It made me laugh, which in turn made Josh laugh.
“I work retail too, you know.”
“But you seem to love it. Not the work, but being in the store, surrounded by books. I wish I had that same kind of passion, and I’m supposed to be the writer. I used to love books more than anything, and now I look at them and they just make me . . . jealous.” Josh’s expression was heartbroken, and all I wanted to do was make him feel better.
“Maybe the books remind you that you haven’t finished yours? Maybe if you let that guilt go, you could find your love of writing again?” What was I, a therapist? What on earth made me say that?
But Josh didn’t get defensive or lash out, he stared ahead, contemplative. “That actually makes a lot of sense.” Passing the alley, Josh asked, “Do you live by yourself?”
“No, I live with my grandma. I have since I was nineteen.”
“That’s sweet. What about your parents? Do they live nearby?” Josh asked innocently.
“My parents died, another reason I live with Grams.” Why did I tell him that? I was getting way too personal. Someone please stick a piece of duct tape on my mouth.
“I’m sorry . . . I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. They were killed in a mass shooting at a grocery store.” Stop talking!
Halting in his tracks, Josh’s entire body language changed. He lifted his hand, reaching for mine.
Was he was going to try to comfort me?
A gunshot rang in my ear.
Josh’s face morphed into my attacker.
Luckily, I snapped out of it and pretended not to see his offered hand. “My grandma is great. I’m lucky to have her.”
Josh took his hand back, his eyes downcast, then responded, “Yeah.”
“Well, this is it.”
We stood in front of my apartment building.
Josh reached down to the ground and picked up a penny, handing it to me. “For luck.” He gently squeezed my hand shut over the penny.
Knees. Numb. Going to pass out.
I turned my head and stepped toward the door of my building. “Thanks for walking me home.”
“Anytime.” Josh smiled.
Another awkward moment, shuffling. What was wrong with me? I had to get inside before I ruined everything.
Waving nonchalantly, I opened the door to the building. “Good night.”
Josh waved back. “See you at the fashion show.”
As I entered the building, I poked my head out one last time and said, “I do, Josh. I do like you.”
Then I shut the door in his face.
Classic.
Walking up the stairs to our apartment, my brain was goo.
I do, Josh. I do like you. Really? And then what? Run inside my building like an absolute crazy person. I hoped I didn’t freak him out. But to be fair, walking me home was quite an ambush. I hadn’t been prepared at all for things like conversations or acting normal in any way. It was completely unfair.
Slowing down, I reached the front door and opened it.
Grandma walked out of her bedroom decked out in dancing gear. “I’ve been waiting for you.” She walked over to the record player and put on a waltz.
My grandma was the sweetest.
I really needed this. “Hold on, just a second.”
I placed my backpack by my bedroom door, then strode over to Grandma’s open arms, and we began to dance. She had taught me so many different kinds of dances over the years: waltz, tango, rumba, samba, mambo, quickstep, a little swing. Buster was one lucky guy if he owned any dancing shoes, and if he didn’t, I was sure Grandma would start his lessons soon. It had been her favorite thing to do when Grandpa was alive. They had even won a few amateur competitions in their day.
When Grandma first brought up the idea of teaching me to dance, it had been a month after my parents’ death. I had honestly not wanted to do a single thing, let alone learn how to dance. But she had forced me to my feet and taught me a simple two-step waltz.
It had been so freeing. It made me forget, if only for a moment, what had happened. My grandmother always knew exactly how to help me, to make me feel better. And now when I danced, I allowed myself complete immersion, which lately meant imagining myself dancing with Josh in some fairy-tale landscape or another.
But in this moment, I just wanted to be with Grams.
“Did you have a good day?” she asked.
I went with honesty. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Watching my grandmother’s face light up filled me with delight as she said, “You did it, didn’t you? You talked to Josh!”
Laughing as she twirled me in a spin, I answered, “I did. I actually talked to him yesterday too, but you and Buster looked so cozy I didn’t want to interrupt.” And I didn’t want to tell you I shot someone. Swatting the thought away so as to not ruin the moment, I continued, “He walked me home tonight.”
Grandma pulled me in with an ear-to-ear grin. “That’s wonderful! Did he kiss you good night?”
“Oh God no. We barely talked.” The horror and beauty of that actually happening overwhelmed me. I sighed, exasperated. “I don’t know what to do. I’m twenty-two years old, and I’m acting like I’m fifteen.”
Giving me another twirl, Grams said kindly, “Shy is shy. It doesn’t matter what age you are, trust me on this. But if you can muster up the courage, tell him you like him.”
It only happened ten minutes ago, and I was already having flashbacks. “I did. And he didn’t say anything.”
Grandma laughed. “Knowing you, you didn’t give him a chance to. You tucked tail and ran before he uttered a response. Am I right?”
Hey, no fair knowing me that well.
I had done exactly that. If our outside door had the capability of slamming shut, it would have as I booked it up the stairs.
I was such a coward.
Pulling me back in from a spin, Grandma smiled. “I knew it. Next time, give him a chance to say something. You’re so beautiful inside and out. I wish you could see that.”
“I just . . . don’t see myself that way.”
Sighing, Grandma nodded. “No one does for some messed up reason, but that’s why I’m here. To push you. And to remind you that whether you believe it or not, you’re gorgeous.”
Grandma stopped the dance to hold my shoulders and look me in the eye. “You and I are so much alike. Don’t be so scared of life that you miss it.”
Behind her, my attacker floated behind the window, blood oozing down his face.
Grandma’s forehead creased in concern. “What’s wrong?”
Instead of answering her directly, I asked, “What would you do if you shot someone?”
“Oh. I wasn’t expecting that turn in our conversation.” Grandma sat down on the couch, and I sat next to her.
“I know, but I’ve been thinking about it lately.” Think of an excuse. Think of an excuse. “Because of the gun you gave me.”
Grandma nodded, and her expression turned thoughtful. “I guess it would depend on who it was.”
“A criminal, someone attacking you.”
“Honestly? I’d like to hope that I’d take the moral high ground, but I don’t know if I would. People like that took away my daughter and your father. I hate that I think this way, but I feel like anyone who would murder someone of their own free will deserves to die.” Grandma leaned back on the couch as if this revelation shocked her.
“You wouldn’t feel guilty?” Because right now, I felt like dying.
“If it’s me or him? And he attacked me? I’d rather it be him. There are a lot more people who’d want me around than a killer. It’s why I got you that gun. You may need to defend yourself someday. We should sign you up for lessons,” Grandma insisted.
Lessons. For a gun I’d already fired into a human being.
Why hadn’t I waited? And what if I had? Would I even be here to contemplate that answer? Or would I be dead in front of the alley from Hell?<
br />
“Jeraline?” Grandma leaned her head sideways, sudden worry on her face.
When my eyes met hers, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Some police officers stopped by looking for you.”
Fists pounded on the front door, and I jumped off the couch.
“Open up! Police!” A muffled shout from outside.
“It looks like they’re here again.” Grandma shrugged as if it was a typical weeknight.
This was it.
I had to confess.
I had to tell her my side of the story before she’d never speak to me again. “Grandma, I shot a man with the gun. He attacked me. I protected myself, like you said.”
With a loud bang, the police busted down the door. Five officers raced in, guns leveled straight at me. Two of them holstered their guns and grabbed my arms, handcuffing my hands behind me. My knees gave in and I collapsed, but they held me up as they dragged me toward the door.
And Grandma watched, shaking her head in disappointment.
“Grandma,” I barely choked out, tears falling down my cheeks.
With a bright flash of light, I was back on the couch with Grandma as she stared at me with a different kind of disappointment. It was the kind where her expression screamed that she had disappointed me.
“I had no idea you’d take it this hard.” Grandma’s voice was barely above a whisper.
I shook my head to rid myself of the imagined nightmare and tried to focus on what she was saying to me. “Take what hard . . . ? I’m sorry, what?”
“Jeraline, are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’re going to pass out, and you’re sitting down.”
“I am feeling a bit dizzy.” Everything was falling apart, but I needed to know why Grandma kept staring at me as if I had kidnapped her puppy. Taking a few deep breaths, more for show than for actual help, I focused on her and her only. “Now what did you say?”
Grandma reached over and held my hands in hers. “I said I’m moving in with Buster.”
A bomb might as well have exploded in my face. “What!”
“Buster. We’re going to move in together at his house. I’m moving my stuff over there tomorrow.”
I no longer felt faint.
I was livid.
“Tomorrow? That’s insane! You’ve been on one date! You just met him!”
Tightening her grip on my hands, Grandma continued as if I hadn’t yelled at her for losing her mind. “I don’t have very many things. I’m leaving all the furniture and everything else here for you.”
She wasn’t listening.
She couldn’t hear me.
She didn’t want to hear me.
But I had to make her see that what she was doing was dangerous. It was worse than that. It was . . . I didn’t know what, but it was bad. “You’re completely rushing into this. Do you even really know Buster all that well?”
At least she addressed this, but not to my liking. “Roberta and Claire have known Buster for twenty years. He’s a good man, Jeraline. And besides, you know your parents got engaged the first day they met and moved in together two weeks later.”
I was a cornered animal, feral and needing to lash out. “At least they waited two weeks!” Yeah, I knew that was a failed argument, so I yelled, “This is absurd! It’s crazy! It’s reckless!”
Grandma laughed, momentarily breaking my tirade, her laughter had that effect on me, though a part of me wanted to hold on to all my terror and rage. Pulling my hands up to her face, she kissed them with affection. “You’re probably right, but I’m trying to take my own advice and live life to the fullest. I can’t be scared anymore. And I know it’s quick, but when you know, you know.”
Brain freeze.
Body freeze.
Grandma pulled me into a hug.
I cracked.
My mind cracked.
And all I could do was stay in Grandma’s arms, holding her tightly—maybe then she’d stay.
“I love you more than life itself, you know that, right?” she whispered in my ear.
Tears fell freely down my face as I nodded into Grandma’s shoulder. “I love you, too, Grandma.”
I needed to let go.
I needed to let her have this.
I couldn’t be the reason she stopped living her life.
Pulling back, I stood, separating from her completely. I managed a smile. “I really am happy for you, Grandma. I just need to process this.”
She answered, “Of course. I understand completely.” Grandma couldn’t hide the sadness from her face at my reaction. I couldn’t let her feel that way. I needed to make it right even if I didn’t feel it was right.
I just didn’t know how.
So, I did what I always did in tough situations. I changed the subject.
Leaning down, I kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to work on my dress. The runway show is on Thursday.”
Grandma didn’t skip a beat. She reached up and squeezed my hand. “Okay, sweetie. I have a good feeling about it.” Then she made sure our eyes met. “And Jeraline? It’s time for you to be happy too.”
Happy?
It seemed like such a dream, I wasn’t sure it was possible.
I was losing the only support I had in the world right when it was falling apart.
But I refused to let her see that, so I nodded, kissed her cheek and walked to my room.
Maybe sewing would help fill this growing hole in the pit of my stomach.
I should turn myself in.
I should turn myself in.
I should turn myself in.
Grandma didn’t need me anymore. She was leaving me. Maybe jail would be better?
As I gently closed my bedroom door the rest of the way, I came face-to-face with my fold-out table. It still had paper strewn on its surface with a few pattern pieces already cut out. I was way behind. I had tonight and tomorrow to make a dress good enough to win a scholarship to the school of my dreams.
I wanted it to be beautiful.
Which was kind of hard right now because I was sinking into a mud pit of despair.
Focus.
It was obvious I wasn’t about to turn myself in. Whether that was from terror or denial I hadn’t sorted through yet.
So yeah.
Dress.
Focus.
Focus.
I couldn’t focus.
I was about to lose everything.
Focus.
Grabbing the tape measure, I went on autopilot, drawing lines, roughing out the bodice pieces, then cutting them out. I wanted the bottom half of the dress to be huge, and my room wasn’t big enough to create an actual pattern, so I cut out multiple long, full circle pieces that draped to the floor with a smaller circle on top. That way when I sewed the small circles together, they would create the exact size of my waist. Then all I’d have to do would be to attach the giant skirt to the bottom of the bodice.
Sounded easy.
But took forever.
Creating the pattern became almost hypnotic, as I knew my own measurements so well and had patterned so many dresses over the years. Before I knew it, I was clearing the table off and laying the fabric down, cutting out the pieces for the dress. Grabbing some interfacing, I cut that out too, the stiff under-fabric that would make the bodice perfectly shaped. With a quick glance at my notions shelf, I was relieved that I had enough boning to sew onto the bodice as well. Boning was made of thick woven nylon that, when sewn into the vertical seams of a corseted bodice, would give it the rigidity it needed.
Glancing at my phone, the clock said it was midnight.
I could go a couple more hours.
Everything all cut out, now for assembly.
It took almost the full two hours to sew all the basic pieces together, the sound of the machine almost hypnotic and relaxing as it punctured into the fabric.
A rush of relief pulsed through me as I had at least the semblance of a dress in front of me. The bodice had taken the longest, since sewing in boning an
d a lining always took time even when I was going fast, but the bottom half was simply a lot of long seams. I didn’t have time to make a petticoat for such a large gown, so I’d have to buy one. There was a store not far from my house that sold them.
Two a.m.
I should go to bed, but I was wide awake. Sudden inspiration hit me, and I fumbled through my notions shelf once more until I found what I was looking for: tiny, eighth of an inch in diameter crystal beads. Sparkling like diamonds, I began to sew them on the bottom half of the dress where the bigger stars were printed on the fabric. Was I adding extra work on myself? Yes. Would it be worth it to see the universe sparkle all around me as I walked down the runway? Absolutely.
Beading was difficult and time consuming, and I’d never have time to fully bead the entire skirt, but I’d at least place the crystals on the largest constellations.
As I sewed a diamond on the star my parents named after me, I glanced over at their picture by my bedside. Instead of them dancing on top of the Empire State Building, they were lying dead on the ground, blood pooling around their bodies.
Snapping out of my delusion, I continued to bead the dress, my eyes welling up with tears that fell onto the fabric.
Before I completely soaked the dress, I needed to stop.
Placing the unfinished dress on my cutting table, I sat on the edge of my bed and picked up the picture of Josh.
It was time.
I needed to return this.
Stealing a picture and displaying it at my bedside was at best weird and at worst stalkerish.
“I’ll return you. No more fantasies.” Stuffing it quickly into my backpack, I zipped it up before I could change my mind.
And though my eyes were wide open, I lay in bed hoping sleep would find me.
***
Grandma put the last of her things into Buster’s car, which basically equated to clothes and some knickknacks. She wasn’t kidding when she said she’d leave everything for me. I did my best to not appear sulky, but I was almost positive I failed miserably.
Grams was leaving.
Really leaving.
Buster came around from behind with another pile of clothes. “This is the last of it.”
Jeraline's Alley Page 9