by Hazel James
“I’m standing on the front porch waiting for you to open the door,” her muffled voice says through the door.
Guess I said that out loud.
“Hey, Gran. Um. Won’t you come in?” I gesture to the living room and hold the door open for her. She’s not carrying pie, which is a damn shame.
“Thank you, dear.” She walks into the foyer and gives me a once-over. “It’s great to see you, but I have to say, you look like shit.” She pats me on the shoulder on her way to the couch.
Well then.
“Can I do something for you, Gran?” I still have no idea why she’s here. Or how she knew I was here. Or how she knew where here is. Damn, I should have paid better attention to that burglary story. How many victims actually knew their burglars? I can see the headline now: ‘Local Teen Robbed by Ex-Boyfriend’s Granny.’ I clutch the phone tighter, sit down on the chair opposite the couch and pull my knees up to my chest. Gran opens and closes her mouth a few times like she wants to say something but doesn’t know where to start.
“Rachel, you’re a lovely young lady.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re also stupid.”
Wait, what? Before I can even respond, she continues.
“But that’s okay, because there’s still time to fix it.”
“Fix what, exactly?”
“You and James.”
“He sent you here?” Getting your grandma to do your bidding is… I dunno. Creepy? Sweet? I set the phone down on the coffee table and rub my face.
“He has no idea I’m here.”
“So why are you here?”
“I know our moving came out of nowhere, but I honestly think it was an answer to a prayer.”
That’s my dad, answering prayers and ruining my life faster than a speeding checkbook. I don’t bother hiding my eye roll.
“Don’t you go getting mad at your daddy. He’s just doing his job. But now you kids are caught up in the middle of it, and you decided to cut and run. When you’re a teenager, it’s hard to see the big picture. It’s hard to look beyond what’s happening right now.”
“Gran, I actually have no problem seeing the big picture. That’s why I told James it wouldn’t work between us. For as much as I’d like to believe we could have a long-distance relationship, there are grown adults who can’t manage it. We’re seventeen, and the odds are stacked against us. Who am I to—”
Gran holds up a hand to shush me.
“All the things you’re fussing about? That’s what’s happening right now. You’re still missing the big picture.”
It’s official. I have no idea what this woman is talking about. She may be more senile than I thought. “I’m sorry. You lost me.”
“James said you never had a boyfriend because your daddy wouldn’t let you.”
“Right.”
“Wrong. You never had a boyfriend because no one was worth gettin’ your daddy’s feathers ruffled.” She look she gives me says ‘I dare you to tell me I’m wrong.’ Which I can’t. I never really thought about it that way, but she sort of makes sense.
“Moving on. James has never had a girlfriend until you.”
“He said it was because he moved around too much.”
“That’s partially true. Watching his mama chase men from coast to coast taught him more about disappointment than it did about love. He always said having a girlfriend wasn’t worth all that trouble.”
“What does that have to do with the big picture?”
“It’s the choice. That’s the difference between you and Sunny and all those other people whose relationships didn’t work out. It’s a matter of choosing whether that other person is worth it, but you each have to choose ‘yes.’ You had to choose between track and James. Which did you pick?”
I don’t respond, because she already knows the answer. She stares at me for several seconds before raising her eyebrow. Apparently, I’m in a pissing contest with a lady in her seventies.
“James,” I say with a sigh.
“Exactly. And he chose you. For as much as Sunny said she was settling down here, I don’t think that girl has a committed bone in her body. There was always a risk that she’d want to move again. But this time, James decided you were worth the trouble. That’s the big picture. Everything else is just what’s happening right now.”
“But what’s happening right now sucks. Having a boyfriend in high school is hard enough, let alone having one that’s five hundred miles away.” That came out a bit more petulant than I planned, but whatever. It’s still true.
“I never said it was going to be easy.” She gives me a pointed look, and all I can do is nod in response. “And furthermore, you need to let go of whatever checklist you’ve got in that head of yours.”
“Checklist?”
“Love doesn’t have pre-requisites. You don’t have to experience heartbreak and all that other mess you kids keep posting about on your smartphones. Love will find you, but you have to be smart enough to catch it when it does. The biggest heartbreak in your life shouldn’t be the one who got away. It should be the thought of him getting away.”
Why do I feel like I should grab the notepad off the refrigerator so I can write this stuff down?
“Now, there’s just one more thing.”
Oh, God. There’s more? I just want to shower, eat Dad’s sherbet, and figure out a way to skip school tomorrow without Mom dragging me to the doctor. “Yes?” I ask with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. Which isn’t much. My brain is too overloaded with ice cream and sage advice.
“Giving up track for James was stupid.”
“What? But you just said—”
She shushes me again. “I know what I said. I’m old, not stupid. Relationships are about compromise. Give and take. But don’t give up something you love for someone you love. That’s a sure way to lose your identity.”
“I quit track because I didn’t want to be an Olympic athlete. That’s my dad’s dream for me, not mine.”
“Would you have quit if James had never moved here?” She raises her eyebrow again. I don’t answer for several seconds, trying to figure out the right way to say what I want to say.
“My entire life, I’ve done what my dad has asked me to do. I love running. Dedicating myself to track wasn’t hard, but it’s not the only thing I want in my life. When James moved here, I finally felt like my opinion counted for something. That my plans for my future were just as valid as my dad’s. So yes. I quit track because of James, but that doesn’t mean what you think it means. I quit because he gave me the courage to.”
“Just because you quit track doesn’t mean you have to quit running. Just remember that.”
“Yes ma’am,” I say with a sigh. I’m so exhausted. Once Gran leaves, which is hopefully soon, I’m gonna take a nap. I’ve done more conversing and emoting in the last ten minutes than I have in the past two days.
“Okay, then. Now that we got all that stuff out of the way, I have some good news.” She rubs her hands together and her face brightens. I’m sort of afraid to ask. “There’s a pie on the front seat of my car. Why don’t you run out there and get it?”
Yes! The promise of sugar, fruit, and flaky crust instantly banishes my exhaustion. I hope it’s cherry. Or blueberry. Or apple. Who am I kidding? It doesn’t matter. I run to the car and retrieve the dish from her passenger seat. The warmth from the bottom tells me it’s fresh out of the oven, and I’m drooling before I make it back onto the front porch. “Thanks, Gran. You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did.” I manage to hold in my happy dance when I get to the kitchen. Foregoing all manners, I immediately cut a slice and take a bite. Mom would be so ashamed of me right now. “You wah shum?” I ask around a mouthful.
“No, thank you. I just figured some wisdom and a slice of triple berry pie could do you some good today.” I return to my spot in the couch to devour the rest of my plate. “James wanted to stop by after school today but he’d have been late to work,” Gran co
ntinues. “He didn’t look so great this morning.”
Guilt stabs at me. How am I supposed to respond to that? I’d use a cop-out excuse like “It’s not my fault,” but it totally is. He called me a couple of times yesterday and today, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I wanted to—don’t get me wrong. I just didn’t know what to say.
“Is he sick?”
“A little lovesick is all. Nothing a conversation and a makeup kiss can’t fix.”
Ew. I’m not talking about kissing with Gran.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Don’t mention it. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a doctor’s appointment to get to.” She shuffles to the front door, and I set my plate on the counter so I can properly see her out. See? I have manners after all.
“I’m gonna share a quote with you before I go: Distance does to love what wind does to fire. It extinguishes the weak and feeds the strong. It’s up to you to figure out what kind of fire you have.” She smiles and gives me a hug.
“Thanks again, Gran.” She really is a sweet old lady. It’s easy to see why James loves her so much.
“I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.” She pats my shoulder again and starts to leave but stops just across the threshold. “Rachel?”
“Yes, Gran?”
“You really need a shower. Your hair looks as greasy as the inside of a tub of Crisco.”
“I appreciate the observation. On my way.” I can’t help but laugh as I shut and lock the door behind her.
An hour and fifteen sweaty minutes later, I step out of the shower and dry off. I was too worked up to stay inside after Gran left, so I decided to go for a run. I forgot how nice it felt to pop in my earbuds and go. No GPS. No stopwatch. No overbearing dad. Just me, my shoes, and my music. Somewhere around mile four I decided to surprise James at his house tonight after his shift. I owe him an apology at the very least. Then we need to have a conversation about how to make everything work while he’s in Florida. And then, God willing, some kissing. It’s been two days. My lips are jonesing, or rather… Jamesing.
Revenge-eating Dad’s sherbet doesn’t sound very appealing anymore, so I opt for a Diet Coke instead. I still have about two hours before James is done at the Pea. To kill the time, I flop on my bed and look up marathon training programs on Pinterest. I have six weeks and three days until race day. It’ll make for a pretty intense regimen, but I’m not a beginner so I should be fine. I’m actually really looking forward to crossing off one of my bucket list items. Hopefully James can come back up here for our birthday weekend so I can surprise him with the Lake Street Dive concert and cross that one off too. And since we’ll both officially be eighteen, that means we can get our tattoos and I’ll be three for three. I have an idea of what I want, but open a new Pinterest window to see if anyone else has gotten something similar. A knock on my door stops me mid-scroll.
“Come in.”
Dad pokes his head in my room and looks around before opening the door all the way.
“You busy?”
“Nope. What’s up?” This is the first time we’ve spoken since I blew up on him Monday night. It’s awkward, to say the least.
“I, uh, just had something for you. You’re growing up. That’s hard for me to come to terms with.” He shuffles his feet in the doorway. “I’m sure you’ll understand what I mean when you become a parent. Anyway.”
He takes something from his back pocket and walks across the room to hand it to me.
“You got me a little State flag?”
“It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that.” He gives a half-laugh and sits on the bed beside me. “I’ve made it no secret that I want you to go to UNC. But I was reminded that you’re almost a legal adult, which means you can make your own decisions.”
“Who reminded you of that?”
“Your mom.” For a brief moment, he looks like a kid who got in trouble. I can’t help but laugh. “But, she’s right. So if you want to go to State, I’ll support you.”
“Wow.” I wave the small scrap of red back and forth. “That means a lot to me, Dad. But I don’t need this flag.” I set it on my bed and open my desk drawer to remove my UNC envelope. “I’m gonna be a Tarheel.” I pass the acceptance letter to him. His smile grows as he scans the page.
“How long have you had this?”
“A few weeks.”
“You didn’t want to share the good news with me and your mom?”
I put the letter back in the envelope and return it to the drawer. “I wanted to see what State said before I made any decisions.”
“Are you choosing UNC because that’s where I want you go to?”
“No, I’m choosing it because they have the program I want. I’m getting a bachelor’s in exercise and sports science. Apparently, they’re going to be building new schools where James’ grandparents’ house is. Maybe I’ll apply to be a P.E. teacher there once I graduate,” I say with fake optimism.
“You may not believe it, but I really am sorry that he’s leaving. Mom told me he’s your first love. That’s a special thing.”
“Was Mom your first love?”
He takes a deep breath and rubs his forehead. “No, she wasn’t. My first love was my high school sweetheart. Her name was Patti Dolan, and I’d never seen anything as beautiful as her. I had a track scholarship in college, and I was well on my way to the Olympic trials. Everything changed when Patti got pregnant.” His voice thickens, and he winces as if the memory is causing him physical pain. I gasp and grip his arm with my right hand. “Neither of our parents were happy. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t very happy either. That wasn’t a part of my plan. She insisted we could make everything work, but her dad threatened to tell my coach I raped her if she didn’t have an abortion.”
My left hand flies to my mouth. I can’t believe I didn’t know any of this. “God, Dad. You must have been so scared.”
“Yeah, I was scared of a lot of things. My parents couldn’t afford college, which is why I worked so hard at track in the first place. If I had rape charges brought against me, I would have lost my scholarship. If I told Patti I wanted her to get an abortion, I would have lost her. None of my options were very good.”
“What did you do?”
“I called Patti’s dorm and told her I’d pick her up so we could talk. Figure out what our options were and all that. It was a beautiful summer day, so she said she wanted to go to the park. We were on our way when a pickup truck slammed into the passenger side of my car and totaled it. I was bruised and shaken up. Patti had a broken arm and a concussion. She lost the baby.” His head hangs down, and he quickly wipes his eyes. I do the same.
“That must have been so awful.” I can’t imagine what I would have done in that situation.
“That’s the thing. I was more relieved than anything. She didn’t have to get an abortion, and I got to keep my scholarship. It was the best of both worlds. Except she didn’t quite see it that way and we got in a huge fight. We broke up the next day, and she dropped out of school.”
“Did you see her after that?”
“Once, about six months later. I was at a bar with some of the guys from the track team, and she was there with some of her friends. She looked good. Her arm was healed and she was smiling.”
“Did you try to talk to her?”
“No. I didn’t want to stir up old memories for either of us. I was happy being able to focus on track. I didn’t even think about girls at all until I saw your mom on the side of the road with a twisted ankle. I helped her to the clinic, but I couldn’t get her out of my head. The next semester, I pretended to be failing English so she’d tutor me.” For the first time since he started telling me this story, he smiles.
“You pretended to fail? Does Mom know that?” I can’t believe he’d make up something like that just to have a chance to talk to Mom.
“No, I don’t reckon I ever shared that with her.” He chuckles softly and the darkness in his eyes starts to clear.
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“So that’s why you didn’t want me dating anyone?”
“A father’s job is to protect his daughter. I never wanted you to experience what I did. To have to choose between the lesser of two evils. To be relieved about a miscarriage.”
I don’t know what to say, so we sit in silence for a few minutes. “Thanks for telling me that story, Dad. I know it was hard. It helps me understand you better though. I just hope one day you understand why I want to be a P.E. teacher. That you don’t think it’s a wasted career.”
“So long as that’s what you want—that it’s not something you’re settling for—I’m happy for you, Rachel. You’re a smart, talented young lady. You’ll be an amazing teacher.”
“With a degree from UNC,” I add, which makes both of us laugh.
“Does that mean I can burn this?” he asks, picking up the State flag.
“You have my blessing.” He hugs me, and when we separate, he wipes his eyes again.
“Come on, let’s go tell Mom I’m gonna be a Tarheel,” I say, pulling him off the bed and down the hallway. “Oh, is it okay if I run that marathon next month with you?”
“Sounds good to me. Just be prepared to be smoked by your dad.”
“Whatever. I’m gonna run circles around you, old man.”
“Why don’t you get your shoes on and we’ll settle this ‘old man’ thing right now,” he laughs.
My heart is threatening to beat right out of my chest—more excitement than nerves, I think. There’s still about thirty minutes before James’ shift is over, but I can’t wait anymore. It’s time to end my self-inflicted hiatus. I calculate how long it’ll take me to reach his house as I back down the driveway. It normally takes me about fifteen minutes, and it’ll take him about ten to get home from the Sweet Pea. That means I’ll have to drive around like a stalker for about twenty minutes.
