Page 36 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
“It’ll be good for you. A nice stretch. Get the blood flowing.”
“No, no. Please.” He waves a hand, telling me to carry on.
With a sigh, I try to get back into it. The teacher has already moved on to the second flow, so I’ve completely missed the first one.
And let me tell you, if you have never tried to do a one-woman yoga class in front of a watching grandpa, it is uncomfortable. No, it is impossible. I can’t get back into the right headspace. I fumble the moves. I don’t feel relaxed or stretched or anything. During the final Savasana, as I try to relax into a naplike state, I can’t take it anymore. Gramps doesn’t even have the courtesy to read a book or something. He’s just watching, like I’m six and putting on a play for his entertainment.
I stand, roll up the blanket, and close my laptop.
“Finished already?” he asks.
“Yep!” I try to bite back the aggression in my tone.
“Looks like a lovely workout.”
“Mm-hmm. Lovely.” I head toward the bathroom.
“Angela does an exercise class, too. Down on the lawn. She’s very passionate about it. Maybe you could join her sometime.”
I stop at the bathroom door. The thought of joining a senior citizens’ workout class in the sticky heat is deeply unappealing, but not as much as the thought of repeating the yoga fiasco I’ve just experienced. “Maybe I will.”
“Wonderful. Enjoy your shower!”
Freshly bathed and dressed, I hunker down in my bedroom, door closed. I’ve pulled a kitchen chair up to my nightstand, which is cleared of everything except my laptop and a mug of Gramps’s bitter coffee. I miss my Nespresso machine.
As soon as I log on, Kat pings me.
Good morning! Sending everyone on the team a friendly reminder to submit your reports by the end of the day.
Oh boy. I choke down a gulp of coffee, then send her a thumbs-up emoji. I’ve definitely been slacking since I’ve been in Florida. I need to get it together today.
The hours pass slowly as I sift through dozens of unread emails, pausing here and there to add notes to my status reports for each project.
Around three—lunchtime in Seattle—I head to the kitchen to heat up my frozen pizza. I’m in a meeting—camera off—which I listen to with my noise-canceling headphones as I bustle around the kitchen. I pop the pizza in the oven and start the timer, then grab a bag of baby carrots from the fridge.
Gramps has materialized, and he’s leaning over the kitchen table peering at the faces on my laptop screen.
“Gramps!” I whip the headphones off one ear.
“Zoom meeting?” He sounds pleased with himself for knowing the terminology.
“Yes. And it’s, you know, my job. You didn’t touch anything, did you?” I scan the screen to make sure he didn’t turn on the camera or type anything in the chat box.
“Of course not.” He sounds slightly injured now.
“Sorry. Just—” I stop, because Kat is asking me a question. I jab theUNMUTEbutton. “No, Antonio’s team is behind by at least a week. They’ve already let Ben know, so he’s aware of the situation.”
From the other side of the table, Gramps mouths,Wow. Nice.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Before I can say anything, he meanders over to the oven and cracks it open to peek at my pizza.
“Did you make this?” he asks.
“It’s a frozen pizza from Foxy’s,” I whisper. “You can have some. When it’s done.” With one finger, I push the oven door closed.
“I couldn’t; it’s too close to dinnertime. Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” He goes to his bedroom and closes the door behind him.
I sigh with relief, and then feel guilty. Gramps isn’t reallyannoyingme, it’s just that I don’t like to be interrupted while I’m working.
