Can I really play this part and keep my feelings in check?
ELEVEN
Levi
Standing in the middle of an aisle of the grocery store, I look down and attempt to focus on the list Georgie gave me. I’m looking at the paper, it has words, but none of them make sense to me. Nothing makes sense in my world all of a sudden.
Have you ever had a seismic shift of epic proportions happen in your life, in a very short amount of time, and you don’t know how to handle it? Because this is me. This is what I'm dealing with.
Look, I’ve known her for the past year, more than that actually. Before I knew who she was, I had a crush on Georgie. First, she was the hottie who ran the new bookstore in town. Then, when I met her through my friend Riley, my childhood bestie who’s been my ride-or-die forever, that very day I was hit with a thunderbolt of feelings to my heart center. Swear to the heavens and on my Super Bowl ring.
Getting to know her was easy; we fell into step together from the word “go.” From the second she busted out her own homemade lemonade and introduced me to Toto, I was hooked. I’d go away for games, we’d text. As soon as I was backin the area, she was the person I wanted to see. We’d grab lunch and talk about what I’d seen and done, and I wanted to hear about how she was. I needed to know she was okay…and even grit my teeth as I listened to her talk about the guys she dated, too. Kind of semi-accepting I might already be in the friend zone, but in denial as well.
I round the corner of the freezer aisle and glance down at my paper: chicken fingers, French fries, and ice cream are listed. All things from this part of the store. I quickly review the list again, a little surprised there aren’t any vegetables on here. Which makes me wonder: is she eating nutritiously? Maybe I should pick up a few things from the produce section. I could make her a nice salad today…also, why am I worried about her eating habits?
The sound of a woman clearing her throat behind me gives me pause. It’s not like I stop anytime someone does this, but there’s a tone to it that feels oddly familiar and the pitch sounds like a person who wants and needs to be seen.
I start to turn around, a shiver crawling up my spine as I do. When I see who it is, I understand my body’s natural reaction.
“Lorna. Imagine running into you here.” Tom’s mother and the woman who wants to take Duncan from me like Atilla the Hun when he took Greece. I could engage, but I don’t want to. I just want to fulfill my list and get outta here, so I open the freezer door and pull out the chicken fingers and a bag of fries.
“Bound to happen since there’s only one grocery store around for miles,” she says, plastering a smile across her face that is anything but heartwarming. It’s tight, her features looked pinched, and I’d swear she’d had something bad to eat, but no. She’s only talking to me.
She drags her eyes to my cart, judging me based on Georgie’s choices,no doubt. “Chicken fingers and fries, huh?” Tapping on the freezer door, she points to a different brand of chicken fingers. “Those are actually the ones Duncan likes.”
“Good to know.” I hold up the box and shake them at her. I can’t help myself. “These are for someone else.”
“That makes me feel better,” she says with approval in her tone. Not that I need it. “There are no vegetables in your cart and I’d hate to think that my grandson's nutrition needs aren’t being met while he stays with you.”
While he stays with me. I could stand here and we could go back and forth, but no. Nothing good is going to come out of us conversing right now, so I start walking away. “I need to keep moving, Lorna, got a lot on my plate today.”
Somehow I manage to get away from her swiftly, and I resist the urge to pat myself on my back. I want to scream at her. To ask her how dare she try to do the opposite of what her son and daughter-in-law wanted for their son. I want to ask her why? Why put us through a court case, but then I remember she is also his grandmother. She is his family, too. I have to believe she’s doing this out of love for him and what she thinks, in that tiny judgy mind of hers, is best for him.
On the end cap of the aisle, I’m stoked to find that the store has a tasting table set up for new products. Am I one of those people who likes getting samples? Oh, you bet I do. My mother taught me well. I pluck up a few meatballs as I go by, the pretty cook behind the table letting me know about the barbeque sauce that’s been slowly cooking all day. I take the plate she offers with more, catching her as she winks at me. I’m used to this when I’m on the road, having women flirt with me. They see a football player and…well, I can’t even begin to guess what they are thinking, I just know they get really flirty and some get aggressive.
I should keep moving, but these meatballs are like witchcraft. I can’t stop eating them. My fingers are covered in sauce, to the point she hands me a napkin, giggling, pointing towhere the sauce is dripping down my arm. I’m delicately balancing the plate and about to say thank you and keep going, when again, a voice from behind calls out. This time it scares the bee-jeezus outta me.
“Levi.” Lorna’s voice cuts through the air as I lose the grip I had on my plate. It’s like a slow-motion scene from a film, where we see the handsome male main character—that’s me—drop a plate covered with red sauce down the front of his very white T-shirt, down his jeans, and, as the plate hits the floor and flips in the air, it sends out a spray of sauce that attacks his sneakers and socks, too.
I close my eyes and beg for strength before opening them and turning around, slowly, to face this woman. “Yes?”
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” she says with a smirk that could rival the Cheshire Cat’s. She leans in closer so only I can hear. “I hope you’re better at cleaning up messes than you are at holding onto plates.”
“Touché, Lorna.” I swipe a few napkins from the demonstration table and try wiping my mess. “What do you want?”
She stands in front of me, shifting her weight from one side to the other. “I’m trying to see a path forward for us, one where you’ll still be able to see Duncan if you’d like, once things calm down.”
I feel like she’s purposely trying to get a rise out of me. You know when people do that and you can smell the manipulation?
“I don’t think we should be talking, Lorna.” I stare at her pointedly, gripping the cart handles as I move away. “I appreciate your efforts, but since you’ve taken the time to serve me with papers, I feel like we need to go through our lawyers for any communication.” When she doesn't respond, I nod my head her way. “Have a good day.”
Making an executive decision to get out of here, I head for the checkout line. I’d circle back and get Georgie the chocolatechip ice cream she requested, but if Mom found out I did that, I’d never hear the end of it. I make a mental note to make some for her when I get back to the farm, and surprise her with it. That way everyone wins.
I fly through the checkout; the young cashier and her friend who bags groceries do a good job of not laughing at me and my newly stained self, until they do. As the cashier slides a jug of bleach to her coworker, they exchange a look and both pairs of eyes dart my way, and teenage giggling ensues.
As soon as I pay my bill, I make a beeline for the exit. I want to get out of here before I have any more run-ins with Lorna. I should also call Buzz and let him know how she acted; it may help my side of things in the end. But even as I think this very thought, I feel sick inside. I hate going to court. I hate that we’re thinking of Duncan as property, and I hate that my first instinct is to “tell on her” when in reality, she’s just a sad lady who’s mourning the loss of her son and daughter-in-law.
As I get closer to my SUV, I see Georgie’s rolled down the window on her side of the car. Spotting me, she waves and opens the door, her jaw going slack as she sees the state of me.
