Page 7 of The Friendly Fall

As I put the car in park, the front door swings open, and out walks my granny, looking just as eccentric as ever with her wild white hair and brightly colored outfit. She’s waving at me with so much force, her arm might just break. I smile and give her a wave half the size.

“Eliza! You made it!” she calls out the moment I slide out into the cool, crisp September air. I gulp it in, wondering just how much I’ve poisoned my lungs back in the city. “You lookgood.”

“I thinkyoulook good,” I shoot back at her, knowing good and well I look like a hot mess in my leggings and oversized T-shirt. “How’re you feeling today?”

She gives me an annoyed look as I pop the trunk to get my luggage. “I amjustfine. Now, I know your mama and daddy think you’re staying here to help me out, but don’t get it twisted, I’m doing this for you, too,” she quips.

I laugh as I grab two of my oversized bags. “I know, I know. You don’t need any help.”

She’s always been the epitome of stubbornness, and as much as her arthritis bothers my parents, she’s convinced that no one needs to be here to help her.

“Those bags are as big as you are, Eliza.” Granny shields her eyes from the sun as I make my way across the dying lawn with my two, fifty-pound suitcases. The fall air has already set in this tiny town,and I can’t complain. I enjoy the changing of the colors, which is something I never saw much of in the city.

I grunt as I make it to the bottom of the ramp that leads to the front porch and take in the rickety old wood that’s now warped and nearly rotten. “Granny, this thing needs some work.”

“It’s fine for now. Just watch out for those holes.” She gestures to a hole the size of my face at the mid-landing.

Oh my goodness. This is not safe.

For a moment, I hesitate, trying to decide if I should carry both of my bags across this sketchy ramp. I debate whether to leave one behind and come back for it, but that would meanmoretrips, and I’msotired from the seven-hour drive, so the less trips the better. I just want to get this over with.

“I’ve got dinner in the oven. I’ll be right back to help you carry your bags,” Granny says before disappearing inside the house.

I nod, but there’s no way in heck that I’m letting her carryanyof my luggage. She’s eighty, and I’m not even thirty yet. I think it’s fair to say that I can handle these on my own.

Using the bags as balance, I make my way up the rickety ramp, and the boards groan beneath me.

Jeez. I’m notthatheavy…

My arms are burning by the time I make it to the mid-landing, and I realize that I really need to start working out again. Losing my jobandgetting broken up on the same day was pretty devastating for me; which led to way too many nights of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream…

Ugh.

I shake off the heartbreak, but I don’t get far, the sound of splitting wood splintering beneath me.

“Oof!” The noise erupts from my throat as pain sears through my right leg.

My brain feels jostled as I realize what’s just happened to me.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

My left knee is now in my face and my right leg is buried up to my mid-thigh. My arms are wrapped around my bags, and I do my best to push them out of the way as I try to wriggle my leg free…

But it doesn’t budge.

My face grows heated as I glance around, realizing the awkward position that I’m now situated in. “Granny!” I call out.

That’s when I spot Granny’s next-door neighbor outside—an older gentleman with striking white hair. He’s got a funny, lopsided grin on his face. I facepalm myself, already imagining what he must be thinking about the newest arrival to this small town.

And before Granny is even out the front door to see for herself, the neighbor guy is heading over. “You need some help, young lady?” he asks in a scratchy voice as he crosses the street. “That’s a heck of a fall you just had. I think the whole road mighta heard it.”

“Yeah, very unexpected,” I squeak out, my eyes jutting over to Granny, whose eyes are as wide as a country mile.

“Did ya hit the hole?” she calls out.

“I think I made a brand-new one,” I choke out.

“Time to have Nick redo this ramp, Marilyn,” Neighbor Guy comments in a gruff tone.

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