Page 31 of The Naughty List
“Oh yeah?” Jonah leans forward. “Were you any good?”
Gramps makes a face and it’s the closest thing I’ve seen to a smile in months. “Hell yeah I was good. Would’ve kept at it when I came home, but had a little one on the way. Needed steadier income.” He jerks his chin toward me. “She was worth it.”
He thinks I’m my mom.
“She’s a great girl,” Jonah agrees. “You did a wonderful job raising her.”
His words sound so genuine I feel them in my chest.
Gramps grunts again. “Mostly her mother’s doin’. I worked eighty hours a week in a factory most her life.”
Jonah nods. “Providing is still part of raising.” He gestures to the food on the tray. “You gonna eat this or waste away in that chair all day?”
I brace for Gramps to throw us out, but he lifts his arm and waves it toward himself. “Bring it over here then.”
Jonah wheels the tray over and I watch as he unwraps the fruit and uncovers the soup.
“You like cantaloupe?”
Gramps makes a sour face. “No one likes cantaloupe. It’s garbage fruit.”
Jonah chuckles. “It’s not so bad if you sprinkle a little salt on it.”
“They don’t believe in salt in this godforsaken place.”
“They just know it’s not great for you, Pop,” I say softly. “They take good care of you here, yeah?”
He grumbles something under his breath I can’t make out.
“Be nice,” Jonah says barely containing a grin. Clearly he caught the comment I missed.
When my grandpa can’t seem to get the spoon to his mouth with the soup actually still on it, Jonah reaches over casually and steadies his hand. He doesn’t feed him like an invalid, just offers some assistance.
I want to tackle hug him. Or kiss him. Possibly both.
When Gramps pushes the tray away after taking a few bites of soup and polishing off half the roll, Jonah hands me the shaving kit.
Opening it, I show the contents to my grandpa. “Feel like a shave today?”
He frowns but nods. “Make it quick, Lydia. It’s nearly time for my nap.”
“Jonah, can you turn the overhead light on and bring me a wet washrag? There should be some in his bathroom.”
“I think I can handle that.” He flips the light switch before wetting a washcloth and bringing it to me.
I do my best to lather the cream and give my grandpa a close, even shave without nicking him. It goes fairly well until he starts to nod off.
Reaching what I can with his chin drooping downward into his chest, concealing his neck, I finish up and put some lotion on his sagging jowls. When he begins to snore, I stand and place the robe on his bed. I wrote his name on the inside in black permanent marker because the laundry service here tends to hand items out to the wrong residents if they aren’t clearly labeled.
The green and red plaid Christmas blanket I brought last week is on his bed so I pull it off and cover him with it.
Jonah stands, glancing at the pictures all around the room. Most of them are of me and my brothers from our childhood to the present.
“You ready?”
“Yeah. He’ll be out for a while.” Leaning over, I kiss Gramps on the forehead. “I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck,” I whisper.
Our thing. Another thing I miss hearing from him.
