by Sarah Title
She really, really wanted to play. Not just play, she wanted to rock the fuck out on her best friend in the whole world. She didn’t think Granny’s painkillers were that strong, though, and the poor woman needed to rest. Maybe if she didn’t plug it in.
She picked up Rosetta and ran her fingers down the fret before settling her body in her lap and strumming her fingers over the strings.
She played the first thing that came to her head, a nonsense melody that was basically anything not by Bunny Slippers. Joanna liked to pretend she wouldn’t be able to play Bunny Slippers music again, even if someone pointed a gun to her head. She was pretty sure that wasn’t true. No, she was definitely sure. She’d written most of it, a fact that would haunt her until her fingers could no longer play.
Instead she closed her eyes and plucked and strummed whatever she felt like, angry, choppy rhythms that reminded her of the stuff she used to play in high school. Not surprising, since she was surrounded by the vestiges of her former self—ticket stubs taped to the mirror, posters hung crookedly on the wall, CDs spilling over the wobbly nightstand that Trina made in shop class. Acoustic strumming didn’t have the same cathartic effect that making a shitload of noise had. Probably because she didn’t have an amp. It didn’t make sense to try to move it from LA, so she sold it to some creepy Bunny Slippers fanboy who wanted to take pictures of her sitting on it. In her underwear.
She declined.
Besides, even if she did have an amp, she couldn’t very well plug it in and rock out, riot-grrl-in-the-suburbs style. Gran was sleeping, and even her drug-induced mandatory rest would probably not stick once Joanna started playing.
Still, the sad, tinny noises coming from Rosetta seemed inadequate to fill her need for noise, and not fair to Rosetta. If she couldn’t rock out, Rosetta’d rather not play, Rosetta told her.
And, yes, it was totally normal to have conversations with your guitar, Joanna told herself.
“Sorry, babe,” she told her guitar, with whom it was totally normal to have a close, personal relationship. She put Rosetta back in the case, refraining from actually kissing her good night, because that would be weird.
She stood and stretched and tried to decide if she should clean up her room. It had been clean until Joanna lugged her suitcase in and knocked the precarious nightstand where someone—surely Granny—had made a neat pile of the CDs and other junk.
Granny made something tidy; Joanna destroyed it.
Yup, that sounded about right.
She picked up a random CD, the jewel case cracked, the hinge useless. The Best of Joy Division, but the wrong CD was inside. She dug around for the case that went with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and she found the mix Trina had made her for graduation, of songs by bands that were destroyed by being on the Twilight soundtrack.
Man, she missed CDs. In the interest of portability, all of her music was digital now, but she missed being surrounded by the physical manifestation of everything she loved. (Oh, great, another inappropriate emotional attachment to an inanimate object.) Whatever, Granny was the same way about books, so it wasn’t Joanna’s fault. She’d inherited the tendency.
Her phone dinged, and Joanna climbed out from under her mountain of memories, grateful for the distraction. But also a little apprehensive that it was going to be Mandy again, leaving another angry voice mail about how she’d screwed it up for them all and she was out of the band. Which was fine with Joanna. Totally fine. She would be even more fine if Mandy would quit calling.
This, though, was a text.
Bitch, I gave you 12 hrs. Call me.
It was from Trina, her childhood best friend and lead singer of Halikarnassus High’s badassest all-girl punk trio, Delicious Lies. Joanna smiled in spite of herself. She and Trina had gone off in totally different directions—Trina married an insurance agent, had kids, and got much better at making furniture; she was now a sought-after designer of handmade curiosities. Joanna, well, Joanna didn’t do any of that. But there was something about the longevity of their friendship that made those differences superficial. They were each other’s favorite old sweatshirt, comforting, uncomplicated. It was nice to be reminded that she had actual human friends. Not many—Trina was probably the only one—but Joanna could use a dose of uncomplicated right now.
But then she’d have to explain about her big break and how she’d blown it.
PS Sorry abt Granny. Tell her I’ll make brownies.
Joanna read the next text with a hint of jealousy. Trina was the only person from Halikarnassus she still talked to (well, aside from Granny, of course), and she knew that the two of them got together sometimes, and that Granny thought of Trina’s kids as her great-grandchildren. But reading the text, that familiarity born of two people who actually spent time together, made Joanna’s heart hurt a little. Not that she thought Trina would replace her in Granny’s heart, just . . .
Dang, she had issues.
One thing at a time, Joanna, she told herself.
Did you know about this dog??
Ha! The kids love Starr.
She seems like she hates ppl.
She does, esp kids. They love her anyway.
I think she hates me.
Prbly. Come over soon?
Don’t want to leave G.
I’ll get a sitter. Meet at Chet’s. Tell me when.
Okay. Ltr. Checking on G now.
Okay. DON’T IGNORE ME, GREEN.
Joanna smiled and tossed her phone on the bed. She should unpack, but she didn’t really feel like uncovering the adolescent nightmares Granny had left for her in her dresser. Instead, she decided she would actually do what she’d told Trina she would and check on Granny. Maybe she’d be hungry, and Joanna could scrounge something up in the kitchen. Then she remembered the towers of casseroles and the cute librarian being all nice and helpful. That guy didn’t look like a librarian, let alone a library director. But whatever. It didn’t really matter what he looked like, did it?
With a last wave to Rosetta, because she was a weirdo, Joanna went to check on Granny.
Chapter Five
A few days had passed since Liam had driven Peggy home from the hospital, and though all the reports that came across the circ desk had been favorable, he wanted to see for himself. And to visit with Peggy, whose company he enjoyed.
And, fine, to see a little more of Joanna.
The neighborly reports indicated that she was still there and still not being very welcoming despite all the nice things people were doing for Peggy.
He reached for the doorbell, but stopped when he got a good look at the series of notes stuck to the door.
Do NOT ring the doorbell.
SERIOUSLY, DO NOT RING THE DOORBELL. It makes the dog bark and that wakes the patient up and she needs to rest.
KNOCKING ON THE DOOR HAS THE SAME EFFECT AS RINGING THE DOORBELL SO PLEASE DON’T DO IT.
If you are bringing food, just leave it. I will come out and check hourly. DO NOT KNOCK WITH SPECIAL INSTRUCTIONS. IF YOU MAKE THE DOG BARK, I WILL DUMP THE FOOD OUT AND SIC THE DOG ON YOU.
Thank you.
He started to leave his offering on top of a pile of covered casserole dishes. He noticed all of them were labeled in masking tape, laying out cooking instructions and identifying to whom the dish should be returned. He wondered if he should look for a pen to label his contribution, but he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to take the credit for a bag of fast food. But he knew the ladies of Halikarnassus, and he knew Peggy and Joanna would be up to their eyeballs in homemade goodness. He also knew Peggy had a penchant for chocolate milk shakes and French fries. Still, his bag looked a little shabby next to the Pyrex and Tupperware.
He was about to leave, even though he knew if the fries were cold they’d be worthless—which was why he ultimately decided not to put his name on the bag—when the door opened. Joanna looked resignedly at the pile of food, but she picked up the fast-food bag first.
“Sorry,” he said. “That’s my patheti
c contribution.”
She looked inside the bag. “Bless you. Real food.”
“I’m pretty sure everyone else would disagree with you.”
“Normally I would disagree with me, but right now I’m tired of real, real food. Oh, God, fries.” She took one out of the bag and put it in her mouth. She closed her eyes. She leaned against the doorjamb.
He’d never look at a fry the same way again.
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes still closed. “And thank you for not knocking.”
“I read the note. Notes.”
“You’re the only one. I’ve basically been stalking the front door. Unfortunately, so has the dog.”
“She’s not barking now.”
Joanna looked away briefly. “I may have given her a Benadryl.”
“You drugged the dog?”
“It’s safe! I looked it up online first. Besides, she kept waking up Granny and then Gran would want to know who was at the door and then she’d want to visit with them, and she’s supposed to be resting.”
“I don’t think Peggy knows how to rest.”
“I know, and so did the doctor. That’s why he gave her painkillers. But she’s trying to stay awake for company, so she won’t take them, even though she’s in pain.”
“But she’s resting now?”
Joanna looked away again. “I may have slipped them into a milk shake.”
“Wow. You drugged the dog and your grandmother. You really are bad news.”
“Five out of five Halikarnassians can’t be wrong.”
“Well, I guess since she’s already had a milk shake, I’ll just take this one . . .”
“Nice try. I earned this.” She took a sip from the straw. He’d never look at straws the same way again.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, you’ve been busy with the drugging.”
“Hey, I’ve had to rearrange the fridge six times today. I forgot how much people in this town like to feed.”
“Got a problem? Put a casserole on it.”
“To think, there was a time in my life when I missed casseroles.”
“Ha. Halikarnassus will never give you that chance. If you stick around.”
“Ugh, no. The house is too quiet.”
“Says the woman who drugged her grandmother.”
“I know.”
“And her grandmother’s dog.”
“I know! Shut up and help me carry this food inside, will you?”
* * *
Joanna went back to make sure Peggy was still comfortable and to make sure Starr was still breathing. The dog let out a silent bark when Joanna leaned in. Clearly, Joanna had made the right decision, medicating the dog like that. So she shouldn’t feel guilty, and she shouldn’t feel a teensy bit better after confessing her sin to Liam. What was it about him? He struck her as someone who could take just about anything in stride. There was something sort of . . . absorbent about him.
And there went any fears that she would find herself romantically attracted to the librarian. He might be good-looking and compassionate, but she really didn’t see herself getting it up for a guy she thought of as “absorbent.”
When she got back to the kitchen, Liam was standing in front of the open fridge, assessing.
“I told you,” she said to his back. “No room.”
He opened the freezer, which was equally stuffed.
“See?” she said. She liked being right. For once.
“I am determined,” he told the fridge. He took a deep breath and dove in.
Joanna shook her head, but she was secretly glad she wasn’t the most stubborn person in the room. It was a nice change for her. Instead, she just sat on a bar stool, grabbed the fast-food bag, and watched Liam work.
He took everything out. Everything. She should be insulted—after all, she’d told him that she’d already tried to fit stuff in—but she was fascinated.
“There,” he said, once everything was back and the doors closed with only a minor push from the outside.
“Not quite,” she said, and inched a casserole across the island toward him.
He looked at it, and at her, then back at it. “That’s going to be dinner,” he said with confidence.
“Not hungry,” she said, tilting her head toward the empty fast-food bag.
“That’s not my fault, young lady.”
“Good God. You really are an old woman in a young man’s body.”
He flexed at her. “Better believe this is a young man’s body.”
She rolled her eyes, even though, quite frankly, she appreciated this young man’s body. “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem. Let’s just hope there’s not more outside.”
“Ugh. Surely everyone who knows Gran has already dropped food off.”
“I think you underestimate your grandmother’s popularity.”
“I don’t. Believe me, I don’t. I just . . . Didn’t anyone think I would be able to feed her? And us?”
“I don’t think it’s that. I think people just want to be nice. And they feel bad, so it probably helps them to be able to do something.”
“So they’re drowning us in casseroles to make themselves feel better?”
“That is a completely messed-up and cynical way to look at it, but then so is the idea that people are only being nice to you because they think you’re incompetent.”
“I’m complicated, man.” She balled up her burger wrapper and tossed it at him. She missed.
Chapter Six
Joanna was bored. Like, climbing the walls bored. Why had she thought Halikarnassus was a good idea?
She hadn’t. But Granny was a good idea, and Granny needed her.
Sort of.
Granny liked spending time with her, and it was mutual. But Granny did not need her. She was feeling much better and now spent more time out of bed than in it. She had friends dropping by every hour, it seemed, and enough food to feed a whole army of broken-legged grannies. Every time Joanna thought of something Granny might need, a neighbor rang the doorbell, delivering just that thing. Joanna was starting to think she was telepathic.
Or maybe Granny just had some really thoughtful friends.
“What’s on your agenda for today?”
Joanna placed a mug of coffee in front of Granny, then curled up in the corner of the sofa with her own. “I thought I was taking care of you.”
“Hmm.” Granny took a sip of her coffee.
“Why, you think I’m not doing a good job?” That was not her heart plummeting to the soles of her feet, and that was not her hackles hitting the ceiling. Not at all.
Granny reached across the table for Joanna’s hand and squeezed. Heart and hackles retreated.
“I love having you here and you know it,” Granny said. “I wish you would stay, not that I would ever pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.”
“Not at all.” Joanna smiled into her mug. At least Granny wasn’t passive-aggressive.
“I wish you would stay for the coffee alone,” Granny said. She took a sip from her mug and smiled. “I had no idea my coffeemaker could do such a thing.”
Joanna decided now was not the time to tell Granny that she had done the reverse Folgers switch, and that, while Joanna was here, she would never again drink off-brand budget coffee. Because the coffee Joanna had bought came in a bag, not a giant bucket, and it cost money. Which wasn’t fair because it was Granny’s money, but also she knew Granny would enjoy it, which was how she justified the expense. Granny needed a treat. And if Joanna was not forced to drink weak dirt masquerading as ground coffee, well, so be it.
“Do you need me to do something? Is that why you’re asking?” Joanna would jump through fire for Granny. But first she would make sure that she really needed to jump through fire.
“That’s the thing, sweetheart, there’s nothing I can think of. I have food, I have visitors, I have painkillers. What else does a girl need?”
Joanna thought about that for a
minute. Probably nothing. Well, coffee. But Granny had coffee. Sex. But no. Not Granny. At least not in Joanna’s imagination.
“I just don’t want you to get bored, that’s all.”
Joanna leaned her head on the back of the couch. Getting bored was the main thing to do in Halikarnassus. Halikarnassus: Come for the Family, Stay for the Mind-Numbing Boredom. Joanna really didn’t know how she could avoid being bored.
But that was not what Granny meant. Granny meant she didn’t want Joanna getting bored so that Joanna took off again.
Besides, after the chaos of the past couple of years, getting bored would be a nice change of pace.
It would be good for her to be bored.
Great.
Bored.
No problem.
Lots of time for self-reflection and stuff.
And Granny.
Self-reflection and Granny.
So fun.
“Oh, there is one thing,” Granny said, and Joanna nearly levitated off the living room couch with purpose and action. “I need a book.”
Joanna eyed the floor-to-ceiling bookcases covering one of the walls she was about to climb.
“I see that look. I mean I need one specific book. For my book club.”
“Okay. Do you want me to order it for you?”
“I do know how to use the Internet, you know. But I would like to start it today. The meeting is next week.”
“Ah.” Joanna tried to remember where the nearest bookstore was. Or if it was even still there. It had been ten years. Or the e-book. She didn’t think Granny was the type to do e-books, but she also didn’t think Granny was the type to go all stupid for running shorts.
“Liam reserved it for me at the library. If you could pick it up, that would be a big help.”
Speaking of running shorts.
Ugh, the library.
The last time Joanna went to the Halikarnassus Free Public Library, Mrs. Pratt glared at her so hard she had Trina check the back of her head to make sure there wasn’t a hole there. So what if, the week before, she had been caught making out in the biographies. Everyone made out with Dan McErlean sooner or later. And wasn’t it thrilling that books made her so excited? Besides, Dan didn’t last long. That fact was lost on Mrs. Pratt, whose philosophy was “Once a Miscreant, Always a Miscreant.” She had a cross stitch sampler saying just that in her office. Or so Joanna had heard.