Enter a miracle. My grandfather petrified me for a minute with his eyes but then turned to my father and said,
“She wants to, is all.” A raging river of sweat ran down my temples, and as my father said,
“Well, it’s about time someone did,” my grandfather looked back at me and I knew—he was not going to let me forget this.
We’d just had another conversation, only this time I was definitely not dismissed.
After the dishes were cleared, I retreated to my room, but my grandfather came right in,
closed the door behind him, and then sat on my bed. He did this all without making a sound.
No squeaking, no clanking, no scraping, no breathing… I swear, the guy moved through my room like a ghost.
And of course I’m banging my knee and dropping my pencil and deteriorating into a pathetic pool of Jell-O.
But I tried my best to sound cool as I said, “Hello, Granddad. Come to check out the digs?”
He pinched his lips together and looked at nothing but me. I cracked.
“Look, Granddad, I know I messed up. I should’ve just told her, but I couldn’t.
And I kept thinking they’d stop. I mean, how long can a chicken lay eggs?
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