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“You’re right,” Gina said.
“About what?” I asked.
We were at the restaurant I’d gone to with Charlie, at one of the tables by the window, splitting the mushroom-and-artichoke flatbread.
“There are supposed to be leaves everywhere.”
“I know, right? It’s fall.”
“No! It’s a sign. It’s my sign. For you!”
“It is? I don’t believe in that stuff.”
“Ha! Yeah, well, you’d better start believing. Do you know how much energy I’ve been exuding, trying to get through to you? Look for the leaves.”
“And I’m supposed to believe they’re from you?”
“Yes! Signs that we’re here. We’re with you. You’re on the right path!”
“You come down from heaven and plant them on the lawn?”
“No, smart-ass. I use my energy to make them appear in your path. And it’s not always literal leaves. You didn’t bother to notice the chiropractor’s business name on his card? Greenleaf Chiropractic!”
I rolled my eyes.
“Right in front of your face, and you don’t even notice. But at least you followed through with him.” Gina took a big bite, and a mushroom fell onto her plate.
I felt a warm rush as I thought about Charlie. “I like him.”
“I know.” She smiled. “And you’re right about not being where you expected but not wanting to change it either.”
“You do read minds.”
“No. Hearts.” She was wearing a gray T-shirt that had an image of a heart with arms and legs. It was holding a cigarette and appeared to be tap dancing. “You’re getting there, Jada. When you deleted Frontbook, I cheered.”
“Can it be all good times from here now? I could use a little fun.”
Gina was about to answer but couldn’t finish.
“Take me out to the ball game!” Grandma and Grandpa strolled in, singing. He was wearing a big foam number-one finger on his hand, and she was wearing a baseball cap.
“Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack. I don’t care if I never get back.”
“Let me root, root, root for the home team!” Grandma inspected our flatbread. “Whatd’ya got here? Pizza?”
I observed how happy and carefree they seemed. How could they be after dying young and leaving two little kids?
“It’s flatbread,” I said.
“Looks like pizza to me, and don’t mind if I do.” Grandpa ripped off his foam finger and started to grab a slice.
I stopped his hand. “Underwear.”
“What about it? I preferred boxers,” he said.
“Where were you when your daughters needed you? They were cooking dinner for themselves and seemed neglected.”
“Ah.” He made himself comfortable next to me, sighing as if he’d been expecting this difficult conversation. “Well, where was I? Working to keep a roof over all of our heads. And I was sick too, though I didn’t know it until the very end. Not that it’s an excuse. I was doing the best I could, but you’re right. I could have done better.”
“You didn’t see things from his perspective. You didn’t see his story,” Gina said.
“I saw two neglected kids,” I said.
“It’s amazing, Jada,” my grandfather said. “You get here, and you get to review your life and all that ya learned, and you see how it all played out. You’re not the same person you are when you’re living.”
“She is.” I motioned to Gina. “Well, kind of.”
“What I mean is, you’re the same person but without all the stuff that weighed you down in life, without the heartaches, the mistakes, the misjudgments, the wrong beliefs about who you are. I was a widower, trying to make ends meet, and I made mistakes. Did I know my daughters’ underwear didn’t fit? Those were the things their mother handled. Did I make sure they had enough money for their weddings before I died? Both of my daughters? Yes. I worked around the clock for that. I had my priorities out of whack, and some things you don’t see until you see them from here.”
I nodded.
“You never thought you would like living with your parents, did you?” my grandmother asked.
“Like is a strong word.” I chewed a bite of flatbread. “I’m kidding. I do feel a little closer to my mother, and I never thought I’d say that. It’s not in the same way she and Orly are like best friends, all up in each other’s business. But I do kind of like having my parents in my business in a way, helping with Ethan and waiting up for me when I went out with Charlie. It makes me feel less alone.”
My grandfather patted my hand. “When you were living in that big house on Long Island, if I told you that one day, you’re going to be back living with your parents in Queens, not working as a big, fancy lawyer in Manhattan, and that you’re not going to hate it, you would have told me I was nuts.”
“Bonkers,” I agreed.
“And look at you now.”
“Let’s not get crazy. My mother and I aren’t exactly best friends. And my sister still annoys the crap out of me.”
“When you hugged your mother, we all cheered then too,” Gina said.
Grandpa shot his foam finger into the air.
“So what’s next?” I asked.
“No ‘what’s next?’” Grandma said. “How about ‘Let me enjoy the right now.’”
“And it’s not a competition,” Grandpa added. “It’s not whether you win or lose.”
“It’s how I play the game.” I finished the corny line as a sort of peace offering.
“Yup.” He picked up his foam finger and tapped me on the head. Then he pointed it sharply in the other direction and declared, “Pizzas for everyone! Extra mushroom.”
When the new flatbreads were served, I grabbed a slice while it was still hot and gobbled it.
“Slow down, Jada,” Grandpa said. “There’s more where that came from, and we’re not going anywhere.”
I listened. I slowed down and enjoyed every bite.