Page 158 of Just One More Thing

“I’m better than okay. I’m liberated.”

Hank sniffs at her leg, deeply unsure about the new development. “Don’t be dramatic,” Granny tells him fondly. “It’s still there.”

Jake smiles and offers his elbow. “Need an arm?”

“I need twenty years taken off and a better gin rummy partner.”

“Is that a no?”

“It’s a maybe.”

I watch him offer again, easy and patient, and Granny finally takes it. She was always going to. She simply wanted the satisfaction of being asked twice.

The knot in my stomach tightens another turn.

Miss Hattie rounds the truck and stops cold. She stares at the empty space near the bridge. Then looks at Granny. Then back at the empty space. Her hand flies to her chest. “Where’s the scooter?”

Granny sighs. “They picked it up this morning.”

Miss Hattie looks genuinely devastated. “A piece of my soul left with it.”

Jake ducks his head, shoulders shaking.

“Don’t you laugh, Jake Wheeler. You didn’t feel the wind in our hair.”

“I heard the trash cans,” he says.

“That was one time.”

“That was several times.”

“Two and a half,” Granny corrects.

“We have lost our freedom chariot, Maddy. I will find it if it’s my last dying breath.”

Everyone starts laughing.

All four of us stand here in the September breeze, laughing, and I want to freeze the moment somehow. Take a picture so I can revisit it. Proof that for one minute all of us existed together exactly like this.

Happy.

The door to Holey Moley opens. Mrs. Kravitz appears first with her phone already raised. Frank follows behind her, wiping his hands on his shirt, and Mr. Humphrey trails after them.

Frank bows his head solemnly. “Rest in peace, pink cast.”

Mr. Humphrey hmphs in either agreement or indigestion. With him, it’s always a coin toss.

Inside, the radio is playing a song about getting past the pain and love finding a way. Of course it is.

The glass case has a SOLD OUT sign in front of the blueberry crumb bars that are very obviously not sold out.

Hank bounces off an inner tube and barks at it like it assaulted him.

Jake steps closer to steady Granny while she lowers herself onto a chair. It’s such a small thing. I’ve watched him do little moments like this all summer. Showing up before he’s asked. Holding doors. Making space. Remembering things. Taking careof people like it’s as natural to him as breathing. All those quiet things nobody applauds because they aren’t flashy enough to be noticed.

I’ve been so stupid.

Not in my usual way where I know I’m doing the dumb thing while doing it.