Her house was rented, and it was tiny – one bedroom, one bathroom, a cozy kitchen, and small living area with windows overlooking the gardens of the much larger house that the cottage belonged to.
Technically, Grandma's place was a guest house, but it served her purposes – and mine – almost perfectly.
There was only one problem. Her landlady was a psycho. And her name was Loretta, my Dad's wife. But I wouldn't think about that now. Today, I'd only think about happy things, and that definitely didn't include Loretta.
"And I start in five weeks," I said. "Mid-November."
"Why so long?" Grandma asked.
"I'm replacing someone who's retiring," I explained. "They're leaving at Thanksgiving. This gives us like a week overlap for training." I smiled. "But then, the job's all mine. Can you believe it?"
"Hell yeah, I believe it," Grandma said, reaching out to give my hand a playful swat. "I justknewyou'd get that job."
"Yeah, but you've been saying that about every job," I said. "And none ofthosepanned out."
"Hah!" Grandma said. "Those other jobs sucked."
I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Total shitholes, every one of 'em."
Laughing, I turned to Josh. "Now, remember – "
He held up a hand. "I know, I know. Just because Grandma says 'shithole,' it doesn't mean I can say 'shithole.'"
I squinted at him. "You just did. Twice."
"That?" He grinned. "Nah. That was purely for illustrative purposes."
I laughed. "Well, if nothing else, I'm glad to see your vocabulary extends beyond four-letter words." It wasn't all that surprising. Josh had always been smart. He was in the gifted program at school and already planning for college. I might worry about his home life, but I never worried about his grades.
But Ididhave to worry about his school in more general terms. He was in a good one. And he needed to stay in a good one, which meant he couldn't move. He needed to stay right where he was, with my Dad and Loretta. This meant Grandma had to stay right whereshewas, next door to my Dad.
It was a complicated, but convenient arrangement. With Grandma nearby, Josh always had a place he felt welcome, no matter what happened. In my view, that made all the difference in the world.
"Shithole has eight letters," Grandma told me. "Count 'em, Smarty Pants."
Smiling, I shook my head. "Enough. Both of you. I've given up swearing, remember? You're not helping here."
"Yeah, right," Josh said. "You're worse than all of us."
"Not anymore," I insisted. "So, about the job, what do you think? Car supplies, pretty cool, huh?"
"Totally," Josh said. "Mom's gonna be so excited. She loves car stuff."
I felt my smile freeze. Mom wouldn't give a crap one way or another, at least not in the normal sense. "Yeah," I said, keeping my tone light, "I'll have to give her a call."
Even if I did, she probably wouldn't answer. But Josh didn't need to know that. He still thought she left by necessity, not by choice.
Josh had just turned thirteen. When I was thirteen, I'd felt ancient. But Josh, he had a sunnier disposition. Plus, I'd worked hard to spare him the worst of our parents' flaws. He might be a teenager now, but it still seemed far too early to shatter his illusions. "I'm sure she'll be excited," I said.
Yeah, she'd be excited alright. She'd probably ask me for a loan. I glanced at my phone. My waitressing shift started in a couple hours, and I still needed to give Chucky his afternoon walk. "I've gotta run," I said.
"On your way out, can you drop off some work at the mail shop?" Grandma said.
"Sure," I said, heading toward the side table where she kept the blue bin of mailing materials. The envelopes were there, all lined up and stuffed with flyers.
Grandma's job was stuffing envelopes from home. It didn't pay a lot, but it was easy work, something she could do while chatting with Josh or watching her favorite programs. It covered her rent on the cottage, and had gotten her out of the crappy, low-rent apartment she'd been living in after she'd lost her house, thanks to my deadbeat mother.
