Grandmother sweeps into our-my-bedroom and stops short. “Holy Mary Mother of God,” she says. “How long have you been holed up?”
“I dunno. What day is it?”
She gives me a considering look. “Tuesday.”
“A week, then.”
“It smells like it,” she says as she pulls a blanket off a window, pushes open the curtains, and raises the sash. Blinding light fills the room as a warm breeze brings in the city sounds from below. I try to burrow deeper under the blankets, but Grandmother yanks them off me before I can resist. “Up you go. Get showered and dressed. I’m taking you out for lunch.”
“I’m not hungry,” I say.
“I don’t remember asking if you were. Up.”
I know it is pointless to argue. Sighing, I roll off the bed and walk to the bathroom. Before I start the water to brush my teeth, I hear her rummage through my closet. I stop myself from telling her I am capable of dressing myself. This way I don’t have to see Tad’s clothes hanging useless next to mine.
After Grandmother approves of my appearance, we walk two blocks to the Korner Kafe. We sit outside, and she orders daiquiris and salads for us both. I find that I don’t mind being told what to eat and drink, and I wonder what is wrong with me. I never would have let Tad order my food.
“Tad hates this place,” I say after the drinks are delivered.
Grandmother takes a sip from hers, nods in approval, and says, “Why is that?”
“Pretentious. He thinks it’s someplace his mother would like.” I cry when I realize what I’ve said. “He thought that, anyway. Tad hated this place.”
“I know you’ll find this hard to believe, Anne, but you will survive this.” Her normally brisk voice is soft.
“I’m glad somebody thinks so.”
She gives me one of her penetrating looks, the same one she used to give me as a child when she knew I was hiding something. Back then I could withstand about ten seconds before telling her everything I knew. Age has granted me the ability to last twenty.
“I never asked to be a widow at twenty-five. I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Actually, you did. It’s called a marriage license.”
“Whose side are you on?” I ask, angry.
“Yours, but there aren’t any guarantees in life. You should consider yourself lucky because you’ve learned that lesson early.” She takes a breath and leans back in her chair. “I didn’t pull you out of bed to make you upset.”
“Yeah? Could have fooled me.” I say.
“I wanted to give you these.” Grandmother fishes a red velvet box from her purse and places it on the table between us.
I uncross my arms and open the box. Inside is a pair of topaz-and-diamond chandelier earrings. The stones are flawless, their facets catching the sunlight and sending rainbows onto the tablecloth. “They’re beautiful,” I whisper. I brush my fingers over them lightly and find them warm to the touch.
“They were given to me by Fred’s mother, after he died.”
I look at her, startled. I had forgotten that she was a young widow, too. She is looking at the earrings, but the smile on her face and the far-away look in her eyes tells me she is seeing something else. I close the box with a snap and place it back on the table. “I can’t accept these. They’re special to you.”
She comes back to the present and smiles at me. “They’ll be yours one day anyway, you know.”
“That’s beside the point,” I say. I cannot think of my grandmother dying, not yet. “I’ve nowhere to wear them.”
“Nonsense. You could wear these to the grocery store, provided you have the right shoes.”
“Grandmother-”
“Tell you what. We’ll call them a loan. When you don’t need them anymore, you can give them back.”
I can see there’s no use in arguing. “You’ll have them back next week,” I say as the food arrives.
“I’ll think you’ll be surprised,” she says as she places her napkin on her lap and gives me a wink.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I say as I pull on an embroidered velvet shirt and grab a pair of jeans from the cluttered closet.
“You need to get out of this apartment, Anne. It isn’t healthy,” my friend Pandora says.
“I get out.” I try to keep the defensiveness from my voice without much success.
“Yeah? When’s the last time you bought groceries? Or shoes? That’s what I thought,” she says when I don’t answer. She begins to pick through my jewelry box, and I am reminded of the first time she did that. We were thirteen, and my collection had consisted of rings that turned my fingers green and a single gold cross necklace. She had been appalled at my lack of style. Not much has changed.
“Just because I haven’t bought anything doesn’t mean I haven’t left this place.”
“Whatever. At least you’re getting out now. Today. With me. This movie we’re going to is supposed to be pretty good. That’s what Brad said, anyway.”
“Since when have you listened to your brother?”
“Since he started having good taste. Ooohh, where did you get these?” Pandora holds up the earrings.
“They’re on loan from Grandmother. She says I can keep them as long as I need to.”
“You’re definitely going to need these for at least the next five years. They’re gorgeous! Put them on.”
“Panda! I’m wearing jeans.”
She rolls her eyes. “So wear a pair of heels. Jesus, this isn’t rocket science. Put ’em on.”
I give her a look and take the earrings from her. She rummages through my closet while I struggle with the old-fashioned screw-posts.
“You’ve got too much shit in here,” Pandora says as she tosses a handful of Tad’s shirts to the floor.
“Watch it,” I say, my voice sharp.
“You’d have more room if you got rid of his things. It’s not like he’s gonna use them.” Her soft tone dissolves my anger.
“I know. But seeing his things reminds me that he was here, once.”
“I’d think seeing his things would remind you he’s dead.”
I sigh. “Yeah.” I finish fastening the left earring and wipe my face. The amber stones against my skin makes my complexion less sallow, my dark circles less noticeable. They are surprisingly light, and they warm my earlobes. I shake my head to feel their pendulum-like weight.
“Life’s a bitch, huh? Wowza,” Pandora says as she takes in my appearance. “You look hot. Here, wear these.” She hands me a pair of jeweled heels.
I suddenly feel too alive to object.
We are in the darkened theater when I hear it. I am enjoying the movie, laughing at an absurd scene, and I am thinking that Tad would enjoy this, too.
You’re right, I am enjoying it.
I stop and look around, catching a faint scent of licorice. “Did you hear that?” I whisper to Pandora.
“Hear what?” she whispers back, wiping tears from her eyes. I am jealous, because the last time I laughed so hard that I cried I was laughing with Tad.
Cut the shit. You were laughing at me that time.
“That! Did you hear it?”
“No,” she says, watching the screen. Laughter erupts through the crowd again, and Pandora joins the cackles.
I sit back and pretend to watch to rest of the movie.
Afterward, I resist Pandora’s insistence that we get a martini. Being social has exhausted me, and once I get to my apartment, I shed my clothes and fall into bed. I roll onto my side and an earring pokes behind my ear, reminding me I am not completely undressed. Grimacing, I sit up and begin to unscrew the post.
Don’t.
I freeze, hold my breath, and listen hard. I only hear my pulse in my ears. Licking my lips, I whisper, “Tad?”
Yeah. I just want you to hear me for a little longer. Please. Don’t take the earrings off.
Gooseflesh covers my body, and I smell licorice again. “Am I going insane?” I am afraid to speak above a whisper.