The sound of a car door slamming woke me up abruptly...
...and opening my swollen, stinging eyes a crack, I squinted over at my alarm clock.
9:07 a.m.
And then, as I heard the car's motor start, I realized that it was Sunday morning...
...and Grandad was leaving for church...
...without me.
This event was absolutely unprecedented, and for moment thought I might be dreaming again; but then it occurred to me that, after seeing how upset I'd been yesterday, he had decided to let me sleep in.
Last night's torrential rain hadn't subsided in the least, which explained why he was taking the car; on nice mornings, since our church is only four blocks from his house, we'd usually walk there.
I spent the next several minutes massaging my tightly-knotted neck and scalp...non-stop...but it had no effect whatsoever on my screaming headache...
...but that, as agonizing as it felt, was nothing compared to the excruciating emptiness in my chest.
I couldn't believe what had happened last night.
It was over.
I'd thought that she and I were going to be together...
...for the rest of our lives...
...but now it was over.
And she was the one who had ended it...
...shutting me out of her her heart...
...and out of her life...
...forever...
...without telling me that she was sorry...
...and without even saying 'goodbye'.
Howcould she have done it? After more than eight years, how could Sam hav-
Before I could finish asking this unbearable question, let alone come up with an answer, my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by another sound...
...a much quieter, and somewhat muffled one.
One which was coming from somewhere down on the floor...
...and, suddenly, I realized what it was.
My phone was vibrating.
Rolling (with difficulty) onto my stomach, I leaned to my left, and then looked over the edge of the bed...
...to see my phone, exactly where I'd dropped it, lying face-up...
...and, from its illuminated display, I realized that it was Sam who was calling me...
...but at that same moment, I also realized that I had absolutely no desire to talk to her.
Not after last night.
Not after what she'd deliberately done.
Nevertheless, after only a moment's deliberation, I (reluctantly) turned it on anyway, and held it to my ear...
...and waited in silence.
There was a short pause, and then, tentatively, I heard her say, "Carls?"
"Yes?" I replied...
...immediately and coldly.
Another few seconds of silence followed, but then she took a deep breath and continued...
...with a horribly-resolute determination in her voice, "There's something I...have to tell you."
"Don't bother," I answered...
...again rudely...
...attempting to hide my indescribable pain behind an (hopefully) impenetrable shield of indifference and contempt, "I think you made things perfectly clear last night."
"How could I have?" she asked, "...when I didn't even call y-"
"Exactly!" I shouted. "You didn't! Why didn't you call me, Sam? Why?"
Without hesitation, she began, "Because-"
"I left you message after message! Why didn't you call me?" I demanded again.
Again, she stated, "I couldn't be-"
"You couldn't be bothered?" I interrupted loudly. Well, maybe now I can't be bothered!"
"What's...that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like!" I shot back.
She was silent again...
...but only for a few seconds more, before continuing, ""Listen, Carls-"
"No, Sam, you listen...to this!" I yelled...
...hanging up on her immediately...
...and instantly regretting it...
...while thinking, what did I just do?
What the hell did I just do?
Oh, no...oh, God, NO!
I've just made things between us far, far worse! She already wants to break up with me...
...and now, if she had any doubts whatsoever about her decision, I've just destroyed them...completely!
And, even worse, now I have no way of calling her back! Even if I use a public pay phone, she's going to recognize the Yakima area code...
...and now, after what I just did, there's no way she's going to answer it!
And, suddenly, I knew that the time for wishes was long past...
...which meant that it was time to pray.
Sitting up (with difficulty), I ignored the crippling pain in my head as best I could; and then, bending forward, I hunched over my phone and began rocking back and forth...
...trying hard not to cry, as I closed my eyes and said out loud, "Lord, I'm so sorry! I never should have hung up on her! It's just that...she's hurt me so badly! And, all these h-horrible things have happened to me, and keep happening to me...over and over again...and I have no idea why! But still, I know that shouldn't have hung up, because I can't live without Sam in my life! You know I can't! I d-didn't even try to talk her out of leaving me...and now it's probably too late! Please, Lord, just let her call me, just one more time...please, I'm begging You to let her-"
At that moment my eyes snapped open...
...because my phone was vibrating...
...and after saying a hasty 'thanks and amen', I gratefully clapped the phone to my ear...
...and yelled, "What do you want now, Sam!"
"W-well," she replied, then hesitated momentarily, "...like I told you earlier, there's something I need to say to you...something bad." There was another short pause, as she apparently gathered her thoughts. "I...wish I didn't have to tell you this-" she finally continued...
...but I wasn't having it.
"Why are you doing this?" I demanded, instantly cutting her off. "I already know what you're going to say!"
"H-how do you know?" she asked.
"You know exactly how I know! Because actions speak louder than words!" I snapped...
...feeling more than a little guilty, as I did, for not properly showing my gratitude that she'd actually called me back...
...but still, completely unable to stop acting so obnoxiously defensive, because of the way she'd destroyed my heart last night...
...and was about to again...
...forever.
"Carls, look-" she began again.
"No, Sam," I interrupted, "you look! Why are you insisting on adding insult to injury? I already know that you're about to-"
"Carls, I'm no happier about this than you are," she broke in. "It isn't an easy thing for me to tell y-"
"Oh, yes it is!" I screamed. "Do you think it's easy for me? Your part is easy! You're the one who made the decision to-"
"Let me know when it's my turn to speak," she stated, in a tone of voice which clearly revealed that she was becoming annoyed.
"I don't want to hear what you're going to tell me, Sam...I can't hear it! Don't you understand how badly you're hur-"
"Still...I have to," she replied. "It's the responsible thing to d-"
"Then why didn't you call me last night, Sam...why!"
"I-" she began.
"I left you message after message after message!" I yelled.
"I couldn't be-"
"Oh, that's right," I shouted, cutting her off again, "...because you couldn't be bothered!"
"Let me know when it's my turn to spe-"
"Okay, then...go ahead and tell me!" I snapped. "Go on! Let's get it over with!"
This demand was followed by a long, stretched-out silence...
...on both ends of the phone line.
Finally, Sam broke it.
"Okay, I...wish I didn't have to have to tell you this, Carls," she began...
...but then, she hesitated for a moment...
...while I, shutting my eyes as tightly as I could...
...grabbed onto the edge of my nightstand with my free hand...
...ready to throw my phone across the room the instant she'd finished...
...hurling it with such force that it would break into countless, tiny pieces...
...which wouldn't matter anyway, because I wouldn't be needing a phone anymore.
"Look, Carls, I..." she began again...
...while I, immediately regretting having given her permission to say it, shouted, "Sam, no! Don't do this!"
"It's...already done," she stated flatly.
"Then, let's undo it!" I urged.
"I...can't," she answered.
"Why not?" I demanded.
She paused for a moment and then said slowly, "I can't because...and you know this as well as I do...that it's...it's...not there anymore."
"It is!" I screamed. "It is there!"
"I'm sorry, Carls...but it's not...and even if it was...I...don't want it anymore."
"H-how can you say that!" I yelled.
"Be...cause, it's not salvageable."
"It is! It is salvageable, Sam! You know it is...if you'll only try!"
"No, Carls," she answered...
...with heart-breaking finality. "It's not. And I don't want to try now."
"Please! Please, Sam, let's just try!" I begged.
"No. I'm not going to...because I don't want-Carls...are you drunk?" she asked suddenly.
"No!" I shouted. You know that I never dr-...wait...why do you think I am?"
"Because," she explained, "if you weren't, then you'd understand why I'm saying this."
"I don't!" I yelled. "I'll never understand it!"
"You're...sure you're not drunk?" she persisted.
"No!" I repeated...
...just as angrily. "Why do you think I am?"
"Because...well then, why did you say that you already knew what I was about to tell y-"
"All I want you to tell me, Sam, is...why won't you just try?"
Without even stopping to reflect on my question, she answered, "Because even thinking about it makes me want to throw up."
"How can you say that?" I half-sobbed...
...at this latest, vicious slap in the face. "Don't you think you've already hurt me enough?"
"I-"
"Fine!" I yelled, suddenly desperate to get it over with. "If you are so determined to say it, then just say it!"
"But-"
"Start from the very beginning, Sam! Go ahead! Don't take my feelings into consideration! And make sure you don't leave anything out!" I shouted.
"But-"
"Go ahead...from the beginning!"
"I just tried to...but you keep interrupting me."
"JUST SAY IT, SAM! LET'S GET IT OVER WITH!"
She exhaled audibly, and then, began, "Okay. I have something to tell you...something bad."
"And?"
"And it's not easy for me to say, Carls."
"And?"
"And...it's unfortunate...but what's done is done."
"Then why don't you stop fucking around and just do it?" I yelled.
"Do what?" she asked.
"Stop dragging your feet! Just say it, Sam! Since you're so hell-bent on hurting me even more than you already have! Just tell me why you're calling! And why you keep insisting that it's not there anymore! And that you don't want it now! And that it's not salvageable!"
"Because it's not," she replied. "Both the salami sub and the potato salad have mayo in them; and the chocolate mousse is mostly dairy. It's all been sitting out in the hot July sun since yesterday. Eating it now is a guaranteed trip to Salmonella City...if it's even there anymore, which I'm sure it's not. And, even thinking about eating rancid meat and mayo makes me want to throw up!"
"That's not what you were about to tell me!" I yelled hysterically. "You're just losing your nerve and making up some B.S. story to stall for time!"
"I'm...not," she answered...
...sounding bewildered.
"Yes, you are!" I shot back.
"Well then, what do you want me to say, Carls?" she asked...
...and I, now uncontrollably distraught, screamed, "The real reason you're calling...to break up with me!"
"Break up with you?" she yelled. "I'm not calling to break up with you! I'm calling to tell you that yesterday, I was so frustrated that I threw your bag of groceries away!"
"Wh-wh-at?" I spluttered...
...sure that, due to hysteria-induced wishful thinking, I'd heard her wrong.
"I'm not calling to break up with you...I'm calling to tell you that yesterday I threw your bag of groceries away!" she repeated...
...but I, still not believing her, demanded, "Then why won't you tell me why you didn't call me last night?"
"I've been trying, for the past twenty minutes," she answered, "but you refuse to let me! How can I, when you won't even let me finish a senten-?"
"Because, I'm upset, Sam!" I screamed.
"See?" she blurted out, "There you go again!"
This observation from her was followed by a long, drawn-out stretch of silence...
...and after nearly a minute, I asked, worriedly, "Sam, are you still there?"
"I am."
"Look," I faltered, "I'm...I'm going to stop interrupting you now...I promise. Just tell me what happened."
I had to wait for more than a minute...
...but finally, convinced by my silence that I was being sincere, she took a deep breath and began, "Okay. Yesterday morning, when I got to the park and hid, I set my phone to 'vibrate,' so I wouldn't draw attention to myself and blow my cover; and then, when I saw you, across the street, I figured that I wouldn't need the phone anymore, so I put it in my backpack. Anyway, I stayed there until I saw you and your grandad get into the car; and, since you were leaving, there didn't seem to be any point in hanging around anymore, so I left, too...and headed straight back home."
"Didn't you check your messages while you were on the bus?" I asked...
...still highly skeptical.
"No," she admitted. "I...fell asleep. After what I saw, I figured that you'd be spending at least the rest of the morning with him, which meant you wouldn't be able to talk openly anyway; so I decided to try calling you as soon as I got back to Sea-"
"Then...why didn't you?" I asked...
...forgetting that I'd promised not to interrupt...
...but still, she willingly continued, "By the time I got back to Seattle, I had to pee like crazy, and the bus station bathrooms are way beyond disgusting, so I ran six blocks to my place. Anyway, when I got in, my mom was sprawled on the living room couch. I threw my backpack onto the coffee table and ran past her, like a maniac, sprinting for the bathroom; but before I was even halfway down the hall, she yelled at me to come back into the living room...immediately! I didn't want to because my eyeballs were floating, but I did anyway; and then she started flipping out on me, for not telling her where I was going, and asking me endless questions about where I went...and why. By the seventh one, I absolutely couldn't wait any longer, so I blew her off and tried to run the rest of the way down the hall but I..." her voice trailed off.
"But what?" I prompted her impatiently.
"I...can't tell you, Carls. It's uh...embarrassing."
"Why?"
"Remember how I said I was running to the bathroom because I desperately needed to pee?" she mumbled.
"Yeah."
"Well, as it turns out, I...I...didn't...make it."
"Y-you mean you...you peed your pants?" I asked...
...completely shocked.
"Did you have to say it!" she snapped.
Not wanting to humiliate her further, I didn't answer.
After a long (and I'm sure highly-embarrassed) silence, she finally continued, "Yeah, I uh...did. So, I took the world's fastest shower and ran into my room for clean clothes...and then ran back into the living room to call you; but when I got there, my backpack was still lying on the coffee table...but it was wide open...and Mom was gone...and so was my phone."
Not comprehending, I asked, "You mean she...why would she take your phone?"
Sam sighed audibly, and then explained, "Two nights ago, at the Rock Bottom Bar, on Bayview Street, she was in the bathroom throwing up; and while she was leaning over, her own phone fell out of her jacket pocket and into the toilet...and needless to say, between the water and her hundred-proof vomit, it was ruined. But still, she never asked to borrow mine."
"Well then, as soon as you saw she was gone, why didn't you try to find her...and your phone?" I demanded.
"I wanted to...but there are over a thousand bars in Seattle, and she's been thrown out of so many of them, that I had no idea where to even begin looking. Anyway, I've been sitting up, awake, for the past seventeen hours, waiting for her. She just walked in the front door ten minutes ago, and I immediately took my phone away from her...forcibly," she concluded...
...but her explanation did absolutely nothing to lessen either my overwhelming pain...
...or my anger.
"I left you message after message!" I yelled.
"Carls...I'm really sorry that this happened...I swear I am...but, just because I wasn't able to call you last night...didn't you think that maybe something had happened? And that I couldn't call you because of some emergenc-"
"Well, at first," I admitted, "...but-"
"But what?" she urged. "Why would you ever think, just because I wasn't able to call you, that I want to break up with-"
"Sam," I half blurted, half sobbed, "...she blocked m-me from c-calling y-your phone!"
There was a short stretch of profound, stunned silence, but then Sam bellowed...
...at the top of her lungs, "She WHAT!"
The next sound I heard was her phone hitting a hard surface, followed by the sound of her feet thundering down the hall...
...and into her living room.
"Hey!" she yelled at her mother...
...loudly and furiously, "What the hell did you do with my phone last night?"
Mrs. Puckett's speech was noticeably slurred as she replied, "Jeez...how many times do I have to tell you? I only borrowed it!"
At this, Sam shouted, just as loudly, "You had no right to bl-"
"Listen," Mrs. P. cut her off, "...remember that guy Craig I told you about? The one with the huge...well, anyway, I needed to be near a phone so he could contact me. We were supposed to hook up, right after the rehearsal."
"Still, you had no right to blo-" Sam fell silent for a moment, then asked, perplexed, "What do you mean 'the rehearsal'? What rehearsal?"
"His rehearsal dinner," he mother replied. "I told him to blow it off, but his fiance' was insisting, so..."
"Still," Sam interrupted angrily, "you had no right to bloc-wait a minute!" Again, she stopped speaking, but, after a few moments of confused silence, continued, "Wait...you're telling me that you were trying to hook up with someone...who's going to be married in a couple of days? What the hell were you thinking?"
Mrs. Puckett, not needing ponder her answer, immediately replied, "The same thing I'm thinking right now; that, technically, he's still single...and will be until ten o'clock tomorrow morning, so I'm going to need your phone again to-"
"You had no right to block Carly's number!" Sam finally managed to get out...
...as loudly as she could.
"Oh, is that who was calling...over and over?" Mrs. P. replied, sounding mildly annoyed.
"You didn't even bother to check?" Sam yelled.
"No," Mrs. P. replied dismissively, "why would I do that?"
Now sounding way past enraged, Sam bellowed, "Did it ever occur to you that maybe it kept ringing because there might be an emergency? I can't believe this! What were you thinking?"
Without missing a beat, Mrs. P. replied, "I was thinking, how is Craig ever gonna get in touch with me, when the line is constantly being tied up, by some pest who keeps calling every five min-"
I didn't catch the rest of her sentence...
...because it was drowned out by the sound of Sam swearing...
...screaming a string of obscenities so long, and so foul, that I can't possibly print them here. This was followed directly by the sound of something large and made of glass shattering against a wall...
...which was immediately followed by Mrs. Puckett yelling, "Hey! You're gonna pay for that!"
"For that piece of crap?" Sam yelled back. "No problem...I have twenty-five cents right here!"
"A quarter?" Mrs. P. sneered. "Is that all your johns are paying you these days?"
"Well, at least mine are paying me," Sam shouted, "...which is more than I can say for yours! Which reminds me, Mom, it's a real shame that, when you're out working your street corner, you don't charge by the pound, because we'd make a fortune!"
I'm not sure what either of them said next...
...because they both began screaming rapidly...
...at the top of their lungs...
...and, rolling my eyes, I glanced over at my alarm clock.
Exactly seven minutes later, there was a sudden, momentary, mutual silence; and then I heard a door slam, and Sam yelling, "And who's gonna pay for all that damage to the front door...from where it just hit your massive ass?"
Apparently, Mrs. Puckett couldn't or wouldn't reply...
...because there was another short stretch of silence, and then I heard Sam's footsteps rapidly approaching, and her picking the phone up again.
"Carls, I'm so sorry...about all of this-" she began...
...but I was far from ready to forgive her.
"Sam...when you realized your phone was gone, why didn't you call me anyway..." I demanded, "from another phone?"
"Because all of the pay phones in my neighborhood have been broken into, so many times, that the phone company gave up on repairing them years ago," she reminded me...
...and then, after pausing for a long moment, she continued, much more haltingly, "And now...not one single tenant in my apartment complex will talk to me anymore...let alone let me in...not since the...you know...The Christmas Incident."
I knew exactly what she was referring to.
Without missing a beat, I said, "Well, I can't say that I blame them for not trusting your family now; I mean, I wouldn't either...not after what your mom did last December. Not after the way she swindled the entire building...wearing that Santa hat and going from door to door, collecting for that bogus charity."
"Hey!" Sam yelled, sounding highly indignant, "That charity wasn't bogus...it was legit!"
"Sam!" I exclaimed, "She told everyone she was collecting for the A.S.P.C.A.!"
"But, Carls, she was collecting for the A.S.P.C.A...Assorted Stuff Pucketts Can't Afford!"
Before I could process this revelation, let alone come up with any kind of response...
...she added, "And besides, that judge was a completely unreasonable jerk-wad...how did he expect her to pay back all fifty-seven of those donors,...from behind bars?"
I had no answer.
"Look," she continued, "I never had any intention of breaking up with you...and I'm really, really sorry that-"
"No, Sam," I interrupted...
...now highly ashamed at having been so presumptuous...
...and so vicious to her, continuing much more slowly, "...I'm the one who's sorry. Please, please don't hate me for-"
"Shh," she replied. "Listen, I'm going to hang up now-"
"No! Please don't!" I begged. "I don't want you to-"
"Just let me finish," she answered. "Right now, we're both yelling at each other and being completely irrational, and you know that nothing good could possibly come of it."
"I...know," I admitted, without even having to think the matter over.
"So," she continued, "I'm going to hang up now. As soon as I do, I'm going to unblock your number...and then we're going sit quietly for ten minutes and pull ourselves together...both of us...and then I'm going to call you, and you and I are going to start this whole conversation over again...the right way...agreed?"
"A...greed," I conceded.
"I'll call you back in ten minutes," she repeated.
And then, without another word, she hung up...
...and, suddenly realizing that I couldn't sit quietly for ten minutes...
...because of how badly I needed to pee, I got out of bed quickly...
...immediately wishing that I hadn't...
...because my entire body felt like it had just been slammed into by a bullet train.
Still, I managed to stagger to the door, and then down the hall...
...and less than a minute later, I was in the bathroom...
...hating the way the now-sticky crotch of my still-soaked panties clung to me as I pulled them down...
...and, less than a minute later, I was sitting on the toilet...
...crying out loudly...
...at the unbearable sting between my legs...
...as the stream of hot urine came into contact with my badly-abused vagina...
...burning me so badly that it felt exactly like I was peeing battery acid.
The instant I had finished I was bending forward, breathing heavily from the pain; with my eyes closed, my elbows on my knees, and my head bowed...
...now clearly smelling the strong, stale, pervasive odor of my unfinished arousal...
...momentarily grateful that the fire in my vulva had subsided slightly, but now acutely aware of another, equally agonizing, pain in my pelvic region...
...caused by every achingly-tight and stiff muscle in the area...
...a horrible reminder of my failed attempt to orgasm.
Opening my eyes, I looked down. My underpants were a mess...
...liberally smeared, front to back, with the thick, whitish smegma my body had produced last night...
...and stained with a few faint streaks of blood, from where I'd injured myself badly...
...but I also realized that there was no time to change them...
...because my phone was ringing...
...and so, cringing, I pulled them back up..
...doing my best, as I did, to ignore the highly-unpleasant, pasty wetness between my legs...
...and the still-intense, searing pain from having urinated...
...and the hard, persistent ache of last night's interrupted arousal...
...as I limped, as quickly as I could, back up the hall….
...and seconds later, wincing, sat down on the edge of my bed.
Turning my phone on...
...I instantly heard, "I love you, Carly Shay."
"I...love you too," I answered immediately...
...and with a noticeable catch in my voice. "And...I'm so sorry...about everything that happened yesterday.
"I'm...not sure what happened," she said slowly.
"It was all my fault!" I blurted out. "Grandad insisted on giving me a ride, and I asked him to drop me off right in front of the florist shop! It never occurred to me that he would watch me walk in, and then would then put two and two together and figure out that I...and I'm so sor-"
"Shh, Carls," she cut me off, "it's okay."
No!" I yelled. "It's not okay! I know that I ruined everyth-oh, why did this happen, Sam? WHY? We were being so unselfish! Both of us! So, why didn't w-we get our w-w-w-"
I couldn't continue...
...but less than a minute later, Sam interrupted my sobs, by saying, very slowly, "Carls, you're wrong about that. You did get your wish...and so did I."
"Wh-what?" I asked, incredulous. "H-how can you possibly say that?"
She answered my question with a question.
"What were your exact words when you made your wish?"
Not believing that she'd even asked, I replied, "How can you have forgotten, when you wished for exactly the same thing? I said I wish I coul-"
And then, my voice halted instantly...
...as the revelation hit me...
...like a sudden plunge into an icy ocean...
...and I gasped, "Oh, my God, Sam...oh, NO! I said 'I wish I could SEE you!'"
"And you did, Carls," Sam answered, "you did see me. And I saw you too...so it turns out that we got exactly what we wished for...both of us."
Now furious at myself for my incredible stupidity, and what it had cost me, I lamented, "But...oh, my God! Why wasn't I more specific! Why didn't I wish that we could spend the whole day together...alone...and that we'd-"
"Look," she interrupted, "it's going to be okay, so just calm down. It's not the end of the world. We'll try again next week...next Saturday."
"No!"I exclaimed. "W-we can't!"
"Don't worry about us getting caught, he'll never think to look for you at the cemetery again," she announced optimistically...
...but still, it was no solution.
"It's not going to work!" I wailed. "I can't try again...and I won't be able to...ever again! And that's because Grandad's going to be taking me to the club with him, every Saturday, from now on!"
"What?" she spluttered. "How did that happen?"
"Last night, at the dinner table, I was too upset to eat anything, so I just sat there; and after watching me for about ten minutes, he said that I've been moping around too much lately, and so we need to spend more time together...and that now, he's going to teach me to play golf!"
"No!" she yelled, obviously horrified.
"Yes!" I yelled back. "And now, after seeing how upset I was yesterday morning, he's been acting nicer to me, which means he's feeling guilty for ignoring me too much, which means that now, he's probably never going to let me out of his sight!"
There was a long stretch of silence, but finally Sam said, in her most encouraging voice, "Come on, there has to be some way for us to see...I mean, for us to spend time together."
"H-how?" I demanded tearfully.
After thinking the matter over...
...for nearly a minute, she replied, "Uh, I'm going to need some time to figure that out...so, when's the last time you ate anything?"
I didn't answer
"That long, huh?" she stated, comprehending the situation fully, and then asked me, "Okay, what's junkiest thing in the house right now?"
"Butter cookies."
Obviously approving, she said, "Excellent, so. go have a huge, non-nutritious breakfast, and then soak in a hot bathtub and try to relax, while I figure all of this out. I'll call you back within a couple of hours."
"But Sam, what about your breakfast?" I reminded her.
"Don't...worry about that; I...I have...more important things to think about," she answered slowly...
...and suddenly, I felt far worse than I already did...
...because I could tell, from both what she said and the way she said it, that she'd already finished off all of the food she'd found at my apartment...
...and it hurt me badly to realize that she was now going to be forced to skip yet another meal.
Fortunately, however, at that moment inspiration struck, and I asked, "Can you think while you're walking?"
"Of course."
"Good. I want you to empty out your backpack again."
"Why, Carls?"
"Just do it...and then head straight over to my apartment; and, when you get there, I want you to go into Spencer's bedroom. In the right-hand corner of the room, next to his dresser, there's a huge, antique, glass apothecary jar sitting on the floor. Every night, when he's emptying his pockets, he puts all of his quarters in there, so we'll always have change for the washers and dryers when we do laundry in the basement. Anyway, there's always a lot of extra quarters in it; and the other day I noticed that it looks like it's up to almost eighty dollars now...and I want you to take it...all of it."
"No!" she protested, without even stopping to consider, "I couldn't possibly take Spencer's mon-"
"Don't worry about that," I cut her off, "I promise you that I'm going to pay him back. Anyway, like I said, it's probably around eighty dollars; and if you shop carefully, that should buy you enough food to last for several days, until I can send you another money order. I can't today, because it's Sunday and my bank is closed, but first thing tomorrow, I prom-"
"No!" she cut me off. "I don't deserve that, either! Not after what I did yesterday, with the money you already gave-"
"Yes, Sam," I insisted...
...but still ended up spending the next four of five minutes arguing with her...
...until finally, either reassured or desperately hungry, she caved in. After promising me that she was going to head straight over there and take the money...
...and that she was going to call me back within a couple of hours...
...and that she loves me...
...I reminded her that I love her, too...
...every bit as much...if not more...
...and then we hung up; and I, as instructed, headed immediately to the kitchen...
...where I found an unexpected note from Grandad hanging on the refrigerator door...
...held in place with a magnet shaped like a carrot.
Having lunch and dinner with Mrs. Lippincott. Be back home some time this evening.
This was fantastic news; and, relieved to be free of him for most of the day...
...not to mention incredibly relieved that Sam wasn't breaking up with me, my headache began to subside enough to allow me to turn my attention to other things...
...such as the realization that my appetite had finally returned...
...and so, I spent the next twenty minutes putting a serious dent in my bag of cookies, which I washed down with two large glasses of milk.
Once I had taken as much breakfast on board as I possibly could, I headed down the hall and into the bathroom...
...realizing, as I did, that the very next order of business was to attend to the considerable, still-acutely-painful damage I'd inflicted between my legs the night before. After filling the tub with the hottest water I could stand, I stripped off, and then got in. With a sigh, I lay back and closed my eyes...
...but less than five minutes later, before I'd had a chance to wash anything, my phone rang...
...and jumping out of the tub immediately...
...I found myself wet, dripping, and naked, sprinting back up the hall and into my room.
Ignoring the rivulets of water that were coursing down my body...
...and collecting in a pool around my feet, momentarily, before sinking into the bedroom rug...
...I snatched my phone off the nightstand and saw that the caller was Sam...
...who, apparently, had come to some kind of solution to my problem...
...more than an hour early.
Without hesitation, I turned my phone on and held it to my ear.
"Carls," she began, sounding genuinely regretful, "the way I see it, you have only one option here."
"No!" I shouted immediately. "Don't say that the only way out is that I have to wait until Spencer gets back! I can't wait until September, Sam! I'll lose my mind!"
"Calm down," she answered. "that's not what I was going to say."
"Oh," I replied...
...in a very small voice.
Sam took a deep breath and then continued, "What I was going to say is...the solution to this is...you have to get your Grandad to forgive you, and to trust you again."
"That's impossible!" I exclaimed, not even bothering to stop and consider the feasibility of her proposal. "And besides," I continued, "even if I could, what would that solve?"
"You might be able to get him to bring you to Seattle early," she answered optimistically.
"He'd never-" I began...
...but she interrupted me, saying, "Didn't you tell me that he has friends here?" And that they've been pestering him to visit them?"
"Well" I answered slowly, "his old partner from the accounting firm, who retired four years ago, does occasionally ask him to come and visit."
"Perfect!" she interjected. "Look, if you can just convince him to visit that guy, he'll bring you with him, and then you and I could be together...even if it's only for a few days."
"That'll never happen, Sam," I argued. "Even if I could somehow pull something like that off, which I'm positive I can't, you know that he..." I paused for a moment...
...before continuing, "...he...doesn't want me to be around you anymore."
"He's never going to find out about it," she announced promptly.
"How are we going to manage that?" I scoffed.
"Well, you mentioned once that your Grandad has met Wendy...and that he likes her, didn't you?"
"Yes," I confirmed. "He did...and he does."
"Well then," she continued, "while you're here, just tell him, every day, that you're going over to her house, and I'll meet you there...and then we'll be able to hang out together."
Before I could object, pointing out that Grandad isn't that stupid, and definitely would catch on, she added, "Also, before he brings you here, as extra insurance, you and I are going to have a huge fight over the phone. When we do, we'll make sure that it's loud...and that he's in next room."
"Really?" I asked. "You and I are going to stage a fight?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "Scream at me that you hate my guts...and that you never want to talk to me again...and that I can drop dead. Hearing all of that is guaranteed to warm your granddad's heart...and to convince him that you want nothing more to do with m-"
"Sam," I interrupted, "as much fun as planning all of this is, I know that I'll never be able to pull it off. He's never going to forgive me for what hap-"
"Of course he will," she argued. "Look, didn't you say earlier that, after seeing how upset you were yesterday, he's been acting kinder to you...and more concerned?"
"Yes," I admitted.
"Well, then," she reasoned, "maybe it's because he's starting to realize that no one is perfect...and that you didn't really mean the things you said to him when you two fought...and that you're still his granddaughter."
"I...don't know," I answered, still far from convinced.
"What you need to do is to leverage those feelings of his...and that will cause him to forgive you."
"How am I supposed to do that?"
Sam thought the matter over for a moment.
"Well, you could start by being more proactive around the house. Start doing all of the cooking...and all of the cleaning; and, most importantly, try to fake an interest in his hobbies."
"WHAT?"
"Oh yeah," she added, "also, flatter him from time to time, but when you do make sure you're being honest and sincere...and believable."
"It's not going to work," I repeated dismissively.
"Got a better idea?" she challenged.
I didn't have to think it over.
"No."
"Okay, then, I'm going to let you go now; because I want you to go get back into the tub and try to relax," she announced, then added, "as soon as he he gets home, I want you to 'test the waters' by making a kind and sincere remark. If you look at him with sad eyes while you do, I'll bet you that he takes the bait."
Despite my reluctance, I agreed to try; and, after telling her that I'd report back soon, I hung up...
...still convinced that it was a lost cause, but willing to give it my best shot...
...but only because I'd promised her.
First things first, though. I needed to attempt (again) to reverse the punishment my poor body had endured the previous night...
...but, instead of lying around in the tub, I took a long shower instead; grateful as the hot water, pounding relentlessly on my neck and shoulders, helped to alleviate the last vestiges of my lingering headache.
My damaged vagina, however, was another story.
Even though I was being incredibly careful, I still bit my lip hard, with tears stinging my eyes, as I washed myself there...
...and, realizing that I needed to do something to quell the inflammation...
...immediately...
...before I was forced to endure the utter hell of peeing again...I dried off and then walked, naked, into the kitchen...
...and over to the window above the sink.
Ever since I can remember, Grandad has kept a large aloe vera plant there, on the windowsill...
...as a handy remedy for the occasional cuts and burns that go along with cooking.
After finding scissors in the kitchen drawer, I snipped a long, wide leaf from the back of the plant, where it would be less noticeable; and, after splitting it in half lengthwise, I got a teaspoon from the kitchen drawer and then headed down the hall and into my bedroom.
Still completely undressed, I sat down on my bed. Using the spoon, I scraped the raw aloe vera gel out of both sides of the leaf; and then, scooping it off the spoon and onto the fingers of my right hand, I lay down on my back...
...and, after bending my knees and spreading my legs, I reached down between them with both hands...
...and, wincing loudly, I used the fingers of my left one to spread my outer lips open...
...feeling the fire inside them intensify, burning white-hot, as my vagina came into contact with the air...
...and then, reaching over with the aloe gel-smeared fingers of my right hand...
...and while holding my breath, I used them to spread it carefully, yet thoroughly, over my raw, stinging clitoris.
The relief was instantaneous.
With a grateful sigh, I fell back against my pillow...
...and began attending to the rest of my lacerated vagina...
...and, as I continued rubbing the aloe vera in, ever so gently, along the entire length of my vulva's interior, the pain finally stopped...
...but less than a minute later, as I lay there with my fingers still moving, I felt another sensation...
...a very different one...
...a small, but unmistakeable tremor in the area...
...which was followed by a minor contraction slightly higher up in my lower pelvic region.
This was soon followed by another, stronger one..
...one which radiated from just below my navel, and coursed all the way down through both of my thighs...
...causing them to tremble...
...and, realizing what was happening, I immediately closed my eyes, picturing Sam sitting next to me...
...with her hands between my legs...
...as, very slowly...
...and very, very gently...
...I began to finger myself.
It felt so good.
Sam loves me.
She's still my girlfriend...
...and I know that she wants me to feel better...
...and I know what that means. I know now that I need to do what she asked of me months before.
Even though I want to wait for her, I know that she was right.
I need to have an orgasm.
I know that she wanted me to, and that, if she knew what was happening...and how guilty I feel that she isn't here with me...
...she'd still insist. She'd assure me that she desperately wants me to feel better...
...and that this doesn't really 'count' as my first time...
...and that, when we're together again, that will be my first time...
...and it will be with her.
And so, as reassured as if Sam had just said all of this to me herself...
...which I know for a fact that she would have, if I'd called her at that moment...
...I focused on my breathing, and on trying to relax...
...relieved, a minute or so later, to feel my body sinking more deeply into my mattress...
...and, encouraged, I began to move my gel-covered fingers, slowly and rhythmically, up and down the inside of my outer lips...
...being especially carefully around my still-sensitive clitoris...
...and, within minutes, my hips were beginning to shift on the mattress, as I felt my already stiff pelvic muscles beginning to tense up even more...
...due to the slowly-increasing intensity of my arousal. A few short minutes later, I noticed something else: My already-slick fingers were now beginning to slide even more easily along my vulva...
...and I knew why.
I was becoming wet...
...as my vagina's viscous secretions, mixing with the more sticky aloe vera gel that still covered my fingers, now caused them to glide effortlessly up and down the entire length of my vagina...
...and I loved the way it felt.
It was an indescribably delicious sensation...
...and one that caused the deepening waves of arousal already coursing, more and more rapidly, throughout my entire body, to intensify.
As my breathing turned noticeably shorter and more sporadic, I began to move my now-dripping fingertips in random swirls, around and across my clitoris...
...gasping loudly at how fantastic it felt...but then, only seconds later, I stilled them for a moment...
...just long enough to kick the covers, which were currently tangled around my lower legs, down to the end of the bed...
...so I could dig my heels firmly into the mattress...
...knowing that was about to happen to my body was going to be so incredibly violent that I was going to need to brace myself...
...as hard as I could.
Bending my knees completely and placing my feet flat against the mattress, I resumed gliding my fingertips over and around my clitoris, causing my entire body to begin trembling, non-stop, as my arousal escalated...
...and, now breathing heavily...I looked down at my hips...
...watching the way they were rising up sharply off the mattress every now and then, with every contraction that I felt in my pelvic region...
...as every muscle in my already-stiff and tight body continued tensing up...
...to the point of being so unbearably painful that I was ready to cry...
...but instead, I forced myself to endure it...
…knowing that utter release...and relief...were close...
...and, in preparation, I let my shoulders fall back against the bed again...
...realizing, as my head sank deeply into my pillow, that...finally...I was only a few minutes away from a desperately-needed, utterly-healing, earth-shattering org-
"Carly!" he called...
...suddenly and loudly. "Carly, where are you?"
Grandad's voice echoed down the hallway...
...and, hearing his footsteps following it...
...I realized that he was about to arrive at my room...less than five seconds later!
Yanking my hands from between my legs...
...I flew up off the bed...
...and over to my bedroom door...
...which I hadn't bothered to close!
After a split second of violent fumbling, I managed to snatch my bathrobe off the hook behind it and pull to it on...
...realizing as I did that I'd been so focused on what I'd been doing that I hadn't heard the car pulling up the driveway...
...or him coming into the house!
I had just finished hastily tying the belt when he appeared in my doorway.
"Is everything...okay?" he asked...
...and, completely incapable of speech, I merely nodded...
...but he just stood there, staring at me...
...and I absolutely could not read his expression...
...and that scared the crap out of me; because I know I looked guilty as hell.
And then, nervous at not knowing what he was thinking...
...and terrified at what he might be smelling...
...I tried to bridge the awkward silence by asking, "Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming home until this evening."
"While having lunch, I uh, spilled something on myself...so I had to come home and change," he answered, turning to face me fully...
...and revealing a huge red wine stain, on the lower-left side of his white dress shirt.
I stood staring at it, in disbelief, for almost half a minute...
...while wondering if he had, indeed, spilled it on himself...
...or if it had been thrown on him, by his nasty, drunken girlfriend.
The silence resumed, stretching on until I (nervously) added, "I didn't hear your car pull up."
"Mrs. Lippincott needed to borrow it," he answered, "so I got out at the far end of the driveway. She should be back from the pharmacy in just a few minutes."
"You let her borrow your car?" I asked...
...trying hard to keep the incredulous edge out of my voice...
...and to refrain from pointing out how rude it was of her to not even pull up the driveway before he got out...
...and also from pointing out the alcohol and automobiles definitely don't mix!
Instead of answering this question, however, he responded with one of his own.
"I was wondering if, since I'm going to be out all day, you're going to need any money for lunch or dinner?"
"No," I replied. "I was planning on making a London Broil sandwich for lunch, and sauteing some boneless chicken for dinner."
With an amiable nod, he turned away from the door and then headed to his room for a clean shirt...
...and suddenly, I decided that it was probably as good a time as any to give Sam's advice a try...
...after all, she did have a point...he had been acting nicer to me since yesterday...
...and he'd just shown concern that I had food for the rest of the day...so this might be a good opportunity to say-
Suddenly, my thoughts were cut short...
...by the sound of a car horn blaring...
...long and loudly.
Grandad's car horn!
And, like a trained dog, Grandad immediately emerged from his room, and ran up the hall...
...and, two seconds later, I was running after him.
The car horn blared again, just as loudly, as I got to the living room. Sprinting across it, I called, "Grandad!"
Fortunately, at that moment the horn stopped...
...as, right hand on the doorknob, he turned around and looked at me questioningly...
...and, feeling my cheeks reddening and my heart pounding, I took a deep breath said, "I just wanted to say that I realize that...you've always been very generous with me...and I just wanted to let you know...how much I appreciate it."
At this remark, Grandad was completely silent...
...but only for a few seconds, before replying angrily, "I'm sure that you do; as long as I keep an open wallet...and a closed mouth!"
And then, he was gone...
...and within seconds, I was frantically dialing Sam's number. After telling her what had happened...
...and that the whole 'forgiveness thing' was completely impossible...
...I waited in silence, eager for her to comfort me with sympathetic words...
...but, instead, her infuriating response was, "Aw, he's just cranky from spending the whole day around Violently Lickin-"
"Okay! Okay!" I answered testily. "But he doesn't have to take his hostility out on me!"
"Give it time, Cupcake." she replied. "Just give it time."
A few minutes later, we hung up; but even though my body was still aching unbearably...
...and utterly screaming for release...
...I didn't bother trying to whack off again.
I just wasn't in the mood anymore.
But anyway, beginning the very next morning, I ended up doing what Sam had asked of me...
...spending the next seven days cooking and cleaning, almost non-stop, for Grandad...
...and pretending to be interested while watching his crappy TV shows...
...and, most horrible of all, spending three afternoons with him that week at the park four blocks from his house...
...sitting next to him for hours on end, bored out of my mind, while watching him play chess...
….and while surreptitiously scanning all nearby trees, desperately hoping to see something more entertaining...
...such as squirrels mating...
...while wondering how I was ever going to get out of playing golf with him on Saturday...
...because that's where I draw the line!
Fortunately, inspiration arrived Friday afternoon...
...in the form of my period...
...so the following morning, even though I wasn't in any real pain, I told him (while curled up on my bed in the fetal position) that I had "Women's Troubles"...
...which is Grandad's euphemism for 'heavy flow and severe cramps'...
...and, to my surprise, he bought my excuse completely...
...and without, thank God, asking for details.
After he'd left, I had breakfast, and then went straight back to bed...
...because even though (aside from some unpleasant twingy-ness) I had no cramps...
...I did have a very heavy flow; and, between that and my painfully-unfinished attempt to orgasm, my entire pelvic area was so congested...
...and so bloated...
...and I was feeling so utterly exhausted...from all things menstrual and mental...
...that I just wanted to sleep the rest of the day away...
...and so I tried to, reasoning that there was no real point in getting up...
...especially since my lower stomach was so incredibly swollen that I'd never be able to zip my jeans up anyway.
And so, I spent the next several hours lying in bed...
...letting my mind wander aimlessly...
...passively thinking about everything and nothing...
...while doing my best to ignore the persistent, unfulfilled ache between my legs...
...rubbing my lower stomach from time to time, while wishing with all my heart that I had something warm (like Sam's body) to curl up around.
My listless daydreams were eventually cut short, early that afternoon...
...when Grandad returned home. After he got out of the car, I heard him coming into the house...
...and then up the hall...
...and, since I was lying on my right side, I soon saw him appear in my open doorway.
A second or two later, he walked through it...
...without an invitation...
...and with an oversized shopping bag in his hand...
...and, as he did, I saw that it was from the VCS Pharmacy.
After crossing the room to where I lay, he leaned forward, and reached down...
...and carefully pulled my covers off me...
...and then, without a word, he sat down next to me, on the edge of my bed...
...and, as I watched, he opened the bag he was holding,...
...and pulled out a new, large heating pad, with a light blue cover.
Leaning forward and reaching behind my nightstand, he plugged it in, and turned it on to 'High'...
...and then, he turned around to face me...
...and still not speaking, but with an expression of grave concern, he lay his right hand against the front of my left shoulder...
...and I willingly let him turn me over onto my back.
Setting the heating pad aside, he reached over with both hands, and pushed the bottom edge of my pajama jacket up a few inches, to the bottom of my ribcage...
...and then, after a very gentlemanly, moment's hesitation, he untied my drawstring...
...and I, suddenly and badly wanting to be cared for, lifted my hips for him...
...and he pulled my pajama pants down a few inches, to the top of my panties.
After a short, but unmistakeably sympathetic glance at how swollen I was, he placed the already-warm heating pad against my bare lower abdomen...
...as carefully and gently as if he had been my mother...
...and then, just as unexpectedly, he placed his right hand on top of it, letting it rest there for a long moment...
...before getting to his feet, pulling my covers back up, and walking out of the bedroom...
...all without saying a word.
Twenty minutes later...
...after the shock had worn off...
…I reflected, elated, on how I'd managed to get out of going to the club with him for the day...
...and then, between that and the sympathetic way he'd just taken care of me and my 'cramps', I suddenly (and surprisingly) felt optimistic. Maybe Sam was right...
...maybe there was hope for reconciliation...
...and for getting out of here before the end of the summer!
Since it was July, Grandad kept the central air conditioner on a pretty cold setting...
...so the heating pad's gradually-increasing warmth felt welcome and wonderful against my bare skin...
...and so, still lying on my back, I slipped its bottom edge inside the front of my panties, pushing it as far down as I could, to help hold it in place; and then for extra insurance, I closed the front of my pajama pants again, and re-tied their drawstring...
...and then, with a sigh of contentment, I turned back over onto my right side...
...loving the feeling of soft flannel pressed against my bare skin...
...and the way its penetrating warmth was slowly beginning to alleviate the dull ache of my swollen lower stomach...
...as, closing my eyes, I drifted off to sleep...
...thinking of Sam.
However, as it turned out, my celebratory mood was short lived. By Monday afternoon, the dark cloud that hung, persistently, over my head returned...because he was in another one of his foul moods...
...one which surfaced the instant we returned home from another agonizing afternoon of 'Chess in the Park'...
...to find his lawn and hedges even more badly butchered than usual. And his mower, as always, hadn't been put away.
"Bloody hell!" Grandad yelled, as he surveyed the damage. "That's it! I'm calling Roger right now, and having a talk with him about his son!"
"What are you going to say?" I asked, off-handedly and only slightly interested
"What I should have said over a year ago!" he snarled. "That I'm happy to pay, but he needs to teach Jason how to do yard work! Now, go get started on dinner...right away!" he added, in a particularly nasty tone...
...and then, instead of following me into the house, he headed around the back and out to the garden...
...and I rushed into my bedroom and called Sam.
She was silent as I explained his latest tirade in detail, but then, instead of sympathetic words of condolence, she replied, "Yes! He's mad at someone other than you, Carls...that's great!"
"But he's taking it out on me!" I protested. "AGAIN!"
"Look," she answered, "just give him a couple of days to calm down, and then try saying something nice-"
"I have been trying!" I informed her. "But it's not working!"
Sam was silent for a moment.
"Carls, I'm really sorry, but I've tried really hard to come up with some other way of getting him to cut you some slack...but I can't think of anything else at all."
"Neither can I!" I shouted. So it's pointless to even try!"
"Well, try again in a day or two anyway," she said encouragingly...
...but I had had enough.
"Don't you understand, Sam? No matter what I say or do, he's always in a foul mood! And that's never going to change!"
However, after much prodding on Sam's part, I promised to keep trying...
...and so I did...
...day after day...
...for an entire week...
...but still...nothing...
...nothing but silence or sarcasm.
However, by Saturday morning, things were looking much sunnier...
...because when I woke up, it was raining badly...
...which meant that Grandad couldn't drag me out to the golf course with him...again! Since playing in bad weather was out of the question, he and Rick decided instead to have an early lunch together at Fairmount, the club's private, members-only restaurant...
...which meant that I was off the hook...at least for one more week.
Relieved, I spent most of the morning and early afternoon doing laundry, and reading an old cookbook which I'd found in one of the kitchen cabinets. All things considered, it wasn't such a bad day...
...until that evening when, right after dinner, Grandad called me into the living room.
"Come on, it's TV time. The show starts in less than ten minutes."
"What's on?" I asked dis-interestedly...
...dreading the answer...
...and sure enough, he delivered.
"Republicanism in the French Revolution," he announced...
...sounding as excited as if he'd just found a nearly-naked Victorian Secrets model sitting on his couch.
Suppressing a sigh, I walked over to the couch and sat down beside him...
...mentally bracing myself, as I did, for two hours of non-stop, mind-numbing, soul-crushing boredom...
...but, just as Grandad reached for the remote, the doorbell rang.
Grumbling to himself, he got up and went to answer it...
...and, as he opened the door, I heard Mrs. Payne exclaim, "Oh Thank God, Everett! Thank God you're home!"
Exasperated, I rolled my eyes...
...wondering what trivial household problem she was over-dramatizing this time.
"Hello, Esther," Grandad replied, "you know, you could have just called and I'd have come right ov...Esther!" he exclaimed, suddenly sounding very concerned, What's wrong?"
Curiosity got the better of me; and, swiveling around, I looked over toward the door...
...to see Mrs. Payne, her face drained of all color, grab onto Grandad's arm and ask, "D-did you hear about Scott...Rick's son?"
"No," Grandad replied. "What about him?"
Her voice shaking badly, Mrs. Payne explained, "You know that, for the past year and a half, he's been doing inner city work, in the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood, in lower Manhattan?"
Grandad nodded.
"Well," she continued, "less than four hours ago, just after he'd left the Youth Center for the day and was taking a deposit of donations to the bank, he was attacked...at gun point! It happened across the street from a hair salon, and one of the employees there was looking out the window and saw it, and she said that there were four of them, and they-" she stopped speaking for a moment, and then, continued, half-sobbing, "and th-they shot him...five times!" Unable to continue, she paused for nearly a minute, and then added, "H-he was declared dead on arrival!"
"What!" Grandad gasped. "I...I was just having lunch with Rick this afternoon!"
"Oh, Everett...he was only twenty-one!"
Grandad stepped aside from the front door, saying, "Come in and I'll...make you some tea...and then I'm going to try to cal-"
"No...I can't. Rick and Emily have already left for the airport...and I have to go straight to his grandmothers house. She's staying home to watch their two girls."
"W-well, call me if you hear anything," he requested...
...and after assuring him that she would, Mrs. Payne walked back down our front steps.
Seconds later, Grandad closed the door, and crossed the room again, to where I was sitting...
...and I looked up at him...
...but, before I could say anything at all, he walked past the couch...and down the hall to his bedroom...
...shutting the door behind him.
The next morning being Sunday and sunny, we walked to church...
...in silence...
...with Grandad staring at his feet in silence the entire way.
Arriving about ten minutes early, we joined the other people who were milling around the crowded vestibule. As expected, none of Scott's family were there...
...but, within a minute or two, we were approached by Mrs. King, the organist.
She clearly was shaken.
"I can't believe this happened," she told my grandad. "Scott was such a sweet boy! His poor family! Oh, Everett, children are so precious!"
Grandad, after a second's hesitation, looked over at me and then replied, "Yes, Gladys, children are precious. If anything ever happened to-"
He didn't finish...
...but he didn't have to.
I'd heard the emotion in his voice...
...and the expression on his face during that fleeting glance in my direction spoke volumes...
...and, without another word, he reached over...
...and took me carefully by the hand...
...and, turning away from Mrs. King, he led me to our pew...
...where he sat, holding my hand between both of his own...
...staring down at it in silence...
...while lost deep in thought...
...finally releasing it when Reverend Wesley approached the podium and announced, "Good Morning to all of you, although, as I'm sure you know, it's also a very sad one. So, let's begin by observing a moment of silence for Scott, remembering what a fine young man he was...and then, please say a silent prayer, asking the Lord to bless and watch over his family during this difficult time."
I didn't know Scott. He'd been living in New York for a long time before I came to stay in Yakima; and even though Grandad knows his parents well, they never come over to the house, which means that I only saw and spoke to them at church once per week...
...but still, out of respect, I bowed my head and did as Reverend Wesley had asked; but even after I'd finished praying...
...the silence stretched on...
...endlessly...
...and as it did, I felt that something more was expected of me...
...something personal...
...and so, I closed my eyes again...
...and silently continued praying.
"You and I both know that I'm not perfect...but, You know that I try really, really to be...and even though he drives me crazy, I know that Grandad loves me...I know he does! And I...know I shouldn't have said the things I did...and I'm really really sorry about it. I know I hurt him...badly...and now I have no idea how to make things right. And he's so upset, and it's not just because of what happened to Scott...it's mostly my fault! And I...I wish so much that something would happen to make him happy, not so he'll stop being mean, but because everyone is entitled to some happiness in their liv-"
My request was cut short by Reverend Wesley saying, "And now, please turn to page 137 in your hymn books."
And I said a hasty 'thanks and amen'.
Right after the service ended, Grandad and I walked three blocks to Rick's house, to pay our condolences to his extended family. They fed us, and we ended up spending the rest of the afternoon there; until, at around four-thirty, he decided that we would head home.
Less than thirty minutes later, we were walking down our street...
...and then, just as we turned into the driveway...
...Grandad stopped dead in his tracks...
...and his jaw dropped...
...and, after following his line of vision, mine did too...
...as we both stared, speechless, at his front lawn...
...which, week after week, was a sloppy, unruly mess...
...but now, was perfectly manicured...
...and, even from where we were standing, it was easy to see that the hedges flanking his front door had also been immaculately trimmed.
And then, suddenly, he gasped...
...and I looked back over at him...
...to see that him looking down...
...so I did, too...
...noticing as I did how wet the asphalt was, even though there had been no rain...
...and suddenly, he was running up the driveway...
...and so was I...
….until, reaching its far end...
...we saw his car, obviously painstakingly clean and waxed, sparkling in the mid-July, late afternoon sunshine...
...and his lawn mower stored, for the first time ever, in the garage!
"Wow!" I exclaimed, turning to him. "Absolutely perfect...and a day early, too! I don't know what Jason's dad said to him...but he sure learns fast."
Grandad shook his head.
"There's no way that happened. No way. His father obviously did the landscaping himself...all of it." He walked slowly around his car several times, before adding, "And, after seeing how badly his son butchered my yard, he washed the car himself as well, to atone for the damage."
Despite our morose morning and afternoon, Grandad, now that his landscaping problem had been resolved (at least temporarily), spent the rest of the afternoon in an almost pleasant mood. Later that evening, right after he'd eaten my chicken stir-fry...
...without compliments, but also, thank God, without complaints...
...he called me over to the living room couch, stating, "We're in luck. There's a rerun of last night's show coming on. I'd be sorry if I'd missed it."
With a silent sigh, I approached the couch and sank down next to him...
...as my heart sank into shoes...
...because I still didn't give a rat's ass about Republicanism in the French Revolution...
...but before Grandad could turn the TV on, his phone rang.
Getting up, he walked over to the kitchen counter, where he'd left it, and I heard him say, "Esther? Uh, no, we've been home for a couple of hours...yes, of course I can spare a few minutes...what is it you wanted to tell me?" He was silent for nearly a minute and then, suddenly, he exclaimed, "What? You...you do? I...I'll be right over!"
A second later, he emerged quickly from the kitchen.
"What's going on?" I asked, concerned...
...but instead of answering...
...and while looking highly agitated, Grandad hurried out the front door...
..and, not wanting to waste a perfectly good opportunity, I immediately pulled my phone out and called Sam...
...but she didn't pick up, so I just left the message, "Hi, Grandad just stepped out. I'm not sure how long he'll be gone, but probably only for a few minutes; and then I have to watch a crappy TV special with him...but I'll call you afterward, if I can."
As predicted, Grandad walked back in the front door about fifteen minutes later...
...with a stunned expression on face...
...and with a piece of paper in his right hand.
Not just any paper, though. It was lavender, and covered on both sides with writing, in green ink. I couldn't read it from where I sat...
...but even from way across the room, there was no mistaking Mrs. Payne's hideous stationery...
...or her poison-green pen!
"Wow, are you building her a whole new house?" I asked.
"What...do you...mean?" he asked haltingly.
"That's some 'To Do' list," I pointed out.
"It's...not," he answered.
"Oh," I replied, "then it's her grocery shopping list?"
He shook his head.
"Uh...is everything...okay?" I asked.
"Mrs. Payne...said to tell you hello," he replied distractedly, folding the paper into thirds and sliding it into the inside pocket of his jacket...
...and walking toward the couch.
I hadn't turned the TV on yet, and so, with a silent sigh, I picked up the remote from the coffee table and held it out to him...
...but, not seeming to see it, he continued walking...
...right past me...
...up the hall, and into his bedroom, closing the door behind him...
...while I sat in silence on the couch...
...completely bewildered.
What the hell was that all about?
What could Mrs. Payne have possibly written that would leave Grandad so rattled?
But then, in one stroke of revelation, it dawned on me:
She had written him...A Love Letter!
Scott's death has Mrs. Payne thinking about how fragile life is...
...and how fleeting...
...and now, realizing how lonely she is, she's making a play for Grandad!
So that's what he had meant on the phone when he'd sounded so shocked and asked, "You do?"
She was telling him that she loves him!
I paused for a moment, confused.
But, Mrs. Payne has to know about Mrs. Lippincott...doesn't she?
And does Mrs. L. know about her?
And that she now has competition?
And will there be a huge cat fight?
And do they both hate each others' guts?
And was he 'getting any' I wondered...
...immediately dismissing that idea...
...knowing that, if he was, he'd be a lot less cranky and miserable!
For the record, I definitely wasn't the least bit thrilled with the prospect of Grandad ending up with either of them...
...after all, this was truly a classic case of 'Choose Your Poison'...
...but still, what did he think of them? And would the heady knowledge that he had two girls chasing him now improve his mood at all?
And how was the entire scenario going to play out?
The whole thing was very mysterious...
...yet incredibly entertaining...
...and, absolutely thrilled to have something other than my current, miserable existence to think about, I sprawled on the couch, and spent the rest of the evening pondering the entire situation...
...from every angle...
...while enjoying myself thoroughly...
...fully expecting Grandad to emerge from his room at any moment and ruin my fun.
But he didn't...
...and, as the hours flew by, I turned the entire, fascinating mystery over and over in my mind...
...so completely engrossed in it that I barely remember when I, exhausted yet somehow content, pulled the huge afghan throw from the back of couch...
...and over myself...
...and fell asleep almost instantly.