Page 6 of Breathe Again

“You spoil her.” She laughed. “Is the coffee ready?”

I brought her mug to her and set the platter of donuts on the table. She chose the same one as Olivia. I felt a flutter of unease. Olivia wandered back into the kitchen to retrieve her second donut.

“Here, little bird.” I slid it onto her plate.

“Oh, that’s my favorite too! What if Gran-Gran wants that one?”

Olivia froze in her tracks.

Bea continued. “We’ll play rock-paper-scissors for it.”

Bea turned to face Olivia, took her plate with her second donut out of her hands, and placed it on the table between them. She extended her hand to play rock, paper, scissors.

“No,” I interrupted. “That was bought for Olivia. You can have a different one, and in fact the rest were bought for you to keep.”

“I don’t want the other ones,” she snapped, then cajoled, “Come, Olivia, let’s play rock-paper-scissors.”

Olivia held out her hand, a tiny faltering smile on her face.

I stood up, leaned across the table, lifted the plate, and gave it to Olivia.

“That’s yours, Olivia, go sit down, darling.”

Olivia took the plate, her eyes darting back and forth between her grandmother and myself. She shrugged uncomfortably but took the plate and went back to her chair, her iPad, and her headphones.

Bea sat back with a tight smile on her lips. I chose my own donut. I didn’t usually indulge, but there had to be something positive to come out of this visit, and it looked like this was going to be it.

Mm, the first bite was always the best.

“How’s your diet going?” she smiled, eyes wide and guileless once again. She was on fire today. Somebody pissed in her cornflakes for sure.

“I’m not on a diet.” I put the donut down on my plate.

“Oh.”

I let the silence drag out between us. It took effort not to fill the empty space with emptier chatter to distract and entertain her. She broke the silence.

“I remember when you were little I asked you for a kiss, and you said no,” she began. She was like a dog with a meaty bone, she couldnot let anything go. “I said ‘alright then, away you go and play.’ You came to me later and asked me for a kiss. I said no.” She chuckled at the memory. “Poor little thing. It broke your heart. You never said no to me again after that.”

I was completely dumbfounded but I tried not to let it show on my face. The fact that she thought that story painted her in a positive light was astounding. However, it was also incredibly enlightening.

“Different generations I guess,” I countered. “My generation believes in children owning their own bodies, which means no forced hugs and kisses.”

By that point I’d had enough abuse for one day, so I waited what I hoped was a respectable amount of time, made our excuses, and got up to leave. On my way out she handed me the rest of the donuts, packed back into the box they came in.

“No, no, Mom, we bought those for you.”

“No, I don’t like those ones,” she sniffed.

This was patently untrue; she ate all kinds of sweets.

She continued, “You take them. Give them to Zale and Olivia.”

I guess she had more than one point to make.

At home I ate another two donuts just to defy her, hated myself for it, hated my mother, lost patience with Olivia when she refused to wash her hands after going to the bathroom, and hated myself more.

I went to the bathroom and pressed my nails into my palms, searching for calm, reaching for balance, then returned to Olivia, my patience intact.

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