Page 19 of This Can't Be Goodbye

Naomi crosses her arms and leans into her chair. “Mrs. Lewis, you’re preaching to the choir. I know firsthand how devious and cruel this man can be. Why don’t you sit down so we can chat?”

Just when I thought this outing couldn’t get any worse. “Actually, we’re on a tight schedule, and you must have work to do. So we’ll just mosey on over to the counter and get our coffee and tea and find our own seats.” Preferably on the other side of the continent.

Gran, of course, ignores me and slowly lowers herself into the chair opposite Naomi. “Order for me, Avett. Your girlfriend and I need to catch up.”

My girlfriend.

Mortification isn’t a strong enough description for my current state of torment.

In no part of this morning’s plan did I envision Gran and Naomi talking alone, without me there to do damage control. Gran lives to prattle on about the time my head got stuck in the banister and the day she caught me masturbating to a magazine bra advertisement.

Naomi’s mischievous glow turns devilish. She flutters her fingers at me. “Your grandmother is in good hands. Go on and place your order.”

I am so screwed.

Somehow, I walk to the counter, where I make the grave error of glancing over my shoulder. Naomi’s leaning forward, mouth dropped open in sheer amusement, while Gran’s no doubt diminishing my cool factor by a hundred. I go to yank at my collar, but I’m wearing a loose crewneck T-shirt. This constricting feeling around my throat is doom, not cinched cotton.

I’m going to have to find a new coffee shop to frequent. Maybe a new job in a new town, throw my whole routine into chaos.

“Why do you look like you’re about to puke?” Delilah steps back from the counter and picks up a small garbage can. “Do you need this?”

“What I need is one of those gadgets theMen in Blackguys have, the one that erases memories.” Scrub Naomi’s mind of this entire morning.

“Oh my God.” Delilah cranes her neck, peeking toward the cushy loveseats. “Is that your grandmother?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Why would you let them talk?”

“It was an accident.” Because I’m a forever moron. “Now I have to leave the country.”

Delilah smacks the counter and cackles. “I can’t wait to tell Ricky about this.”

I grumble under my breath.

When Delilah has gathered herself enough to take my money and get my beverages and a scone for Gran, I don’t return to the scene of my humiliation. There’s no point. I find a table on the opposite side of the coffee shop and take a seat, facing the windows and the view of the main street. Watching families stroll is no longer quaint and charming. The soundtrack toTexas Chainsaw Massacreplays in my head.

After three sips of my coffee—which barely makes it down my throat—Naomi comes over with my grandmother.

Gran sits in her seat, smiling at me, like she isn’t the Judas of traitors.

Naomi bats her lashes. “Your grandmother is a doll. I’m so glad I got to meet her.”

“Okay…” I drag out the word, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or, in Naomi’s case, the guillotine. “She’s quite colorful when she wants to be,” I say.

“That, she is.” Naomi nods to Gran. “It was a pleasure, Mrs. Lewis.” She turns to leave, but swivels back. “And Avett, if you’re looking for bra advertisements in the future, Feathery Frocks lingerie has catalogs.”

Naomi’s so gleeful she practically has fireworks exploding from her eyes. I nearly bite through my tongue, mortified. Of course Gran shared my humiliating masturbating story.

“How about that cribbage game?” Gran says brightly.

I drop my head forward and pinch my nose.

chaptereight

Avett

While other aspects of my life are less than optimal, I’m finally getting my car back. I’m thrilled to ditch my smoke-smelling rental and drive my Subaru. Strangely, though, when I get to Boyd’s Service Center after work, Naomi’s Mazda is still here, and the front bumper is still crumpled.

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