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What did she even have in her life these days? She worked long, hard hours at the hospital, then watched a ton of TV and read articles about stuff like karma and meditation because they gave her boring daily tasks meaning. Her life had narrowed while ours had expanded, which made her refusal to live off Luke sort of noble. She never complained. She deserved a lot more respect and sympathy than I ever gave her.
I got up off the bed and changed out of my sweat shorts and tank top and into jeans and a sweater. I stuffed my feet into low boots, and then I marched out of my room and down the hallway, where I knocked on the guest room door before opening it. I said, “Please come with us to the movies.”
“I don’t want to be an imposition,” Grandma said, looking up from the suitcase she was unpacking.
“You’re not. If you don’t want to go, that’s fine—I’ll stay home with you. I’d rather be with you than see a movie.”
“In that case”—she flung her skirt back in the suitcase—“I’ll be ready to go in two minutes!”
I found Heather and Aaron sitting close together at the kitchen table, watching a movie trailer on her laptop.
“Where’s George?” I asked. I wanted him to know that Grandma was coming with us.
Aaron hit pause and looked up. “He took off. Said he had to get something but he’d be back to work on your mother’s office later. Does he have a key to your house?”
“Everyone has a key to our house,” I said. “Which makes all of the security cameras and stuff kind of pointless. You guys settle on a movie?”
“I let Heather decide,” Aaron said. “I’m a gentleman that way.”
“He is,” she said. “And because he was nice to me, I was nice to him and picked the movie he wanted.”
“He played you like a fiddle,” I said.
“I’m devious.” Aaron stood up. “I’m going to run to your bathroom before we go.”
While he was out of the room, Heather closed her laptop and arched her back in a long stretch, then said, “I feel really good about my essay now, Ellie.” She nodded toward the hallway. “He’s so smart. And sweet.”
“I’ve always thought so.”
“Can I ask you something weird?” I nodded and she lowered her voice. “If you are, it’s totally cool . . . but . . . you’re not interested in him romantically, are you?”
It was fu
“No,” I said. “He’s just a friend.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Totally.” I was. I was totally sure. I loved him, but deep down I knew there wasn’t even a shred of sexual attraction or romance in that love. And here was Heather, asking about him. I felt a smile creep over my face. “Why? Do you like him?”
She ducked her head, blushing, and barely whispered, “I think, maybe, yeah. He’s really nice.”
“He is.” I considered her for a moment, and it was like light dawning. I clasped my hands. “Heather, this is brilliant. You two are perfect for each other.”
“You really think so?”
“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner.”
“You don’t think he’s too . . .” She groped for the right word. “Too sophisticated for me?”
“Why do you always sell yourself short? You’re plenty sophisticated. You’re also the sweetest, best girl in the world. He’d be lucky to get to be with you.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my friend.”
“It’s true.”
“So what do I do now?”
“I could say something to him—”
“Oh God, no! That’s so middle school! I want to seem older, not younger.”
“Okay. But you should reach out to him somehow—let him know you’re interested.”
“Right,” she said. “I’ll try. I’m just not—shhhh.” Aaron was coming back into the room. I gri
“What’d I interrupt?” he asked, looking back and forth between us.
“Secrets,” I said.
“Girl talk? Can I join in?”
“No,” Heather and I said at the same time, just as my grandmother entered. She had made herself fancy: a bit of her hair was pi
“I’m ready,” she sang out.
Aaron gaped at me.
“Grandma’s coming with us,” I said, and hooked my arm through hers, avoiding Aaron’s accusing glare. “Let’s go.”
twenty-two
I did my best to encourage things between Heather and Aaron that night. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced they would be a perfect couple, the one so domineering, the other so compliant. I made sure they sat next to each other at the movies and shared their own bag of popcorn. I shared with Grandma, popcorn being one of the few junk foods she approved of. (It’s high in fiber, you know, Ellie. So long as you don’t put that fake butter on it, it’s really not bad for you.)
Now that I knew Heather liked Aaron, I could see the signs of it—nothing major, but they were there. Like the way she talked to me more than to him—of course Heather would be all shy and self-conscious around a guy she liked! And she didn’t scarf down popcorn the way she normally did; she only nibbled a few pieces at a time. A classic case of shrunken love stomach.
I wasn’t sure Aaron was getting the message, though: it was all pretty subtle. She was smiley and responsive to anything he said directly to her, but in pretty much the same way she was smiley and responsive to anything I said to her. I worried that Heather just didn’t know how to send out vibes that were more flirtatious than friendly.
I wished I hadn’t promised not to say anything to him. I felt like just a few careful words might have made him see her in a whole new light. Plus it might make things clearer between him and me. A simple Hey, maybe you and my friend should go out seemed like an effective way to get across the message that I wasn’t interested in him for myself but had nothing against him.
Alone that night in my room, my grandmother’s snores audible through the wall, I searched my ego very carefully, poking and pricking to see if there was any soreness there, any discomfort at the thought of Aaron and Heather’s falling in love. But there wasn’t. Picturing the two of them together only made me feel happy. And a little relieved.
I knew that Heather would be a much better girlfriend for him than I ever could. She was sweet and easygoing and generous. I was too used to getting my own way and dominating everyone around me—just like Aaron. As a couple, we would have clashed constantly. But he and Heather would complement each other perfectly, and I would do everything I could to make them happen.
I squidged down into bed and waited to fall into the deep sleep of the virtuous and celibate.
Except I couldn’t.
Now that I felt settled about the Heather/Aaron situation, a far less serene memory bubbled up to the surface: my conversation with George about my grandmother. I never liked when people called me out on something I already felt guilty about, and I couldn’t get his last disappointed look out of my mind.
I wished he knew that he’d convinced me to include her. But sending a text that said, “Enjoyed the movie—my grandmother did, too,” seemed too embarrassingly transparent. Anyway, I kind of wanted to tell him face-to-face. I wanted to see him smile and nod, the way he did when he felt I’d done something right for once. Those moments were rare enough.
I flipped around in my bed. The house was too quiet. Usually I could hear someone moving around after I went to bed: Mom getting up and wandering along the hallway (she had insomnia issues); Jacob crying after a bad dream; Luke coming home late from work. . . . But tonight it was just Grandma and me, and the faint sounds of her rhythmic breaths made me feel even more alone: she was so deeply asleep and I was so awake. I wasn’t exactly scared—we really did have a ridiculously impressive security system and I had double-checked that it was set before going to bed—but I didn’t like the quiet. It made me glad Grandma had come after all. If I felt this isolated with her, the loneliness would have been unbearable without her.