Starting From Scratch (25 page)

until I could not only smell it, but taste it. Feel it. And I

knew. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, I knew.

It meant something.

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CHAPTER TWENTY

Grandma looked tired, but happy to see me. I tsked at

the dark circles her eyes.

“Aren’t you sleeping well?” I asked as I unwrapped the

banana bread I’d baked the night before.

She waved a wrinkled hand dismissively as she put the

kettle on for our tea. “I’ve had a bad couple of nights,” she

said, clearly trying to allay any worry I might have. “It

happens. I’m fine.”

“Well you look exhausted. Don’t you have an

appointment with Dr. Garber coming up soon?” I seemed

to recall her saying something to that effect not long ago,

but I wasn’t sure. I suggested to her once that she let me

keep a copy of her schedule, things like doctors’

appointments, dentist appointments, hair appointments, so

that I could help her with transportation, but she would

have none of it. She didn’t want to “burden” me, she’d said,

with driving her all over the city. I was also sure part of it

was stubborn pride. She’d stopped driving three years

earlier when her eyes were giving her trouble, but she was

always able to find somebody in her complex to get her

where she needed to go. No matter how much I argued

that she was no bother at all, she only used me for a ride as

an absolute last resort. She hated “interfering” in my life.

“I went last week. She said I’m fine, just getting old.”

Georgia Beers

I snorted. “She did not say you’re just getting old.”

“at’s what she meant.”

“Grandma…” e expression on her face told me to

let it go, so I did. I may have been thirty-four years old, but

my grandmother could still shoot me a look that made me

feel eight again.

Once we settled at her small table, she seemed to

cheer up a bit.

“Grandma,” I said quietly. “I met someone.”

Grandma studied my face. “You met someone,” she

repeated, not quite following.

“Uh-huh. e mother of one of my tee-ball kids.”

“Oh, you
met
someone.” She studied me with those

green eyes and I squirmed, as I always did when I felt like

she could see right into my head. “So, tell me about her.”

“Well, we’ve only been dating for a short time,” I

began.

It might seem weird that I would talk to my eighty-

five year old grandmother about my love life, but she was

all I had in the world and I’d always wanted to be

completely open with her, even when that maybe wasn’t

the best course of action. I’d hesitated coming out to her

when I was twenty, but my first girlfriend had broken my

heart and I was a physical and emotional wreck; I wanted

the loving arms of my grandmother, the only mother I’d

ever known. My lesbianism wasn’t something she took to

immediately and we rarely talked in-depth about the

subject of homosexuality. I think it was just something that

was taboo to her when she was young, but she did her best

to try and understand. I wouldn’t say she’d been supportive,

but she never made me feel…abnormal or like a

disappointment to her. We simply didn’t talk about it. It

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was a fact, but we didn’t discuss it much, so to have her

asking about Elena in detail was somewhat surprising for

me. “She’s absolutely beautiful. Her mother’s Greek.”

In Upstate New York, in Rochester specifically,

ethnicity is a very important part of people’s background.

Italian, Greek, Jewish, whatever, they’re part of a person’s

identity. Everybody knows their heritage. Both Grandma’s

and Grandpa King’s ancestors were from across the

Atlantic, Grandma being Irish and Grandpa being

Scottish, I was taught this at a very young age. So telling

Grandma that Elena was half Greek was not just a way of

describing her physical appearance, but of telling a bit

about her upbringing, the morals and values of her family,

or at least of her mother.

“Greek, huh? What does she do?”

“She’s the branch manager of the bank over by that

new office building near Church Street.”

“And you’ve been…seeing this girl?”

I smothered a smile at her carefully chosen words. It

was important to her that she didn’t seem like a relic, that

she seemed almost hip, using the correct phrases and such.

“I have.”

“How long?”

“Not long. A couple weeks. We’re both really busy, so

we haven’t had a lot of time to spend together. But we’ve

managed.”

“I can tell by your face that you like her.”

“I do.” I studied my tea, still unnerved after so many

years that Grandma could read me so well. “I like her a

lot.”

Grandma nodded slowly. “And she has a child?”

“Yes. A son. Max. He’s a great kid. He helps me bake.”

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She chewed some banana bread thoughtfully. “And

you’re okay with that.”

My eyebrows dipped to just above my nose; I could

feel them. “Okay with him helping me bake? Sure.”

“No, Avery, okay with the fact that this woman you

like so much has a son.”

I shifted in my chair. I couldn’t help it. I was feeling

eight again, with her eyes boring into me like she could see

every thought in my head. “Why is everybody so

concerned about her having a kid? First Maddie and now

you.” I sounded more defensive than I’d meant to,

something that irked me.

Grandma raised one eyebrow. It was a very clear

variation on a line that went something like,
We know you

better than you know yourself, so stop playing dumb with us
. “I

can’t speak for Maddie, of course, but it was less than two

months ago that you sat at this very table and told me how

much you didn’t like kids, how bad you are with them, how

much you were dreading coaching that team.”

I scratched at a spot on my neck and looked off into

the living room, unable to meet her eyes. “I know.”

“Coaching a team of kids and helping to raise a kid

are two very different things.”

“I didn’t say I was going to marry her, Grandma.” I

tried to make light of things and shot her a goofy grin, but

as usual, Grandma could see right through me. She didn’t

say it, but I could tell she was just humoring me.

“All right, Avery. If you say so. I just wanted to make

sure you’re aware, that’s all.”

“I’m aware,” I said, relieved but somehow not. “Believe

me, I’m aware.”

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“Good. Now, when do I get to meet this…what’s her

name?”

“Elena.”

“Oh, that’s pretty. When do I get to meet this Elena?”

I smiled and cocked my head slightly, surprised. She’d

never asked to meet one of my girlfriends. I’d always

brought it up because I knew the whole idea of my

sexuality made her uncomfortable. “You want to meet her?”

“You like her.” It’s all she said, but it was the second

time she’d said it and it spoke volumes. Grandma
did
know

me better than I knew myself.

“I’ll find out what her schedule’s like and we’ll set a

date, okay?”

“Let me know. I’ll cook a pot roast.”

1

Dating somebody with a child was damn hard. Or

harder than I was used to anyway. I tried to be cognizant of

the fact that I probably shouldn’t just go walking down the

street and knock on her door every evening.

Which is exactly what I wanted to do.

All the time.

We settled for the telephone after Max went to bed,

and once in a while she’d catch me online at home while I

was working on whatever project was up next at the office.

Work would always go by the wayside then and I’d end up

chatting with her until it was way past my bedtime. She

was as witty and fun online as she was in person. She was

also damn sexy. More than once I ended up breathless,

sweating as I sat in my desk chair with my hand in my

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own pants like some porn-addicted male. Luckily, it was

more exhilarating than embarrassing.

It was new for me to be dating somebody that I

couldn’t spend time with every day…or at least every other

day. I am, after all, a lesbian and that’s what we do. We

move right in, figuratively and literally. I wanted to be with

Elena all the time, but I stepped carefully because of Max.

I had to let her set the pace and it was a little maddening

at times. Our work schedules, plus Max, didn’t allow time

for us during the week after the Fourth. at Friday, she

and Max headed to Niagara Falls for four days with the

family of one of her brothers. It was a trip they’d planned

the previous winter and I could tell she was looking

forward to it. I was gracious and understanding and told

her to be careful, have a good time, and call when she got a

chance.

Steve and I spent that weekend taking a couple of

hikes and watching a few movies on cable with me trying

not to think about how much I missed Elena, how it had

been over a week since I’d seen her, and how badly I

wanted to be in Niagara Falls with them.

I was in my office just after lunch on Tuesday when

my computer beeped for an incoming e-mail. I could feel

the grin split my face as I read:

Hey, Gorgeous –

We’re back, safe and sound from Canada. I just wanted to

let you know and I figured if I did it this way rather than

calling you, I could be a good girl and unpack, get some laundry

done, and catch up on my work messages. I know if I use the

telephone, we’ll end up talking for hours. Not that you’re not

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preferable to laundry, but I really need to get it done. You know

what I mean. I’ll call you tonight and we’ll catch up, okay?

Hope you’re having a good day at work.

Elena

PS: I missed you.

I, of course, could focus on nothing other than the fact

that she’d called me gorgeous and the postscript. It had

been nearly a week and a half since I’d last seen her. Since

I’d last touched her. Images bombarded me, images of her

naked body beneath me, her naked body on top of me, the

feel of her lips, her hands, the sound of her near-silent

climax. I couldn’t shake free. I felt like a drug addict going

through withdrawals.

Later that evening, I was tucked neatly in my kitchen,

an unseasonably balmy breeze blowing in from my open

windows. July can be very hot and very humid in

Rochester, but that evening was almost cool and the gentle

wind made the wind chimes hanging near my patio tinkle

prettily.

e knock on the front door startled me, and Steve,

too, apparently, as he sprang up and whacked his head on a

chair leg. His bark was quick, a staccato stab in the quiet

air and it made me jump.

“Shh,” I told him as I went to the foyer. “Relax,

buddy.”

I turned the knob and Elena burst through the door

like a gust of wind. She used me to close it, turning me by

my shoulders so my back was flat against the wood.

“I only have a couple minutes,” she said breathlessly,

her face only inches from mine. “My dad’s fixing the

kitchen drain and he’s letting Max help him and they both

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have their heads under the sink, so I snuck out because I

just couldn’t wait any longer to see you.” She took a breath

and smiled at me. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said, equally breathless. My head was spinning.

“God, I missed you.” My head thumped against the

door as she crushed her mouth to mine, no preamble, no

gentleness or lead-in. Just a full, deep, and thorough

plundering of my mouth with her tongue, her hands

gripping the sides of my head, and oh, my God, I was in

absolute heaven. I kissed her back, pushing against her,

then pulling her closer, the only sounds in my foyer being

our heavy breathing and the soft smacking of our lips.

Stopping for air, she rested her forehead against mine.

“So,” I panted. “You’re home, huh?”

“I am, but I’ve got to get back before the boys notice

I’m missing.” Pulling back so she could see my face, she

asked, “What are you doing on Saturday?”

“Nothing,” I answered, too fast, then nearly rolled my

eyes at myself. “Wow, how about that for playing hard to

get?”

She grinned. “My parents are having a cook-out. I

want you to come with me and Max.”

I blinked at her. Meet her family? Wasn’t that a big

step? “You do?”

“Yeah. My brother says I talk about you too much and

I’d better bring you home soon so they can all meet you.

You up for it?” I thought I sensed the slightest bit of

anxiety on her face. Did she really think I’d say no? “Max

will stay at my parents’ that night, so we’ll have some time

just the two of us later.”