Page 40 of Made for You
“Don’t be so shocked. I knew him before he ever picked up a guitar. I remember when this town was nothing but Odds and the first-generation Diner and Will Morrison set up his lodge.” She looked a little wistful as she took a sip.
“I didn’t think about it like that, but I guess you would.” She’d lived here almost all her life save a stint in California. She’d come back before I was born—when things got bad with my parents.
“Point is, I know them. They’re all good girls, just like you.”
My turn to raise a brow, which she swatted away like a pesky gnat in the air. “Don’t tell me you think your sealed juvenile record precludes you from having nice friends?”
The warm mug tethered me to the moment, keeping me from flying off to distant times when I’d been so angry and wounded and lost. “I think it might’ve, for a long time. But coming here—I talked myself into getting a fresh start. I told myself I needed totryand not let my past, both the distant past and the more recent—shade everything.”
She nodded approvingly. “Good. That’s just the thing.”
Frustration spilled over, and I couldn’t dance around it anymore. “You asked me to come help you and I’m glad to, but you never told me about the stroke. How could you leave that out?”
She took a small breath, studying the bright blue-and-red rug on the floor in front of her before speaking. “I know it’s not enough, but here’s the truth.”
I straightened, bracing.
“Getting old isn’t for the faint of heart. The stroke was… kind of miraculous. Everyone said so, your new friend Dove included. And while I was very happy to be the recipient of a miracle, it took me to a hard place. One I’m not sure I can explain very well, except to say that I didn’t want to face it.”
Logically, I understood her reluctance to some degree. That had clicked on some level, especially as someone who preferred keeping things close. But the tender insides that seemed to be closer to the surface merely by stepping into Silverton, the great-niece in me… that part still ached at the thought of her keeping something so important from me. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it was a shock. I guess I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t have at least called once it was over. I don’t want you to think I can’t handle things.”
Her regretful smile looked so sad, it felt like a slap. “I am truly sorry you found out the way you did, Nikki. I love you and it’s true that I didn’t want to upset you, but I know you can handle a lot—more than I think anyone should have to, really.”
We sat with that truth between us for a moment before I answered. “And then, you did ask me to come. You asked me to help you, but you didn’t tell me why.”
Saying it out loud, part of me wondered why it even mattered. Did it? When I liked it here and I’d been so relieved to have a purpose, to have a place to go and a reason to go there?
“I wanted it to be your choice. I didn’t want you to come out of obligation.”
Why that made my chest tighten, I couldn’t have said.
“I do have an obligation to you, but it’s not a bad thing. I don’t—” I cleared my throat. “Iwantto have people I’m obligated to. When you grow up like I did, it’s a burdennotto have anyone expect anything from you, either because they underestimate you due to your past or because they don’t know you well enough to think they have a right to. Ilovethat you took me in and cared for me when you did, and—”
“I wish I could’ve spared you all the rest. I wish I’d found you sooner.”
Her voice shook, and I had to grit my teeth to keep the emotion brimming at the edges of all my frayed parts from rushing over.
“You came when you found out. And you dealt with me at what was my absolute worst. I have you to thank for any normalcy and semblance of a life I’ve had, and I was honestly relieved to have you mention coming back here.” There, the whole truth of it.
I’d spent just shy of two years here, finishing up high school online a year later than I should’ve graduated, then doing odd jobs in the town and for her, keeping my head down and doing my best not to get close with anyone while I knocked out a handful of virtual community college classes. I’d loved her then, but I’d still been so angry with my parents for dying, and then with her for being unreachable for so many years that I spent in foster care. By the time I left for in-person college back in California, I’d had a twinge of regret. I’d wondered what it would’ve been like to just stay here with her and make a life near family and be… happy.
But the thought of failing at that had driven me away. Maybe more so, the fear of her failing me had gripped me, so I’d only made sporadic trips to her and she came as often as I allowed. Yet, we’d grown close on those visits and during phone calls and texts over the years, and I’d started therapy on campus, then continued it after. My growth, her steady presence even from afar, and the connection we had by blood and bravery meant she was the dearest person in the world to me.
Losing everything in California, I realized more and more, had been a kind of a choice. Losing Gram now? I couldn’t handle it. And that, more than her not telling me, was what scared me so much. The thought that she wouldn’t have asked if my life hadn’t been falling apart had me shuddering inside, and yet, here we were. Facing the hard things head-on.
“I’d hoped maybe that would be the case. I didn’t want the stroke to confuse things for you and honestly, though my chances of another one are increased now, I’m no worse for the wear. Psychologically, it has taken a toll, but I think I’ve moved from feeling sorry for myself into a determination to live my life to the fullest. To stop pretending I have all the time in the world.” Something flashed in her expression, then she tucked it away.
I hated that thought, but having lost my parents at a young age, I’d never escaped the reality that we didn’t know how much time we had. I’d coped with it first with anger and acting out, then with working myself into a version of life that’d ultimately meant very little to me. Amazing that I’d only realized this now, years down the line, once it was all stripped away.
“So you don’t really need my help? I’ve been wondering what it is I’m supposed to do with you,” I joked, hoping it would lighten the heaviness in my heart.
She shook her head. “I mostly need you to tell me about my strapping young neighbor and whether he’s a good kisser or if it’s all just a pretty face.” She winked.
My mouth dropped open, and my cheeks flamed in an instant. “Were you spying on us?”
Her cat-that-ate-the-canary smile made my eyes grow wide, then she chuckled and waved me off. “I’m notthatbad, child. I heard his truck pull in and saw you get out. Tempted though I was, I gave you your privacy. But I did note a certain passage of time that told me you must’ve had a riveting conversation or…”
Could a person expire from embarrassment? I was solidly in my thirties, and yet the thought of Gram knowing I’d been kissing Bruce was… well, for some reason, it made me feel about fifteen.
