Page 38 of Tainted Love

I nod, and we don’t speak again until we pull into the parking lot at Rose Meadows. I turn off the engine but Michael doesn’t make a move to exit the car. He turns to me—his tone unusually serious. “Listen,” he says. “Please don’t say anything about what happened with my brother. I don’t want her to worry.”

“Of course,” I reply. “What about your injuries?”

“Perks of being a hockey player,” he responds.

“Do you want me to stay in the car?”

“No. I want you to come in and meet the coolest woman in the world.”

Everyone in the building lights up when we walk in. All of the women, young and old, residents and employees, stop what they’re doing to greet him. And, of course, he eats it up. The man flirts with everyone, but it’s harmless and makes everyone’s day.

Everyone is particularly interested in me. Evidently, he’s never brought anyone in here before and it’s the most exciting news to hit the hallways in years.

As we go to his grandmother’s room, I can understand why he wants her moved. The place isn’t bad—it’s just… sad. Residents are sleeping in wheelchairs in the hallways, and people are calling out for help.

It’s easy to accept why he’s been working so hard to save money to move her, but what his brother did hurts me again.

We enter the room where Michael’s grandmother spends her golden years. It’s a nice space, small but inviting. In one corner of the room sits a hospital bed with comfortable-looking blankets. In the other, a lazy boy chair and a small television set.

The television is off, but there’s a small radio on. Michael’s grandmother is listening to a baseball game and knitting what looks like a throw blanket.

She’s an adorably small woman with thinning gray hair. Her hands shake as she moves the needles. As soon as she sees Michael, her entire face lights up. She struggles to stand when he approaches.

“Gram, don’t get up.”

“Nonsense, darling,” she says as she works to stand. He hugs her sweetly, and she disappears inside his large frame. It's adorable and possibly the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.

He releases her. “Sit, Gram,” he says, showing her the pink bakery box. “I brought your favorite.”

“That’s lovely,” she says before peeking around him and spotting me. “Well, now, who is your beautiful friend?”

“Gram, this is Sascha. We actually went to kindergarten together.”

“I think I remember. You two were like two peas in a pod,” she says.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Mrs. Tazman.”

“Oh, call me Ida,” she says sweetly.

Michael places some pastries on paper plates, and we eat while chatting about our week. I mostly listen.

“Did you get into a fight on the ice?” she asks, looking over his bruised face.

“Something like that,” he says with a sly smile. She tisks and shakes her head slightly. I like Grandma Ida. She is kind of a hard ass.

“How long have you been dating?” she asks, gesturing between Michael and myself. I nearly choke on a chunk of blueberry muffin.

“We aren’t dating,” I say before he can answer. “We’re friends.” Not even that, but I’m not going to trouble this poor woman with the ridiculous retelling of my relationship with her grandson.

“Hhm,” she says as if she doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t push it.

She proceeds to beat him at two games of cribbage as I sit quietly and sketch in the corner. My left-hand moves freely as I sketch, and although I didn’t have a plan going into it, I ended up sketching the cribbage board and Michael and his grandmother’s hands.

I’m momentarily jumbled and confused. On the one hand, we have Micheal Tazman, or Taz, if you will. He’s a cocky hockey player not known for being aware of anyone’s feelings.

But then there’s this man. He’s a doting grandson, and he’s so kind and sweet with her. It’s a different side of him that I never even knew existed. It turns out he doesn’t fit as neatly into the dickhead box as I originally thought. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

When we leave, she hugs Michael and then embraces me. “He’s been through a lot in his young life, Sascha. Don’t give up on him.”