The aid looks at the space in the room, then at me, flashing a smile. “Are you taking this home with you? I worry it might be a hazard in here…?”
“Yes, she’s taking it,” Gran says from over the back of her recliner. “Would you bring it in so I can look at it?”
I thank the aid and grab the box, dragging it over in front of Gran. It’s some sort of fancy, specialty box, and it’s not heavy at all but there are arrows specifying which way it should stay up.
“What is this?”
“Open it and find out,” she says. She’s practically bouncing in her seat, the giddiness making her voice more girlish even as itslurs a bit from the excitement. “I haven’t seen it inyears. It’s been in storage since your grandfather died.”
That hits me in the chest. Someone told me once that grief is a bag that just gets smaller and smaller. But in my experience, it’s like a cartoon piano, and I’m an unsuspecting victim on the street. I never know when I’m going to get crushed by it.
Working my fingers along the perforated seam of the box, I peel open the front of it like a book to reveal what’s inside. It’s a garment box, a plastic rod at the top holding something wrapped in tissue paper.
And when I pull that tissue paper away, Gran gasps.
“It’s just as beautiful as I remember it.”
I can barely breathe. I’ve seen this dress before—the sweetheart neckline, the smooth, creamy eggshell color. The pearls stitched in along the bodice that trickle down into the skirt.
“Your wedding dress? “I didn’t know you still had this,” I say, turning to her. She wipes some of her tears away with her good hand.
“There’s a little storage unit back in Maryland,” she says, her voice wistful, like she’s already getting caught up in memories of her wedding day. “When your grandfather passed, I got a small one just to keep the important things safe. And this was one of my important things.”
“Why bring it here, now?” I sit back down on the bed, the wedding dress situated between the two of us like a ghost sitting in on the conversation.
Obviously, I wasn’t around for Gran’s wedding, but during the few stints I was living with her, I spent some time on the floor, her photo albums spread out around me while I went through the pictures of her life.
Looking at pictures of my dad when he was a kid, watching him grow up slowly through snapshots and wondering at what point he went from being the kid in the light-up Mickey Mouse sandals to being the man who carted me around the world and taught me to pick locks and con people.
“Because I want you to wear it when you marry Luca.”
If I was drinking something, I might spit it out.
I twist my head around to look at Gran so fast, it puts a crick in my neck. “What?”
“Oh,please,” Gran says, waving her hand and doing a little shimmy in her chair to sit back. When her eyes meet mine again, they’re still wet from the tears, but shining happily now. “I knew it from the first time you started talking about a guy at work that you didn’t like. That’s exactly how it was for me and your grandfather. Couldn’tstandhim when I first met him. Must run in the family.”
“…Really?”
I should be pressing the issue of me marrying Luca, and specifically making it clear that it’s not going to happen. But it’s rare that she’s open to talking about grandpa like this. Usually, it’s too upsetting for her.
I’ve heard the gist of the story before, but if she’ll talk about it, I want to hear it again.
Gran picks at the fabric on her brace. “Oh, yeah. But that’s one of those things—we were just too alike. At first, that felt like a problem. But it’s like with you and Luca—you’re both so smart, and so clever. You’ll keep each other entertained for a long time.”
I bite my tongue to keep from listing off all the specific, important reasons that Luca and Iaren’talike. The fact that he grew up in a loving family that’s only getting bigger and more loving. It would make me sick if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m so fucking jealous.
And there’s the fact that Luca knows exactly what he wants out of his life, to the point of planning it to the letter. Hiring a wife. Other than having the money to make sure Gran is living somewhere nice, staying out of trouble, and adhering to my parole, I have no idea what my future looks like.
For a long time, I went through life not even knowing what the nextdaywould hold.
Luca doesn’t work like that, and there’s no way he’d want to incorporate such a wild variable into his carefully laid plans, hisperfect equations. He’d be spending far too long trying to solve for me.
“Maybe I’ll be around, maybe I won’t—”
“Gran, don’t talk like that—”
“—so I wanted to make sure I gave you the dress now,” she finishes anyway. “I’d like you to get it fitted so I can see you in it.”
