Tidy Hearts

Mom poured stiff drinks.

Growing up, 

I wondered if my name

ever rang a bell.

On her birthday,

Carole King, played—

each song, a raw nerve.

Grandma baked a cake,

thirty-two candles,

tidy house, 

beer cans hidden, 

ashtrays put away.

“How’s school, squirt?”

Her tone, lighter than usual.

I smiled.

“4.0 this semester.” 

Grandpa smoked. 

“You’re something else, kid.”

“I’m serious, guys.” I held out the report card.

“Have a look.”

She adjusted her glasses. “He’s right.” 

Eyebrows lifted.

“I’m proud of you.”

“It's Mom,” I said, looking down.

“What?” Grandpa frowned.

“Another boyfriend?”

I shook my head. 

“No."

“What is it then?”

“She’s better,” I said, 

clearing a tear.

“Good, sweetheart,” 

she said, arms around me.

“I want a life,” 

I whispered, raking my hair.

“You go to college next year," Grandpa said.

"You'll find plenty of—"

"Would you stop," she said, blushing.

“I can’t afford college.” My chin lowered.

“Nonsense.” Grandpa flicked ash.

“We set up a college fund for you,"

Grandma said, hand in his. 

“It was his idea.”

“Don’t go crying,” he said, teary-eyed.

I swallowed the urge.

“When your mom was low, we helped.” 

She wiped her cheek.

“We saw you when you felt unseen,"

Grandpa said.

"And I see you now," Mom said, embracing me. 

Grandma craned, waving. "In here, dear.

I invited your friend." She smiled.

I twisted. 

"Sasha." 

My face flushed.

"You know Sasha," Grandma said.

"I do," I said, my voice bundled with nerves.

Sasha hugged Grandma.

"May I?" She said.

"Why the long look?"

Grandma lifted a hand.

"You left your diary open."

"Should have known better," Grandad butted in.

"You read..." I swallowed.

"Can't leave a journal out

and expect people won't read it."

Grandad rubbed her shoulder.

My heart warmed at their love.

They teased each other in good fun,

and shared their love with me.

Mom chased a new high:

Love.

"You work with Sasha's grandmother,"

I recalled.

"My best friend," she said.

"Surprised to find she liked you."

I turned.

"Really?"

She tucked her bangs.

"I studied you in freshman biology."

She bit her lip.

"Like what you saw, right girl?" Grandma said.

"I'm..."

I sighed.

Mom stepped in.

"You're the only gift I need."

She hugged me, 

and embraced her future daughter-in-law.

Love shifted our course:

we graduated college,  

survived a breakup scare, 

the vows, white aisle— 

Mom sober, her husband, the pastor.

A diary of love and pain, 

stitched with hope, 

leaves nothing for granted.

By Andy Cooper

From United States

X: AC0040