Page 4 of Wrong Number, Right Unicorn

“Oh, sweetie.” And just like that, her tone completely changed.

She walked over and hugged me. “You work too hard. You’re like your father in that.” She ruffled my hair. “You need to stop, or you’re gonna be miserable. You’ll never find someone to settle down with and have a family. You want a family, right?”

“Yes, Grams.” If I thought I wouldn’t get caught, I’d have rolled my eyes.

She was pinging all over the place, her mood just bouncing and bouncing, unsure where to land. I was going to need to push a little harder to get her to talk to a doctor about this. Had she not been a lifelong non-drinker, I’d have sworn she was drinking half the time.

“Let me go get you tea.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Fine, let’s go get tea.” It was late, and it was easy enough for me to do it, but leaving her when she was like this seemed like a worse idea than bringing her with me.

I walked her out, making sure she locked her door, something she was getting pretty bad at lately, and we got in the car.

“Let’s go to the big box store, and we can get you some groceries too.”

I didn’t have to look much beyond the counter to see that she was running low. It was an empty bread bag, an empty milk jug, and two tuna cans that were empty and rinsed. She said she liked to keep her recycling on the counter so that she knew what she needed to buy again. It was a choice but one that didn’t hurt anyone, so I never argued with her. And it did help me because on days I came over, I made sure to replenish her stock without having to play the game of getting her to give me a list.

“No, they have the wrong tea.” She buckled her belt.

“What do you mean, they have the wrong tea?” She didn’t buy any particularly fancy variety; it was just tea, the kind you probably got at most diners. And if one was on sale, that was the way she went.

“Yeah, the wrong kind.” Which explained nothing. “Let’s go to the 24.” That was what she called her favorite pharmacy—24. In theory, it was open 24 hours, but given that it was closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, that wasn’t really accurate.

“Okay, let’s go.”

There was always somebody at the pharmacy, it being one of the only places open late if you needed a prescription. We went inside, and she handed me a basket and said, “Carry this.” So I did.

Then she started telling me all about her day, as if this hadn’t been the weirdest night ever. She put things in the basket hereand there, and then went to the food aisle where she found her tea and plopped it in. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was probably paying triple the amount because it was the same exact tea everywhere had.

As we rounded the next corner, she ran straight into the security guard, nearly toppling him over.

“I thought you weren’t coming back here.” He straightened up. There was a story there, one I wasn’t familiar with.

She looked up at him and tilted her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, last time you were here, you yelled at me and told me you were never coming in here again because you thought I was?—”

She shook her head. “No, no, I don’t think so.”

And that’s when everything went yikes. She grabbed the basket from me, threw it at him, and ran out the door. Only shegrandma-ran, so it wasn’t much more than a walk, and he followed behind her.

When I turned around, I saw the poor security guard was holding his nose. Apparently, she did get a good throw in. I hustled straight to the car, intending to get her inside of it before going back to apologize for what happened and beg him not to trespass her. Before I was able to unlock it, a police car pulled into the driveway. Their lights weren’t on. From what I could tell it was simply bad timing.

Great, just what we needed.

Of all the times for them to come here.

“Come on, Grams, let’s hurry up and get you inside.” So I could fix this mess.

“Why? Are you saying I can’t handle myself?”

Fantastic. I was making it worse.

“No. Of course not. I just figured that since?—”

She cut me off, screaming, “This is what I think about cops!”

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