Page 3 of Checked Out by the Grinch
I nod, but it’s stiff. I’m not bad at letting go, I let go of all kinds of things, but coming to the realization that my uncle, the man who raised me, the man who chose me when no one else would,is gone…that’s something I don’t know how to contend with yet. “I just hate watching people paw through it all like it’s junk,” I say, my voice low. “These things mean something. Like those binoculars, he had them out in the field when we were hunting together. That vinyl those kids are laughing at, he liked playing it when he had his coffee in the morning.”
She smiles, soft and sadly. “You’re grieving. Maybe you weren’t ready for this. I can handle the rest of the day.”
“No,” I stand and flatten my shoulders, “I can handle this. If anything, you should be resting. I hear the objective. Sell everything.”
“The objective is to move on, sweetheart.” My aunt stands from the chair opposite me and shuffles in for a hug, landing her fragile frame against my chest with a sigh. “Life moves on.”
I hear what she’s saying, and I nod in support, but for some reason my brain doesn’t want to comprehend the truth of it.
She pulls back from the hug and stares up at me, blue eyes shining in the afternoon light filtering in through the shades. “You know that he’s a part of you, right? You act just like him.” A grin cracks through the grief. “You’re stubborn, you never ask for help, and your emotions sit behind your ribs under lock and key. Knowing he lives on in you gives me comfort.” The corner of her mouth lifts into half a smile. “And the truth is, deep down, the both of you would do anything to protect the people you love.”
“Wow,” I cross my arms over my chest in jest, “that’s quite the picture you painted. I sound like a real catch.”
“I think so. I fell for your uncle, didn’t I?”
I laugh under my breath and squeeze my aunt’s hand. “That’s because you’re unique, Aunt Vera. Not everyone has your palate for bitterness.”
“See… there you go again with the self-loathing. You just have to put yourself out there and meet someone. The right person will come along.”
“It’s not self-loathing. It’s realism, and realism isn’t cutting it on the dating apps.”
“Then get off dating apps and meet someone in real life.” She nods toward the bookshelf, where a woman in jeans and a red sweater runs her fingertip across every title slowly, as though she’s looking for something in particular. “Like that woman.”
“That woman looks twenty years younger than me.” I laugh and kiss my aunt on the head. “You’re trying to get me in trouble.”
“So what if she’s younger than you? I was fifteen years younger than your uncle.”
“And look how that turned out.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not too old to spank your bottom. Now go talk to that girl. Her name is Holly. She works at that little old bookstore on Chestnut Lane. Single mom.” My aunt taps me on the arm. “She makes your favorite banana bread.”
My brows wrinkle. “I thoughtyoumade that banana bread?”
Aunt Vera smirks. “Dear… think about that for a second.”
“My life is all lies,” I say playfully. “What will you tell me next? Is your lasagna from the Italian spot off Main?”
She tilts her head to the side and raises her brows. I think it’s in good fun, but now I’m not sure. “I have a bad knee, and your uncle loved to eat. How else was I supposed to keep him satisfied? Now go to Holly and thank her for all the good bread.”
I blink at her, half laughing as I say, “I don’t know if I can now. I’m too disturbed.”
She leans in, light blue eyes gleaming. “You can call it whatever you want if it gets you moving. Holly is sweet and smart, and she’s got loads of ambition. I think you’d be good for each other.” Aunt Vera uses all ninety-seven pounds of herself to push me forward. “Tell her I sent you, and that I need more banana bread. The one with chocolate chips and the streusel topping.”
“You’re really committed to this banana bread story, aren’t you?”
Her eyes roll to the side. “I’m committed to seeing you get married and having some babies before I die. Now go.”
I’m moving, though I can’t help but wonder when I became the man that lets little old ladies boss me around. Then again, I guess it’s been happening for a while. The day Uncle Pat met Aunt Vera, I knew she’d be trouble. Thankfully, it was in the best possible way. I’m pretty sure she saved us from the bachelor pad Uncle Pat was curating.
I’m nearly to the woman at the bookshelf when she glances toward me with a smile that catches me off guard.
She’s pretty. Heart-stoppingly pretty. She’s pretty in a way that’s natural, soft, and genuine. That’s not easy to find anymore, and the way my body is reacting, it knows it too. I feel it in my chest. A sudden ache, sharp and unexpected.
“Are you looking for something in particular? My uncle enjoyed the classics. There are quite a few vintage titles in here.” I scan the mahogany shelf and pull out the first edition copy ofA Christmas Carol.
The woman’s face lights, giving my stomach another reason to absurdly ache.
“If my aunt would let me sell this properly, it would be worth—”
