Page 57 of Of Literature and Lattes
Alyssa raised an answering brow.
Janet laughed, and the tension broke between them. “Okay... I would have endured it.”
Within minutes the subject of their laughter arrived. Still in a little pain and a lot tired, Alyssa found herself pulling from the center, her usual spot between Mom and Grandma, and watching from the periphery. She noticed things she’d never seen before.
The same push and pull existed between them that existed between herself and her mom, only Janet played the daughter role. She tried to please her mom, yet failed. She tried to engage her, yet got rebuffed. Alyssa kept watching...
No. Not the same. Rather than watching an alive and present relationship unfold, it was like watching the skeleton of one that had changed, only one party hadn’t realized that yet. Her grandmother was still playing by old rules. Alyssa recognized it because, she realized now, she had been doing the same for the past three weeks. Not only that, she also admitted that long ago she’d stopped trying to please, stopped trying to engage. She’d been playing her grandmother’s role, the instigator, all while believing herself a victim.
Her grandmother’s voice brought her back to the present.
“I’m sure you thought you were doing what was best, but you pushed that girl too hard.” Grandma wiped the counters behind Janet, putting away things her mom was, in fact, still using.
“You’re probably right. Hopefully she can heal now.” Janet reclaimed her knife from the sink.
“I certainly hope so,” Grandma clucked.
“I’m right here. I can hear you,” Alyssa commented dryly. “And I’m fine, Grandma. I have celiac disease, and it just means a lifestyle change. A big one, but the doctor says I’ll be fine.”
“How’d you catch that?” Grandma asked Alyssa the question, but shot a look to her daughter.
The look’s acidity made Alyssa cringe. “Again, not her fault, Grandma. I gave it to myself.” She cycled through her head all that Dr. Laghari had said and synthesized it into bite-sized pieces for her grandmother. She left out the part of their conversation in which Alyssa’s pain-tinged laughter had morphed to tears. “That’s irony for you. Serves me right.” She had refused to share anything more with Dr. Laghari—such as that her job at XGC centered around predicting such diseases—and certainly wasn’t going to bring it up now.
“The bottom line, sort of, is that I didn’t take care of myself, and my body started fighting itself—my small intestine to be exact. Did you know your small intestine is supposed to look like a putting green? Mine has all these cracks instead, like a cobblestone street.”
“Alyssa, that’s horrible!” Grandma exclaimed.
“But the point is, with proper diet, nutrition, and rest, she said the cracks can heal and get back to a smooth putting green again. I don’t even need fancy meds, Grandma. I can be fine.”
“Well... I can’t imagine life around here can be restful. That’s what you need right now.”
Alyssa watched as her mom, without look or comment, turned back to her soup and stirred.
“Watch how much garlic you add, Janet. A friend of mine tells me it’s very bad for one’s stomach.”
Without turning, Janet replied, “I’ll be careful.”
Soon the three sat at the kitchen table, and Alyssa couldn’t avoid the center any longer. Janet set her bowl at the end of the rectangular table, positioned between her mom and her grandmother.
Alyssa glanced back and forth between the two women. They looked so much alike. Probably as alike as Alyssa and Janet. Three generations, Alyssa mused as she tried to follow the conversation between bites. Three generations playing the same games.
After an almost endless barrage of sideways comments and passive-aggressive insinuations, Alyssa wondered why her mom’s head didn’t fly off and how she’d never noticed the unequal dynamic before. Or perhaps it hadn’t been unequal before. Perhaps her mom really had changed. But rather than engage, she poured herself another bowl of soup, and watched, and listened.
After Grandma left, Alyssa slumped at the kitchen island. “I need to help with the dishes, but she exhausted me.”
“Not at all. Sit there and keep me company. No working for you tonight.”
Janet cleared the table, rinsed the dishes, and began scrubbing her large soup pot.
Alyssa sat straight and finally asked the question she had pondered all night. “Did Grandma say you should stop painting?”
“Why would you think that?”
“I just wondered.”
Her mom glanced back then focused on the pot again. “She never said to stop. She wouldn’t do that. A declaration like that doesn’t leave any wiggle room. She did say it was foolish, selfish, and something only a woman in my generation would ever consider.”
Janet paused and her hands stilled, but Alyssa knew she was not waiting for her comment, she was just lost in the past.
