Chapter Five
Lila
My phone sitting on the piles of magazines by my nightstand and Henry snoring on the side of the bed where Luke should be sleeping, I battle with the unending question.
Should I call him?
It’s been two weeks since we said our final goodbyes, two weeks since that last box was packed. And more than anything, I didn’t expect how strange it would be to not talk to him, to not hear from him.
For three years, he was my best friend. For three years, every day started with him and ended with him. He was there when I was picking out my outfit in the morning and he was there to hear my chaotic stories from work. He was there for our pizza grilled cheese sandwiches every Wednesday and to help me come up with gym excuses every Thursday.
He was there. And now he’s not.
It’s like he’s become a ghost in my life, vanishing into thin air with a painful goodbye.
I miss him. I want to hear his voice, long to hear what’s going on. I long for the days that used to be, the easy conversations, even when things weren’t perfect.
I guess that’s the thing about breakups, though. They make everything seem rosier than it was. I don’t sit here and long for the screaming fights or all the building tension. I don’t think about the times I spent crying in the bathtub because he hadn’t noticed me or the times I looked in the mirror and fretted over another fine line on my face because I was getting older and not getting any closer to my goals.
I rub my thumb over the phone screen, knowing I can’t. I can’t call him because to hear his voice will be my undoing. It will be too risky. I will fall for his voice that radiates through my veins. I will let go of my goals and dreams and settle. I will settle for a life that can’t make either of us happy because it will be a life of sacrifice on both ends. We’re different people who made a relationship work for a while but couldn’t make it work forever. It’s best to accept it.
Getting out of bed, stretching languidly, I peek out the window into the sunshine. It’s a beautiful day, and I mercifully have the day off work. It’s just me and Henry.
And Grandma and Cookie. I almost forgot that the quiet solitude of my apartment is a thing of the past as well.
I wander out to the kitchen, Henry still snoring in my bed.
“Morning, dear. Here’s your coffee,” Grandma Claire says, Cookie on her lap at the table. She slides a cup to me. She’s already dressed, her red pantsuit screaming at me from across the table. A green hat perches on top of her perfectly permed hair. She looks like a Christmas ornament at our table. I smile.
“Thanks,” I say, grabbing the cup of coffee that is lukewarm at best and has the consistency of tar. I take the tiniest sip possible and try not to gag.
“You better get that coffee down. We need to get going.”
“Going? Where are we going?” I ask, confused. Mom didn’t say anything about Grandma Claire going anywhere.
“To the casino, silly girl. It’s Thursday. It’s senior day. And since you’re home, I figured I didn’t need to ride up with my friends. I thought you’d take me.”
I raise an eyebrow. I didn’t realize Grandma had a standing casino date every Thursday. Then again, most Thursdays I’m off work, I either get a pedicure or spend the day watching Netflix.
“Um, okay. Does Mom know?”
“Of course your mother doesn’t know. I’m old but I’m not stupid. It’s none of that old bat’s business where I go or what I spend my money on.”
I smirk at Grandma’s sass. It’s probably a terrible idea. But for some reason, Grandma Claire’s taking ownership of her life and silently pulling one over on Mom is appealing. I set my coffee cup down and say, “I’ll just go get changed.”
“Put something nice on. There might be some hot casino workers. And make sure you have on good underwear.”
“Grandma,” I say, feeling my cheeks warm.
“Just saying. I’ve got my Victoria’s Secret on. And they’re lacy.”
“Oh my God,” I exclaim, rushing toward my room and shutting the door. I’d forgotten how over-the-top that woman is. I think she gets worse as she ages, her censor deadening.
I shake my head, thinking this is a terrible idea. Mom would be pissed if she knew I was taking Grandma Claire out to the casino, what Mom calls the devil’s arena.
This thought alone makes me rush toward my closet and shove some clothes on. If Mom disapproves, it can’t be that bad of an idea, can it? Besides, it’ll do me good to get out and frivolously toss some money away, although this is exactly the thing I never do. In fact, it’s the kind of thing a month ago, I’d have yelled at Luke for.
No time like the present to loosen up the morals, though, and explore a little. Maybe Grandma Claire can show me a thing or two about living a little.
And who knows, maybe she’s right about the casino workers. It’s time I stop sulking and stop looking to the past. If I don’t feel optimistic about my choice and about the future, well, I’ll just have to fake it until I make it, good underwear and all.
***
“That Lou wasn’t too bad,” Grandma Claire exclaims as we get to her machine.
“Grandma, don’t distract me from the problem at hand. I can’t believe you brought Trixie,” I whisper in a hushed voice, leading her past security and trying not to look suspicious.
Grandma just clutches tightly to her huge Michael Kors bag—which is currently housing her twenty-two-year-old cat, Trixie. I’m failing already at the whole escorting Grandma to the casino and keeping her out of trouble thing.
“First, acknowledge that Lou wasn’t too bad.”
Lou is the security guard at the front door. Lou is also about thirty years my elder.
“If you say so, Grandma. But we’ve got more pressing issues. We need to get home. We cannot have a cat in here.”
“Oh, hush. I couldn’t leave Trixie at home. She’s old. What if she died? I’d never forgive myself.”
“Well, shoving her in a bag probably isn’t helping things. She can’t even move in there. How did you even bring her along? I didn’t even hear her.”
“Trixie doesn’t meow much anymore. And don’t worry. I put some food in there, and we’ll get her some water from the drink fountain. I do this all the time. Trixie’s a pro. She’s my good luck charm.”
I cringe, shaking my head as Grandma plops down at the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory machine. This can’t be happening.
But Grandma just sits and unzips her purse a little, the old, wheezy cat sticking her head out the hole. There’s so much wrong with this scene, especially since I’m a vet.
Nonetheless, looking at the cat as Grandma scratches her chin, she does look comfortable and used to it all. Of course, she’s also half-deaf and so old, she probably doesn’t even know where she is. I succumb to the madness, plopping down in a seat beside her.
“Come on, Lila, loosen up. It’s all good. Have fun. Spend money. May the fates be with you.”
Deciding it’s no use arguing, I grab a twenty from my purse and decide to go all in, my crazy Grandma and Trixie by my side.
When the minigame on my machine is triggered, Grandma Claire almost leaps out of her seat, and Trixie lets out a meow. A worker nearby eyes us suspiciously, but I cough to cover the noise. He keeps on walking.
“You got a minigame! You did it! Now we just have to hope for the golden ticket and you’ll be a winner.”
My excitement is short-lived. The golden ticket.
That’s what I jokingly used to call Luke. Dammit, does everything have to remind me of him?
I bite my lip, trying to repress the memory of him dancing with me in the kitchen, singing the golden-ticket song from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
I shake my head, trying to get rid of the image. When the minigame is done with all its embarrassingly loud hoopla, I frown.
I’ve won fifty cents after all of that. I just don’t think the fates are on my side, or maybe Trixie isn’t as much good luck as Grandma thinks.
“Rats, Trixie. No luck here. Let’s go get you a drink and then we’ll head to the Alice in Wonderland machine.”
I watch Grandma totter over to the self-serve fountain and pour Trixie a cup of water. The cat, as if trained, stretches its neck out to lap up its water. A few elderly women eye the scene but don’t say a word, Grandma’s glare challenging them.
I smile at how crazy my life is now, because if I don’t smile, I just might cry.
***
It’s back to reality the next day and back to the office—not that this is a bad thing after my trip to the casino and all its excitement. Grandma was thrilled because she managed to win fifty bucks.
No use explaining to her that she spent one hundred. What’s funnier, she actually pointed to the gamblers anonymous hotline and made a joke of it. I didn’t explain to her that she was a few more Thursdays away from needing it.
Leaving the house at the crack of dawn before even Mom and Dad were up, I patted Henry on the head, kissing him goodbye. He’d be alone with Grandma Claire today after Mom and Dad headed to their respective offices.
Oh, the horror. Hopefully he was just in for a day of game shows and soap operas, but with Grandma Claire, who knew. He could be on a plane to Vegas for the afternoon.
When I get to the office, Zoey’s already organizing files. “Hey, you. How was your day off yesterday?”
“You have no idea,” I say, leaning on the perfectly clean counter, enjoying the calm before the storm once office hours officially begin.
“I can only imagine. Moving back home and all. Must be scary.”
This would seem rude coming from a coworker, but Zoey isn’t your average coworker. We’ve been best friends since junior high. She paid for my lunch on the first day of seventh grade when I’d forgotten my lunch money. The friendship blossomed over the years into sleepovers, cover stories for our high school sneak outs, and wholesome, honest truths.
“Yeah, it is. You know how good old Lucy Morrow is.”
“Demanding? Condescending? Manipulative?” Zoey asks. She’s been privy to the inner truth of the horror that is my mother.
“You’ve got it. Although, mercifully, she doesn’t have any vacation days left, so she’s been working a lot. Yesterday was just me and Grandma Claire.”
“Oh, no. Did you two get into trouble?”
“If by trouble you mean Grandma Claire made me drive her to the casino behind my parents’ backs and snuck Trixie in her purse, then yeah. But officially, we didn’t get caught, so I guess that’s a good sign.”
Zoey hands me my cup of coffee, going above and beyond her vet tech duties. She knows I’m not a morning person. “Sounds like a blast. I’ll drive Grandma Claire any day she wants.”
“Please don’t encourage her. Who is on the lineup today?”
“Um, let’s see. You’ve got Carl the beagle and Julia the parakeet. Both in for checkups.”
I shake my head. Julia the parakeet, owned by Mrs. Saten—yes, pronounced exactly as you’re thinking and perhaps a bit accurate of a description—is in at least once a month for a checkup. The damn bird bites me every time, and every time Mrs. Saten insists I taunted it, am a horrible vet, and will be getting a terrible Yelp review for it.
“Oh, God. Anyone else?” I ask, hoping the day doesn’t get much worse.
“A few new patients, a sick elkhound, and a hamster in for a checkup. Nothing extraordinary.”
“Good. I could use some regular days.”
“Besides Lucy Morrow, how are you doing? Really.” Zoey leans on the counter near me now as I gulp my coffee.
I shrug. “Okay.”
“Don’t lie to me, Lila. I’ve known you since the time butterfly clips and choker tattoo necklaces were cool. I know when you’re lying.”
“All right. It sucks. I just, I hate doubting myself. I thought breaking up with Luke was going to be the best thing for me, that it was going to get my life on track and get me headed in the direction I wanted. But it just actually feels like everything is falling apart.”
Zoey nudges me. “Hey, chin up. Of course it’s going to feel that way. It hasn’t been that long—what, like a couple weeks? Give it time. You need to regroup. You had forever planned with him, or at least the start of it. You can pack the boxes and move out, but you can’t separate two lives that quickly. It’s going to take time. And then, once you get over the initial shock of it all, you’ll find your way. Right now, you’re just thinking about all the good things. But don’t forget about the things that made you call it quits. You can’t settle in love, Lila. You know that.”
I give her a weak grin, leaning on her shoulder. “When did you get so smart?”
“When you were busy studying to be a vet and I realized being a vet tech was easier, less stress, and more fun.”
“You’ve got me there. Trade me?”
“Ha,” she says, “you wish. There aren’t enough dollar signs in the world to make me take on that damn parakeet today. No way. You can keep your bigger checks and that white coat.”
I smile, thankful that even if my grandma is sneaking cats into casinos and my mom is probably going to be intolerable to live with, I do have the greatest friend a girl could ask for.