me half to death! Why didn’t you call?” she says as I round the corner.

Granny Mae is not a woman to be trifled with. Her sweet southern demeanor might fool you into thinking she’s helpless, but anyone who knows her knows that’s the last thing she is. Case in point: the antique rifle she’s lowering beside her recliner. The thing is older than she is, but Granny Mae says it still shoots, and insists on keeping it handy in case an intruder comes barging in.

“You gave me a key and said to come by whenever I wanted to,” I tell her.

She narrows her eyes, brushing her palms over her floral dress. “That doesn’t mean you come by unannounced. Now come over here and give your granny a hug.”

She opens her arms and I have to bend down to wrap my arms around her. I’m five-foot-nine and I don’t get my long legs from her, so hugs require a little stretching. Her powder rose scent envelops me and I smile.

“How are you doing this week?” I ask as I pull back.

“Have you eaten today?” she asks instead of answering my question.

“Yes ma’am, I ate dinner before coming over here.”

“Then you need dessert. I have banana pudding in the fridge.” She heads in the direction of her kitchen, and I follow behind her while shaking my head. Like a true southern grandma, she makes sure her grandbaby is well-fed. It’s one of the many reasons I loved visiting her here in Alabama as a kid.

“I’ve been doing just fine,” she answers my earlier question as she pulls out a Country Crock butter container. She lifts the lid and frowns when she sees butter inside, then trades it for an identical container. This time when she opens it, it’s filled with pudding and topped with vanilla wafer cookies. She sets the container on her kitchen island. The afternoon sun casts rays of light onto the old tile countertops.

“How has your arm been?” I ask while grabbing two bowls down from the nearby cabinet. I know this kitchen as well as my own with all the time I’ve spent here. Granny is a creature of habit in many ways, so the layout of her small farmhouse has changed little since I was a child.

“My physical therapist says I’ll be done with sessions next week. I feel a lot stronger.” She takes out two silver spoons withroses engraved on the handles. They match the light pink roses on the bowls I set on the kitchen island.

“That’s great. I was worried about you.”

She waves me off. “It would take more than a broken arm to keep me down.”

A few weeks ago, she fell while trying to sort through her china cabinet on a small step stool. Thankfully, she only hurt her arm and was still able to dial my number. I don’t know what would have happened if she had broken something worse or hit her head hard enough to disorient her. I try to check in often, and my parents both call her once a week, but it still could have been some time before someone got her help for a serious injury.

“I still worry. You know, the lease on my apartment is almost up–”

She gives me a sharp look. “No. I do not need a babysitter. A young thing like you needs to be out on the town, not knitting with her grandmother.”

“What if I like knitting?” I say as I scoop some pudding into my bowl.

“You can knit when you’re married.”

I laugh at her blunt response. “Based on how my last date went, I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon.”

“Was this another one of those app boys again?”

I smile around a bite of pudding. Granny tries to keep up with the times, and often asks me for lessons on things like dating apps or TikTok. When she first asked me about dating apps, I thought she was trying to find a man for herself. But she told me she was too old to date, and that no one could compare to my grandfather anyway, so there wasn’t a point.

Granddaddy passed away three years ago, but sometimes I catch myself looking out toward the empty barn like I’m going to see him leading a horse out into the ring. After he died, my dad came down from Canada and sold off all the horses so thatGranny didn’t have to worry about them. The land seems lifeless without them, but I know it was the right decision.

“Yes, I met him on a dating app,” I answer, blinking away the memories clouding my mind.

“Why don’t you date one of those boys on the Lions? They seem very nice in those videos you make. Especially that one boy–oh, what’s his name?” She taps her spoon against her lip. “King! Funny name, but he seems nice.”

My lip curls. “His name is Jason. Hisnicknameis King, and he’s not nice, he’s obnoxious.”

Granny frowns. “That’s not how it looks on the videos you make.”

“I edit out all the bad parts,” I say, which is true, but Jason doesn’t really have much to edit out. Besides the occasional flirty line he throws my way, he’s great on camera. All the women who follow us think so too, as proven by how they gush over him in the comments. I’d be embarrassed to have my name attached to their messages, but they’re unabashed in their drooling.

“Well.” She sniffs. “I’m sure at least one of those players would make a suitable husband. And they’re rich, which is a nice bonus.”

My mouth drops open. “Granny!”

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