Saturdays are for Savasana
I scratch my jaw as I stare at my stupid coffee maker for the tenth time since it arrived yesterday. Pink. She bought me a new machine—an exact replica of the charred piece of shit that is sitting on my garage floor now—but it’s fucking pink.
The OCD part of me wanted to chastise her and return it. But since I’d already upset her once over the damn thing, I wasn’t keen on doing it again. So, I called the station to regale those listeners about my crazy neighbor’s newest shenanigan.
“Mr. Wonka, have you called to tell us how wonderful and beautiful your neighbor is?” Lilith goads after she lets me know we’re on the air.
I snort. “Well, she is both of those things…”
“I smell a but,” Big D says.
“Don’t be gross, man,” Lilith teases him.
“Go on,” he urges. “These tales are the highlight of my day, along with every other morning commuter in Morristown.”
“My girl. My sweet, sweet girl…”
“Oh, I’m liking the start of this story,” she gushes.
“My sweet, sweet girl replaced my coffee maker. You remember the one she destroyed the other day?”
D snorts. “How could we forget?”
“How nice,” Lilith says. “I bet it’s so pretty…being new and all.”
“Real pretty,” I agree. “Problem is, it’s pink.”
Some fake audience laughter fills the line and then Big D’s laughing follows it. “No, she didn’t.”
“Yes, she did.”
“Sounds beautiful. Like her,” Lilith huffs. “You should send us a picture to put on our Facebook page. To show the WXOJ listeners just how lovely it is. I bet it’d get hundreds of likes.”
“Maybe I will,” I agree. “Should I take a picture with it?”
“Hell yeah,” D says as Lilith says, “No.”
“Why not?” I tease.
“Because you’ve already got quite the fan club. I’m sure if they got a look at Wonka with his pink coffee maker, you’d have to put a wall around your house to keep all the chicks away and then you’d ruin Story Time with the Lovely Neighbor.”
“Oh,” I say with a grin. “So taking a picture in my undies with my hair a mess early in the morning as I pour coffee from my beautiful pink coffee maker is a bad idea?”
“Actually—” D starts, but Lilith cuts him off.
“Annnnnd it’s time for a song. Bye, Wonka!”
The song that fills the line is “Pink” by Aerosmith.
I laugh out loud. That little brat.
“Don’t even think about it,” Lilith says, her hands on her hips.
“Think about what?”
“Taking a selfie with that thing.”
I grab her hips and pull her to me. “Is someone jealous?”
“That the station blew up with women begging to see you in your undies? Nope, not at all. I’m just looking out for you, Willy. This is how you’ll get yourself a stalker. You only have room for one of those in your life.” She beams at me. “This girl.”
I chuckle and kiss her bright red lips. “Whatever you say.”
My phone buzzes and I see a text from Grandma.
Grandma: I’m making meatloaf. Get your big butt here or I’ll be forced to drive all the way over there, grab you by your ear, and drag you all the way back. Love you!
“Damn,” Lilith says, looking over my shoulder. “Your grandma is gangsta.”
“You have no idea.” I turn and kiss her cheek. “Want to come with?”
She blinks at me in shock. “Like meet your savage grandma for the first time? Like tonight?”
“Yeah, like that,” I say with a laugh.
“I don’t know, Wonka. What if she doesn’t like—hey! What are you doing?”
Me: Sure. The usual time? I’m bringing a guest…hope that’s okay.
“Oops.” I flash her a wolfish grin.
She shoves me. “Ah! When is the usual time? I have to get ready!”
Grandma: Only if your guest is female. Also, swing by the Walmart and pick up a bridal magazine. See you in forty-five minutes!
“Wonka!” Lilith screeches. “Look at me! I can’t go like this!”
I admire her messy hair that’s piled into a bun on top of her head. She’s wearing old overalls probably from the nineties, a white tank top, and a pair of tennis shoes. “You look cute.”
“I look like I’ve been renovating a kitchen! This is not meet-your-Wonka’s-grandma attire!”
I clutch her cheeks and rest my forehead against hers. “You have been renovating a kitchen.” At least she’s been helping me gut the fire damage. “And my grandma already loves you.”
She grins, her eyes twinkling with delight. “Wait, you’ve told her about me?”
“She’s been rooting for a hookup for the better part of a year now,” I admit.
“Fiiiiine,” she draws out as she pulls away. “I’m going to run home and get ready.”
“Don’t get too pretty,” I tease. “I can’t have my grandma changing her Will tonight because she’s in love with my naughty neighbor.”
She taps her bottom lip. “Oooh, a Will, Will? This changes everything.”
Then, she bounces out of my kitchen, taking my heart with her.
“I must say, honey, you’re much prettier in person. My grandson never let on just how beautiful you are,” Grandma says as she admires Lilith’s red and white polka-dot dress.
Lilith preens under Grandma’s praise. “Thanks, Mrs. Grant.”
“Call me Babs,” she says, grinning at her.
Babs?
“What in the—”
Grandma cuts me off. “Oh, William, it’s short for Barbara. Close your mouth, son. I can see your tonsils.”
Lilith snorts out a laugh that has Grandma grinning wickedly at me.
“At least Skippy is happy to see me,” I start as I squat to pet my ex-fiancée’s old dog—a dog she had to leave behind when we broke up because she was suddenly “allergic.”
Skippy yaps at me and then runs around Lilith’s ankles, bouncing up and down as if he wants her to pick him up. She obeys and hugs him to her chest. The little yorkie licks her face enthusiastically.
“You’re so cute,” she coos.
He yaps happily in her face.
Grandma makes a big show of winking at me and then mouths, “I love her.”
She’s just happy because this is the first girl I’ve brought home since Presley. I say home, but it’s not really home. No, that home no longer exists.
Shame and self-loathing threaten to suffocate me. I’m tense and can’t meet my grandma’s eyes. Grandma must sense my mood because she pats my arm on the way to the kitchen. Lilith with Skippy in her arms and I behind her, we follow Grandma through her duplex. She claims she loves it better than my childhood home where she raised me. She says it’s easier to keep up with. Over a decade later and the guilt still eats away at me.
“You okay?” Lilith asks, her brows furrowed together in concern.
I lean over and kiss her forehead, earning some neck kisses from Skippy. “Just fine. I’m glad you came.”
“Sit at the table, Miss Lilith, and I’ll get Will to pour us some iced tea,” Grandma says as she walks over to the oven in her tiny kitchen. There’s barely enough room for the three of us in this little kitchen. Her old kitchen was huge. “Chop chop!”
I find some glasses and sidestep Grandma to pour the tea.
“Your home is lovely, Babs,” Lilith says as she sits down and lets Skippy back down onto the floor.
“I love this place,” Grandma agrees. “Perfect for an old lady like me.”
“You’re not old,” Lilith scoffs. “What’s your secret to staying so young?”
Grandma pulls the meatloaf out and sets it on the table. “Yoga, dear. I’m a yoga master.”
“Not to be confused with a Yoda master,” I tease as I set the glasses down.
“Ahhh, Yoda,” Grandma says with a chuckle. “William here loves Star Wars.”
Lilith gapes at me. “No way.”
I shrug and hold my hands up. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
She purses her lips together and a blush creeps up her throat. Last time we tried to get to know each other, we lasted about three questions before I was licking syrup out of her belly button. The breakfast. Her sexy stomach. Too many distractions. And since then, it’s been a whirlwind of banging sex and trying to outdo each other on who can find the coolest dives for dinner that doesn’t end in food poisoning.
“Besides,” I continue as I grab the bowl of mashed potatoes from the counter, “everyone loves Star Wars.”
“True,” Grandma and Lilith say at once.
We all settle at the table and dish up our food. I’d worried that maybe conversation would be stiff at first like it was when Presley first came to dinner, but Lilith launches right into conversation.
“Mmmm, Babs, oh my God,” she moans. “This is the best meatloaf ever!”
“Better than your momma’s?” Grandma fishes. Grandma always fishes for compliments about her meatloaf.
Lilith snorts and nearly chokes on her meat. She swallows it down with her tea and nods. “I don’t think my mom even knows what meatloaf is. She doesn’t cook. Ever.”
“Sounds like someone I know,” I chime in.
She sticks her tongue out at me. “One failed breakfast, Wonka. I’ll never live that down.”
“You ever want to learn how to make my meatloaf, honey, I’ll teach you. Lord knows Will doesn’t know how.” She whispers loud enough for me to hear, “All he knows how to cook is steak.”
“It’s the best steak you’ve ever had,” I grumble.
“So I’ve been told,” Lilith says with a laugh. “Is that why we eat out so much? Because we both suck in the kitchen?”
I arch a brow at her. “You’re the only one who truly sucks in the kitchen…”
“Be nice,” Grandma chides, thankfully missing my joke to Lilith. “She just hasn’t been taught. Not everyone has a culinary goddess for a grandmother.”
“Oh, here we go,” I groan. “Tell her about your nine-layer chocolate cake. Do you have three hours, Lil?”
“I have allllll night,” Lilith says gleefully. “I could talk about chocolate cake for nine hours straight. Are you kidding me?”
I shake my head at her. Such a suck-up, this one. I’m amused by her efforts to please my grandma. She’s adorable and I’ll reward her later. With my tongue.
We carry on a conversation, the three of us, and I feel a tightness that’s been present in my shoulders for years begin to unclench. This girl is doing something to me. She’s getting inside me and rooting herself there. Unlike Presley who felt like an obligation, Lilith feels like a sweet treat. Something I don’t deserve, but I’ll gladly consume. I’m addicted to her.
After dinner, Lilith starts to clear the table, but Grandma stops her. “Oh, no, honey. Not in the Grant house. In this house, the men,” she says, pointing at me. “The men clean up while the women do yoga.”
Lilith starts giggling. “I’m hardly dressed for yoga.”
“Yoga doesn’t care what you’re wearing,” Grandma tells her seriously. “Yoga cares what you’re wearing in here.” She points to her chest. “Your center. We’re going to find our center in my living room and embrace it.” She waves at me. “While he does the dishes. Then, we’ll all have my nine-layer chocolate cake that William loves to tease me about. He can just watch us eat it, the little snot.”
“I see. I’m getting schooled, huh?” Lilith asks, amused.
Grandma nods. “I’ll teach you everything my yoga instructor Lupe taught me.”
Maybe later I’ll show Lilith everything Lupe taught me when he emailed me some how-to videos. Thanks for that, Grandma. I still want to bleach my eyes. A grown-ass man rutting on the hardwood floors making orca sounds. I shudder. Perhaps I won’t show Lilith. I’m not sure I can stomach that one again.
They disappear into the living room and I spend the next half hour cleaning up. When I finally make it into the living room, they’re both sprawled out on the floor with their eyes closed.
“Ummm,” I mutter, scratching my jaw. “I think you just made up this move, Grandma. Us non-yoga folks call it napping.”
Lilith giggles but scrunches her eyes closed. Grandma, with her eyes still closed and her body completely relaxed, raises her hand and slowly flips out her middle finger.
“Savasana,” Grandma says.
“And you’re learning Russian too?” I ask.
More giggles from Lilith.
“It’s not Russian, boy,” Grandma grumbles. “It’s a yoga move otherwise known as the corpse move.”
“Sounds incredibly difficult,” I deadpan.
Lilith snorts.
“It reduces anxiety,” Grandma explains. “You should try it sometime.”
“Yeah, Wonka, come play dead with me,” Lilith teases as she pats the floor beside her.
Skippy runs over and rolls onto his back, his big, goofy tongue hanging out of his mouth. For fuck’s sake. With a grunt, I kick off my shoes and lie down beside Lilith. Her hand finds mine and she threads her fingers between mine. Skippy abandons his corpse move position and jumps onto my chest.
“Dog,” I grumble. “Stop licking me. I thought this was supposed to be calming me, Grandma.”
“Skippy can sense distress. He’s a human whisperer and right now he’s whispering that you need to calm your big butt and close your big mouth.”
“Did I mention my grandma is mean?” I ask Lilith.
“Awww,” she teases back. “I think she’s kinda sweet. Let Skippy kiss away your woes.”
I squeeze her hand and pull it to my lips. “I’d rather you kiss them away,” I murmur.
“I heard that,” Grandma says. “You’re supposed to be relaxing, not planning your attempt at making me great grandchildren.”
Lilith chokes and I groan.
Skippy yaps in agreement because he’s just like Grandma, dammit.
We’re silent for a good three minutes.
“I really want some chocolate cake,” I whine.
Lilith laughs. “Me too. Did we play dead long enough, Babs?”
Grandma huffs. “I suppose we can take a break from our exercising for some chocolate cake.”
I turn on my side and stare at Lilith, who’s already watching me. Happiness twinkles in her brown-eyed gaze and pride fills me. Lilith is fun and zany and beautiful. I’m not sure how an anxious asshole who needs a human whispering yorkie landed a girl like her. She stands and steps over me, giving me a glimpse of her black panties.
I may not be sure how I landed her, but I’ll be damned if I waste another second worrying about it.
“We better take that chocolate cake to go, Grandma. I’ve got some great grandbabies to go make.”
Lilith bursts out laughing and Skippy yaps happily.
And Grandma?
I’ve never seen an old lady run so fast.