Page 13 of Crazy Love

I tap her withered hand back. “Stop being so stubborn. Let me pour the tea when I visit.”

She huffs under her breath but concedes. I pour us both a cup, before sitting across from her at the table. “Well? Any words of wisdom for me?”

I’ve rattled off my potential business idea to my grandmother and she’s given me zero indication of what she’s thinking. She’s given me the same face she always does when listening to stories. Eyes narrowed in suspicion, like everyone’s up to something. She barely moved a muscle as I told her.

“I can’t tell you what to do Kalina,” she says, finally.

“I’m asking for advice Mimi,” I reply. “You’re almost ninety. Surely, you’ve got some magic pearls of wisdom hidden in those wrinkles.”

“I might be old Kalina, but don’t think I won’t make you pay for that.” A smile threatens at her mouth before she takes a sip of her drink. I wait for her to say more.

I know my Mimi. Never one to rush to solve anyone’s problems. Never one to shy away from tough love. Mimi’s a firm believer that people already have the answers, they just need help pulling them out.

“You’ve got a great opportunity in front of you,” she muses. “If you don’t take this opportunity, what’s the alternative?”

“Moving back in with you,” I reply dryly.

Mimi smiles. “I would take you back in a heartbeat, but not because you fear a new adventure. You’ve never feared anything. Always so passionate. Too passionate.” Mimi mutters the last few words to herself. She’s been saying that my entire life. “What does Anthony think of all this?”

I choke on my tea and spend the next few seconds coughing and banging my fist against my chest. Mimi raises an eyebrow as she waits for me to compose myself.

“He thinks I should do it,” I say, clearing my throat again. Mimi’s eyes narrow and my cheeks heat.

“Hmm.”

“Hmm? That’s all you have to say?Hmm?”

Mimi picks up a teaspoon and stirs her tea. “If you open this studio, how much will it cost?”

“A lot. Starting a business is expensive. There’s location, permits, equipment, renovation costs, staff … it’s a lot.”

Mimi looks at me deadpan. “You have the money, Kalina.” I suck the air between my teeth at her triumphant expression. “The Kali I know wouldn’t be thinking twice about this. I’m surprised you’re not knocking down doors and drafting plans already. Something’s holding you back. If this is about the money, Kalina, you need to put your pride aside.”

Despite the way her words bristle, I know she’s right. As usual. Somethingisholding me back. I never think on things for this long. I make decisions with ease, because I usually know what I want. The reality is I’ve spent the past couple of days searching for someone to tell me this whole thing is a bad idea, so it’ll be easier to not take a chance and I won’t have to touch my inheritance.

And why don’t I want to touch my inheritance? Because, as Mimi beautifully pointed out, I’m too proud.

* * *

Later that night, I’m tossing and turning, playing my conversation with Mimi on repeat.

My pride has got in the way of a lot of things in my life. It’s as if I have this innate need to prove that I don’t need anyone else’s help. My career, purchasing my first car, travelling the world, were all achieved without a cent from anyone else. I wanted to prove to myself and everyone else that I didn’t need a handout from anyone. That having two absent parents would never stop me from achieving what I wanted. That I didn’tneedmy parents or their money.

I flex my fingers, cracking the knuckles as I stare at my darkened ceiling. I miss my parents. My faded memories of us as a happy family are ones I cling to dearly. I’m not exactly sure when I hardened at the mere mention of them or when I decided I’d never touch the inheritance. Lying here in the darkness, it doesn’t make sense.

I have a heap of money from my parents that could help me in so many ways, and I’m not touching it out of stubbornness. I roll my eyes at the ceiling. Even admitting that to myself gives me the ick, but it’s true, not spending it isn’t going to prove anything.

My stomach churns with anticipation. It reminds me of the night before something big, like Christmas or a big dance concert. I’ve lost my job, plain and simple, and now have the opportunity to make some real decisions on what to do next.

Do I want to work for another gym and spend the next few years building new connections, new friends and complaining about their set-up and rules I have no control over? Where would that lead me? In a couple of years, I’ll be thirty, with no direction or purpose and nothing that’s mine.

Until I lost my job, I didn’t realise how badly I wanted something to call mine. I don’t own a house or have any assets apart from my RAV4, and she’s bound to break down any day now. Permanently.

If this is about the money, Kalina, you need to put your pride aside.

Bloody, Mimi. She’s always right.

I whip my phone out and unlock it. I’ve made the decision about what to do next before I even pull up his number.

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