Little Moments

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

           “It really stinks it had to rain, you just got here!”  My grandma said as we looked out the rain smeared window.

           “I don’t mind it,” I smiled still looking out the window, “I love the rain.”

           “Do you have warmer clothes?” My grandma asked worriedly. I looked down at my outfit. I slightly cropped black tank top and shorts and combat boots.

           “No, I had about an hour to pack and didn’t have clothes washed. I didn’t know I was coming here until two days ago.”

           “Really? Well your father and I discussed this in November.”

           I looked down at my bracelets. “My dad and I don’t really talk.”

           “Oh, I see. I’m really sorry.” She hugged me and I could feel the warmth from her oversized tribal print sweater that she paired with her black leggings. I smiled at her quirkiness.

           When we got to the grocery store the rain stopped. I grabbed a shopping cart as the cool rain scented air circled my body. Grandma had her list and pen in her hand. She would occasionally say hi to people she knew or would just wave.

           “I need some things for the book club. First we need to get some rice cereal, powdered sugar, chocolate…” I swear we were running around the grocery store. She didn’t get things by isle, she got things by recipe. One minute we were down the dairy isle and next the meat!

           When we got home I offered to help grandma in the kitchen, but she had other things for me to do. I put the snacks she made in multicolored bowls along the bar and got out bigger bowls and filled them with ice to put drinks in. It was twelve thirty when we finished and the ladies from her book club would be there at 1:00.

           I sat in the living room and scrolled through Twitter. It still hurt me terribly to think my dad just sent me off to California. I missed being at home in my room. I went into my room here and sat on the freshly made bed. Grandma had pulled some sheets and such for me to use. I laid down on the bed and tears stung my face.

           I woke up to a wild array of laughter and voices. I looked at my phone. It was 1:15. I ran my hand through my hair, wiped some black from under my eyes and went into the living room. All faces turned on me.

           “Oh my gosh! Alicia you were right! Her eyes are magnificent!” a short plump lady announced.

           I was then introduced to all of them. Bea Smith was the short one and then there was Marlene Oakley and Suzzane Caroll. I was bombarded with questions.

           “How old are you?”

           “16, seventeen on July 1.”

           “Do you prefer Pressato or Tetilla?”

           “What?”

           “Do you have Aphephobia?”

           “No.”

           “Do you know why someone named “Siri” keeps talking to me on my iPhone?”

           “Yes…”

           “Do you have a boyfriend?”

           “No.”

           Someone at the door knocked and thank goodness. There is absolutely no way I could handle any more of that. In some crazy mixed up way I almost liked it. People actually wanted to hear what I had to say and focus on me for once.

           “That must be Karen,” Grandma said walking to the door, “Always late!” she laughed. I don’t know who Karen was and didn’t care because she saved me from further questions.

           “It is raining cats and dogs out there,” a soaking wet woman said as she walked in with her umbrella.

           “Oh no, Karen!” a woman screeched.

           “What?” Karen yelled in shock.

           “You can’t open an umbrella inside!”

           “Oh god Marlene, you and all of your superstitions.”

           “Karen, I swear you’re going to be late to your own funeral!” My grandma laughed and all the other ladies laughed along.

           “It’s Drake. He’s just so slow. If anyone is going to be late to their own funeral it’s him!” Drake must be her husband, but why would she bring him to the book club?

           The door opened and a brown haired, green eyed teenage boy walked in. I swear his eyes were the color of emeralds. “Drake, it’s about time!” Karen sighed. He was wearing dark jeans and a fitted navy t-shirt that showed he was fit. His dark brown hair fell in loose waves just above his eyebrows. He was definitely not her husband.