Page 76 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
I glance at Gramps. He is still on his knees hugging Wally while Ellie feeds the dog treats that she procured from somewhere. The little-boy-like look of wonder on Gramps’s face is worth this whole argument.
“I’ll make sure he has a good handle on it before I leave,” I say.
“How long do you have?” Trish asks with a little laugh. “That could take forever.”
I exchange a look with Daniel, who’s sitting on a nearby bench, sipping from a fresh can of LaCroix and pretending not to eavesdrop. Right now, Daniel is the only person who knows I have to return to the office—in Seattle—in two weeks.
He points to his chest and mouths,I can help.
I tilt my head with a grateful, sad smile. I can’t exactly tell Mom and Trish that everything will be okay because my property manager can help walk Gramps’s dog. The two of them are arguing with each other now—weirdly, since they’re on the same side of the argument, but they’ve been known to fight over less. The right way to cut tomatoes, for instance. Or how old they each were when they learned how to tie their shoes. That particular argument ended with a broken water glass and Mom crying in a locked bathroom.
As I listen to them discussing Gramps’s inability to take a ten-minute walk, how he could possibly get the dog to the vet in an emergency, how he’ll know what to feed him, something red-hot wells up inside me. I’m the one who’s been living with Gramps. I’m the one who’s seen the hole in his life where Lottie used to be. I’m the one who saw his eyes shine when he talked about his childhood dog. And I’m the one who has to leave him alone. The one who can’t bear to leave him alone.
“Stop, both of you.” I don’t yell the words, but I’ve never spoken to them like that in my life, so they both freeze with identical faces of surprise. “Gramps needs this. He needs Wally. He needs a friend.”
Mom rolls her eyes and says, “He has human friends,” just as Trish says, “So get him a goldfish.”
“He needs a dog.” I am yelling now, and multiple people stop talking and look at me. “He needs this dog. Lottie never let him have one, and he’s wanted one his whole life. Did you know his dad gave away his childhood dog for chewing on a shoe?” Mom and Trish exchange sad looks at this—they must have heard the story before. I lower my voice so Gramps doesn’t hear the next part. “I have been living with him for almost a month now, and nothing—nothing—has made him look this happy the entire time I’ve been here. You saw his face when he saw Wally. You see his face right now. Just let him be happy. We’ll figure out the logistics.”
We all look over at them. Gramps is now standing, holding up a treat and politely asking Wally to sit. When he does sit, a cheer goes up through the crowd and Gramps bends down to kiss Wally’s head.
“What a clever boy you are!”
Mom and Trish look at each other, knowing they’re beat. They don’t apologize to me, and I don’t expect them to. Mom goes over to greet the dog, and Trish says, “I’ll give you the name of the vet wetake our dogs to. Local. Great gal. You’ll want to make an appointment, just an initial checkup, since he’s been in a shelter.”
“Thanks, Trish.”
“Yeah.” She heads toward the bar cart and then turns back to me. “You’re a good kid, Mal.”
“I know.”
Chapter 26
The party ramps up before it winds down.
As expected, the self-serve bar cart situation gets a little out of hand. There’s a raucous game of twenty questions, where every answer turns out to be something about Gramps—his name, the city he was born in, lasagna (which is apparently his favorite meal; not sure I’ll ever be brave enough to attempt making it for him). Then there’s an impromptu round of karaoke, because Lenore just learned that you can pull up an instrumental version of any song from your phone. This starts strong, with Lenore and Eddy performing a decent Frank Sinatra duet; slips into questionable territory with Ellie belting out an off-key Taylor Swift song; and ends on a major cringe when Dad decides, for reasons best known to himself, to sing “Baby Got Back.”
Around nine, after we’ve cut the cake and the patio is littered with blue-frosting-stained paper napkins, my mom holds up her phone and announces that Maeve has joined the party. My sister’s grainy face shouts happy birthday from the iPhone screen. She then holds up the camera to baby Adam, whom Gramps has no interest in trying to speak to over the din of the party. This offends my mom, who then tries to get everyone to sing “Happy Birthday” again with Maeve on the phone, but only three people actually hear her, and then everything devolves into chaos. Mom admits defeat and hangs up on her eldest daughter,Ellie and the rest of the cousins say goodbye, claiming that they have another party to go to, and Angela turns up the volume on the music and convinces Gramps to dance with her. Soon Daniel and I are surrounded by elderly people wiggling their bodies to an MC Hammer song. Wally has curled up underneath the dessert table.
We sit on a bench near the glowing, kidney-bean-shaped pool.
“You’re still here,” I say.
“Shouldn’t I be?” He spreads his arms across the back of the bench. I sit ramrod-straight.
“You tell me, is this the best offer you got for a Saturday night?”
He considers this for a moment. “Of course, I did have to disappoint an awful lot of folks tonight. What with all the other parties and engagements I was invited to.” He flashes a quick grin and then holds eye contact so long I wonder if I should blink or not. “But yes, Mallory, this was the best offer.”
“Oh.” I’m so startled by this change in direction—by the stark, heartfelt sound of these words—that I have no idea what to say next.
Daniel seems to sense this and fills the silence with, “Your grandpa can dance.”
“You should see him do the mashed potato.”
I actually consider changing the song to “Mashed Potato Time,” but it might make Gramps think of Lottie. I don’t want to ruin this moment for him, when he’s glowing with sweat and joy and dancing with a beautiful woman.
“He looks happy,” Daniel says, reading my mind.
