“Wow, Lyn…” She exhales a heavy breath, scratching her manicured fingers across her forehead. “No one said you have to love him. Just have a good time. Get properly fucked because apparently you need it. Quit limiting yourself. Look how far it’s gotten you with your type.” She air quotes the last words.
“Ouch. Damn.” I rub my arm like she just punched it. “You’re brutal. Are you sure you’re not the one who needs a proper night in the sack?”
She laughs. “The world won’t stop if you let loose. Try it. Go rogue. Be reckless.”
“My last two relationships ended the same way. I don’t do casual hookups. Scratch that. I can’t do them. Apparently my heart is attached to my vagina. I want to take some time out for me. I need to be good enough for me before I can be good enough for someone else. I need to fix my broken parts so I can give someone my all.”
“There’s noth—” She stops and a deep frustrated growl rips from her throat. “I want to get my hands on your piece of shit mother and strangle her for causing you all this. You are good enough to be loved. More than enough. You’re a damn gem, Lyn and I wish you’d see it.”
My mother proved I wasn’t worth loving, nor was my brother or my father. A mother’s love is supposed to be tender, powerful, pure, devoted, and unselfish. Instead, she walked away from her family twenty years ago and never looked back. We meant nothing. We weren’t good enough for her. She abandoned us. So if she couldn’t try, why would anyone else want to?
“So drinks and dinner tomorrow?” I reroute the conversation. Talking about her will only bring me down.
Her expression softens. “Of course.”
Who knew the act of picking out spaghetti noodles was so arduous? I’ve been standing and staring at the same noodles for what feels like a damn eternity while everyone passes by us as if we’re the store’s new permanent fixtures.
“Dotty. They’re noodles. Grab one.” I speak through a gritted smile.
“Why’d they get rid of the kind I use? I was content with mine.”
“I don’t know.” I pick up a box and hold them out. “I’m sure these are just as good.”
Noodles are noodles, right?
“I know why they got rid of them. I haven’t made spaghetti in so long, God took them away. He cleared up space on the shelves.”
“I’m certain there were no divine interventions on the shelves of the grocery store.”
Her hazel eyes narrow as they slide over my face. “That man works in mysterious ways. He knows things we couldn’t understand. Maybe this is a sign I shouldn’t make spaghetti.”
Please, Lord, grant me the patience today.
“We spent fifteen minutes picking out the right tomatoes. I will not allow you to change your mind on dinner and start over. God doesn’t care if you make spaghetti. He’s probably thrilled about it.”
“Do you really make your spaghetti sauce from a jar? That’s horrible.”
Just a little more, Lord.
“It’s quick and easy. I can add seasonings to make it taste good,” I reply, still…staring…at…noodles.
“Nonsense. Nothing tastes as good as homemade. I started cooking for my family when I was nine. Ma and Margy, rest their souls, brought our food in from the garden. Pop hunted our meat.”
“Welcome to 2020, Dotty. Those days are long gone and today is filled with preservatives and not enough time in a day. Now. Could you please pick some noodles?”
“Everyone’s in a rush to die,” she grumbles, finally pointing to the box I grabbed when we first stopped here over a hundred years ago.
What’s scarier than a murderous clown in the sewers? Dotty on a motorized shopping cart. She’s almost taken out the end of three aisles, four displays—succeeding in one with chips—multiple toes including mine, and when the automatic doors didn’t open fast enough she about made the store a drive through had I not grabbed her brakes. I was smart enough to have the taxi wait until she was stopped before pulling up beside us.
You should have a license to operate these things.
The cabbie was awfully sweet and helped us carry in the groceries, but he was met with a shotgun and a threat of a bullet hole between the eyes if he stepped into her apartment. I tipped him extra and sent him on his way. Dotty may look and be sweet, but she’s also as mean as a starved junkyard dog. As for her gun? It doesn’t have ammunition, but you don’t know that when the barrel is pointed at you.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” I ask, putting away the last bag.
She waves off my offer. “I know what I’m doing. Besides. I don’t need you here if John decides to have dessert before dinner.” She waggles her brows.
“Dear Jesus,” I groan, dropping my face into my hands.
“Just because you get to my age doesn’t mean the sex drive diminishes. I’ve got the engine of a twenty-year-old. It’s purring and ready for an oil change.” Straight face, no remorse, or embarrassment in sight.
“Ted had his hands full with you. Didn’t he?”
Her face lights up. “You better believe it. We were always—”
“Nope.” I hold my hands up stopping her. “No details needed.”
She titters. “We slowed when Thomas was born, but picked back up where we left off a few months down the road. Can’t believe I didn’t stay pregnant, but the Lord only wanted me to have one.”
“Did you ever want more kids?” I take a seat on the couch.
“A little girl would’ve been nice. Before Thomas died in the war, he gave me a few grands and I got a girl. Elizabeth is precious and that wild brother of hers is a spitting image of their father.”
I’ve met them a few times over the years. Mainly during the holidays. She’s a doting grandmother. Pictures of her family are placed throughout her apartment and she glows when she talks about them.
“You got me too,” I chirp.
She beams. “That I did. Which begs the question. When will you be giving me grands? I’m not getting any younger.”
“Pffft. You’ll outlive us all.”
“Lord, I hope not. I’m in no rush, but the world is a crazy and evil place. Plus, I want to hug my husband and son again.”
My phone pings with the name of the place Lucia wants me to meet her. “I’m meeting Lucia for drinks,” I grab her water and refresh it.
Dotty places her hand on my arm when I set her glass on the table beside her recliner. I’m met with warm, sugary love in her eyes. “I know your mother leaving hurt, but one day I hope you’ll let those scars be a display of strength. You’re a good girl, Pea. Your mother is a coward for leaving and a damn idiot for not looking back. She’s missing out on one remarkable woman.”
Tears spring. “Thanks, Dotty.”
“I mean it. Your pop did a great job raising you on his own. Don’t let that witch’s errors distort your life. Grow from her mistakes and do better.”
“You’re killing me.” I sniffle, wiping the tears from under my eyes.
“Love you, Pea.” She pats my arm.