Fighter

chapter 2

i gradually stir the large pot of pasta in my cramped little kitchen as my grandma walks in humming diana ross' baby love. i roll my eyes at how she manages to piss me off with the simplest of things.

"how was your day today, dear?" she pats my shoulder before sitting by the kitchen table. 

"uneventful. i left for work around noon, got off at 7. then i went to the diner to do my courses and got some reading in." i got scholarships to some great universities but decided against going. i couldn't leave my grandma. i'm all she has, and she's all i have. so i take college courses online while working jobs to pay half of the bills. grandma works for a phone company yet she still can't figure out how to use her own. i work at a record store downtown. i usually do my courses at the diner when my shift ends. I watched the water boil as my mind traveled to the pair of eyes still embedded in my memory. 

"oh," she perks up. "did you finish the book i gave you? did you like it?"

i smile at her exuberance. i hope the child in me stays that ripe when i'm in my sixties. 

"like is not exactly the word i would use. i just don't get it. why would such a great girl fall for a guy whose practically known for sleeping around? i mean she knows how it will end. once a player, always a player," i loosely remark while draining the water out. 

"ugh, darling. you can't choose love. trust me, you'll learn that one day." i find myself rolling my eyes, yet again.

"hopefully not anytime soon," i mumble.

"see, that's exactly when it happens. you don't have any interest in finding someone until, boom!" she claps in my face for dramatic effect scaring the shit out of me. "it gets ya like a virus. but, you know, a good one." she proceeds to flaunt her vaguely senile hand gestures. 

"a good one? well, alright patient zero. eat up." i place a bowl in front of her and sit across, still recovering from her antics. 

"this pasta is just delicious, dear." her words have hardly any impact on me. i know, even if it was the worst meal she's ever had, she would finish it without making a sound. she's always been so considerate of my feelings. i think that, because of what i have been through, she see's me as some fragile bird. i don't get it. if anything, my hardships have only made me stronger. i guess because she is so used to nurturing me, that quality of hers shows itself through everything. she has watched me grow up, yet i'm still that wide-eyed optimistic little girl to her.

"so, how 'bout you? how was your day today?" i get the engine running on a dinner table conversation. these are really her most honest of moments. when she's gulping down seven dollar merlot, and I occasionally sneak sips in when she isn't looking. i have drank before, but never in front of her. she has this ridiculous stigma with me doing the one grown-up thing she's never witnessed me do. i cook, i clean, i buy groceries, hell i even do the laundry. but it's this one thing i know would set her off if she saw me do. i get so lost in my own thoughts that i forget she's talking. she proceeds to tell me about her day while my hands slowly fill up a chipped mug. we can't even afford wine glasses.

"and then sherry dropped her car keys in the dog bowl! isn't that a riot? and a- what are you doing?" my views lifts to meet her despondent look. oh shit. busted.

"if you take one sip of that, i swear on heaven above you'll wish that wine was arsenic." 

i roll my eyes at her overbearing behavior, "why do you always do that?"

"do what?"

"treat me with kid gloves! do you not trust me?"

"of course i trust you, dear. it's your body that i don't trust!"

"are you kidding? i'll be fine. i am more than capable of handling a drink."

"it's not that simple, love. you and i both know your bloodline and that stuff doesn't mix!" is that what this is about? she thinks i'm gonna get addicted?

"grandma, alcohol tolerance is far from hereditary. people who get addicted are only using it to avoid their problems. it's their dependency. i would hope that you, of all people, know that i am smarter than that. i don't need something to substitute as my remedy. i dealt with my problems years ago. in an instance where i have a drink or two, i will be completely responsible. you know that? right?" she's left searching for the right words. we sit in silence for a few minutes before she speaks.

"i do....i do know that. i'm sorry, honey. after what happened with your parents, i-i just i c-can't l-lose y-you. y-your my whole word. lord knows the only good thing that came out of that marriage was you." by the end of it, tears were streaming down her face. i immediately rushed over and held her close.

"hey, hey, you don't need to worry about me. i'm a fighter."