Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 149606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 499(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 499(@300wpm)
“What fun is having groceries delivered?” She peers up at me from behind the dark sunglasses dwarfing her beautiful, wrinkled face. “I look forward to you coming to take me to the store.”
She links her arm through mine, her other frail hand grasping a cane exactly like the one I bought Ember.
“I’ll visit you every week no matter what. I don’t come just to take you grocery shopping.”
“I know, darling. But as long as I can walk, I’ll do my own shopping. I don’t want a stranger touching my fruit.”
I chuckle as we slowly make our way to the entrance of the store. We probably look like we’re about to rob the place—both of us wearing dark sunglasses and silly hats. Hers a fedora, mine a black cowboy hat. It’s meant to keep shoppers from recognizing me, but the truth is, I wear the hats to see Gram smile when I pick one from my grandfather’s old collection. Last week it was a deep top hat. I’m pretty sure it was the same one Kenzi put her pet rabbit in when she spent weekends at their house as a little girl.
“Let’s each get a motorized cart and race down the aisles,” Gram suggests.
“You want us to get kicked out again?”
Her thin shoulders lift into a shrug. “It was worth it. I miss driving.”
“I’ll buy you a golf cart, and you can zoom around your yard all you want.”
She stares wistfully at the motorized carts.
“Okay.” Smiling, I let out an exaggerated sigh. “You can ride one, but I’m walking next to you.”
“You’re no fun,” she scolds playfully as she picks a cart. I clean it with disinfectant wipes before helping her climb into it.
In under an hour, she takes out two endcap displays of candy and paper towels, piles up fifteen bags of groceries, and insists we get red velvet Frappuccinos from Starbucks on the way home.
A pound of sugar mixed up in a slushy drink and time with my gram are exactly what I needed to pull me out of the slump I’m in today.
When we get back to her house, we’re welcomed by the scent of homemade chili she’s had simmering in the crockpot. My stomach immediately starts to growl like a rabid dog as I put her groceries away, and she gets bowls out for us.
“This looks delicious as always,” I say when we sit at her kitchen table. “My abs are gonna be obliterated by all this cheese, cornbread, and sugar, though.”
She waves her hand at me. “Nonsense. I was feeding you this before you even had teeth. Your abs will be fine.”
Laughing, I take a bite out of the cornbread and almost lose my mind. Gram’s buttermilk cornbread cooked in a cast-iron skillet is my top comfort food.
Ember loved hers with fresh strawberries and cream when we used to visit Gram years ago.
“You should take some home for Ember.”
I smile across the table. “I was just thinking about that, actually. I’m not sure if she’ll still like it.”
“Why wouldn’t she? It’s been her favorite since she was fifteen years old.”
“She’s different now.” I tell her about our dinner last night and how Ember doesn’t want to eat chicken anymore.
Gram’s mouth falls open. “Is that normal?” she asks. “To dress up a chicken?”
“I don’t think there’s any such thing as normal anymore. But she definitely doesn’t want to eat chicken now that she’s grown attached to one that’s parading around in sweaters.”
She nods. “I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that. I can see why it’d upset her.”
“It’s actually good that she’s caring about things. She’s not as detached. At least now I know. It sucked last night when I realized I gave her a dinner she didn’t want. Not exactly the best way to win your wife over.”
“I don’t think you need food for that, sweetheart.”
I push my empty bowl off to the side. “I dunno, Gram. We’re both lost. She doesn’t consider herself as Ember at all yet. It’s scary how she thinks of herself as a totally different person. She’s jealous of herself and the past we had together.”
“And how do you feel? Do you think of her as Ember?”
Leaning my arms on the table, I stare out the window at the flower gardens for a few moments. “Honestly?” I finally say. “It’s confusing as hell. Because yeah…she’s my wife, and she’s sitting there in our house, and everything feels normal, but then we start talking or doing something, and it’s just not her. Which I expected, but it’s hard. That crazy, intense closeness we had isn’t there. It hits me like a brick—I’m a total stranger to her. Everything we shared is gone. Our memories, our history, our entire foundation is gone. Our life only exists to me now.”
“I don’t think it’s gone, Asher. That kind of love can never be gone. It’s cracked in a lot of places. But I think it’s still there.”