Page 21 of Barefoot Dreams
“Bye, Griff.” Julie waves and slips out the door before I can say bye back.
Mom blows out a heavy sigh, that sweet smile of hers nowhere near in sight. “What did you do?”
“What? Nothing!”
She sighs again, tipping her head up. “And that’s the problem,” she mutters, slowly. “I’ll never see my own grandkids.”
Un-freaking-believable.
“And on that note, I’m out.” I get up, cradling lavender against my crotch and unfortunately that doesn’t escape mom’s attention.
Blessedly though, she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, there’s a small smile she’s trying to hide and I can’t figure out if I should be weirded out or terrified of what she’s already planning in her head.
“Andrew! Drop the tray. Again,” she adds the last part with a pout.
A second later, there’s a loud dang against the floor upstairs. Yep, Dad dropped the tray. Again.
“Mom, I swear, I can go on my own.”
“Sure, you can.” Mom pats my cheek with a sweet smile, pushing the cup into my hands and goes into their room to change. “Why don’t you gulp this down before we head out.”
I look down at the brew as a tiny bubble pops up. Yeah, no thank you.
“Oh, and Griffin?”
“Yeah?”
“You can take the pot off your poor man parts. There’s no need to suffocate them anymore than you already do.”
“Mooom.”
5
Not Dear Diary
How long has it been? A year, two, since I came to you for help?
I thought it was all behind me. I thought it didn’t matter anymore.
Why do I keep lying to myself?
6
Griffin
“Love is like war: easy to begin but very hard to stop.” – H. L. Mencken
We barely take two steps out of our funky, craftsman style home when Mom starts showing me off. Literally. From one neighbor to the next until we make it to the main street, and she proceeds to drag me from store to store like a show pony while her friends are cooing around me like I’m a two-year-old baby boy with chubby cheeks.
I either need to move away or at the very least get my own apartment. And seeing as I feel a strange, painful tug in my heart at the thought of leaving LC again, my own apartment it is.
First thing tomorrow morning.
“Jenny! Come meet my boy,” Mom calls out to yet another friend of hers as soon as we step out of Serendipity Groceries. “Isn’t he adorable?”
Adorable…fucking adorable… Scratch tomorrow morning…today! I’m finding my own place today and then I’m never leaving it again in the light of day. Maybe night either since in Loverly Cave there is no such thing as quiet hours between 10 p.m. and 8 a.m.
Nope, the wild residents over sixty liked to party all night long. Retirement, what?
