we’d had for a hundred years. The orange monstrosity was indestructible, and your skin stuck to it if you were wearing shorts. But my mother refused to replace anything, ever, no matter what. She figured a staple gun and hot glue could fix anything.
I grabbed the blanket from the floor and laid it on the cushion next to my dad before sitting down. Even though I was wearing jeans, the memories of raw legs were too strong to chance. Naugahyde scared me. Enough said.
“Hi, Dad.” I leaned over and gave him a smooch on his stubbly cheek.
Raising his gaze, he smiled briefly, blue eyes bright behind his glasses. “Happy birthday, kiddo.” His attention immediately returned to the sports page. That was fine by me; we never had much to talk about, but if I ever needed anything, my father would move heaven and earth to get it to me. To any of us kids.
“As soon as Scot gets here, we need to decide what we’re going to do about Grandma,” my mother announced.
My grandmother seemed to be dozing in the rocker, but with her, you never really knew. She played possum a lot.
“I already told you she can’t stay with me,” my sister Alice said.
“Wait a minute. What’s going on?” I asked. “Why does Grandma need a place to live?” As far as I knew, she was happy in her condo.
My mother crossed her arms. “If Scot would get here, I’d explain it to you.”
I glanced at Alice. She shook her head and made the crazy sign with her finger. I resisted the urge to giggle. Most people thought Alice and I were twins, as we shared the same shade of brown hair and eyes. That’s where the resemblance stopped, so those people were blind, nuts, or both. She was easily two inches taller than my 5'6", thinner by at least ten pounds, and younger by almost three years. I loved her anyway.
My younger brother, Joe, with his blond hair and blue eyes, was the only member of the family that resembled my father. Of course, my father’s hair had receded to the point that he was almost never without a hat.
“Why’s everyone so glum?” asked my older brother, Scot, finally making his entrance. He looked fit, healthy, and tanned. In February, that’s saying something.
“You’re late.” My mother pointed. “Go sit with Alice. We need to have a family conference.”
Scot knew enough not to argue, so he took his place as requested.
My mother strolled across the room, her navy house dress swishing around her legs. She sat down on the other side of my father and snatched his paper. “Pay attention, Marty. Everyone’s here now.”
“I’ve heard it already, Isobel. Tell them.” He retrieved the paper.
My mother stared at him. The rest of us watched. We’d seen this power play our entire lives, and the outcome could go one of two ways. After about a minute, my father released his hold on the paper. “Fine, I’m listening.”
One point for Mom.
“Thank you. You can go back to it in a minute.” Turning to us, she said, “Your grandmother needs a new place to live, and she refuses to move in here.” Her eye twitched. “She says I’ll cramp her style. That means it’s up to one of you to take her in.”
Alice pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t have room. Otherwise, I’d love to have her.”
I suspected Alice was more concerned about the man living with her, unbeknownst to our parents, than she was about finding room for Grandma Verda.
“Joe has plenty of space,” I interjected. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Grandma to live with me, but I really didn’t have the space. My tiny one-bedroom apartment was barely big enough for me and my unpacked boxes. Not to mention my half-finished latch-hook rugs and paint-by-number kits.
Plus, as much as I loved her, Grandma Verda had some oddities that, while endearing from a distance, probably wouldn’t be as cute up close on a consistent basis.
My mother scowled. “Joe?”
My younger brother shook his head and frowned at me. “Last time Grandma stayed with me, her cat stayed hidden the entire time. She wouldn’t agree to it.”
I’d forgotten about Shirley. Only my grandmother would name her cat after her deceased husband’s mistress—whom she hadn’t even known about until the day of the funeral. Twenty years ago. As she’d only had that cat for about two years, I’d say she was still carrying a grudge.