Genealogy_a novel by Mae Wood

Author:Mae Wood [Wood, Mae]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atacama Books
Published: 2018-10-24T18:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

Ali

September

“Sweetheart, how was California?” Mom asked over the phone around lunchtime. I heard the worry-tinged hope in her voice and I was certain my sister Jess had told her that Scott and I were over.

I’d been home a few days and had been sending my mom’s calls to voicemail. Our texts were short and informative. Mainly about what I wanted to do for my birthday next week. I hadn’t breathed a word to her or anyone else other than Jess about my breakup with Scott. Jess had put me on speaker in the car while she sat in line for after-school pickup and listened patiently while I huffed and sniffled. I hadn’t even told Caroline. Talking to Jess was easier because I couldn’t see the sorrow and concern etched on her face. If I told Caroline, she’d want to talk about it and I didn’t have words. It was too fresh. The wound had stopped bleeding but the scab was only beginning to form.

“Fine,” I said, again punting on having this conversation, but it was far from fine. It wasn’t fine and it wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t anything anymore, other than over.

“Can you go over to Grammie’s? The move is coming up and she’s a little low. Patrick’s going to visit tomorrow and Jess spoke with her this morning. Having you kids around her really keeps her mood up, but she’s just very sad right now.”

“Understandable.” Our moods would match in that respect. And while we were both setting aside parts of our lives to be in the past, her move was the scary one. We all knew where it led, even if we didn’t say the words.

At dinnertime I arrived at Grammie’s house empty-handed. I’d meant to pick up dinner for us, but the steam I’d been running on for the last few days had given out. I had nothing left. She greeted me at the door with a glass of wine in hand. One glass of red wine a day. She’d negotiated a hard bargain with her doctors—those who treated her and those who loved her.

“Ali,” she said with a smile.

“Good to see you moving pretty well.”

“I’m not dead yet,” she said with a rueful smile as she passed me the glass of wine. “Looks like you could use this more than I could.”

I shook my head no. “Keep your wine. Bar cart still stocked?”

“Whose house do you think you’re in, sweet pea?”

I followed her to the formal living room. The big space looked even bigger with only two wingback chairs, a coffee table, and the brass and glass bar cart that I’d known all of my life. She prided herself on her hostessing skills. Taught me how to make a Scotch and soda for my grandpa when I was about eight. Just a splash to open it up. You don’t want to drown it, sweetie. The small dish that always held a fresh lime and lemon was empty, but the ice bucket was stocked.

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