Page 55 of Tainted Love

As he approaches the front desk to sign in, his eyes scan the crisp white sheet before stopping on something that catches his attention. He looks over at me with a mixture of curiosity and affection. “You came to visit Gram?” His words are filled with warmth and familiarity.

I can’t help but smile as I reply, “Sure did. You were away for hockey, and I wanted to keep Gram company while playing some Gin and indulging in some eclairs.” It suddenly dawns on me that I never actually asked him if it was okay for me to visit, and I feel a twinge of guilt for possibly overstepping.

“Is that alright with you?” I ask tentatively.

A warm smile spreads across his face as he walks over and presses a sweet kiss on top of my head. “It’s more than okay.” His words bring a sense of relief and happiness to me.

Some of the Golden Gossip Girls are sitting in the entry area playing cards, and they witness the sweet gesture. This will be the most exciting news to hit the hallways since Mrs. Skinner got a new hip.

We enter Gram’s room and find her peacefully sleeping, her untouched breakfast tray on the table beside her bed. The room is filled with a comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and lavender-scented lotion.

Taz bends down and presses his lips against her temple, tenderly waking her from slumber. Her voice emerges in a low croak as she asks, “What time is it?”

“It’s almost 10:30, sleepy head,” Taz replies warmly. “We brought your favorite pink box of goodies.”

“We?” she murmurs, still groggy. “Is Sascha here?”

Stepping to the side, Taz reveals me standing behind him. A jolt of joy shoots through her as her eyes light up, and she reaches for my hand. “Hello, dear girl,” she greets me warmly.

With a gentle smile, I bend down to greet her. Her skin is soft and warm as I kiss her cheek.

“It’s so good to see you,” she says. “Why don’t I freshen up first and then we can catch up?”

With a nod, she shuffles off toward the restroom, her footsteps slow but steady.

The soft hum of the electric kettle fills the kitchen as Taz places pastries onto plates. “Does she look alright to you?” he asks, breaking the silence.

I consider for a moment before replying, “She seems fine. Maybe just a little groggy from being woken up.”

Taz’s brow furrows in concern. “She doesn’t usually sleep this late.”

“Maybe she was out late at a rave last night,” I joke. Taz chuckles and relaxes as Ida reappears, and we resume our normal Sunday rituals—chatting, sipping tea, indulging in goodies, and playing cards. Being invited to participate in the Tazman family’s weekend traditions has become one of my favorite days of the week.

“So, prom is coming up soon,” Ida says.

“On Saturday,” I reply begrudgingly, my voice tinged with reluctance. Dances have never been my thing, but our friends insisted we all go together. Maybe it will be fun.

My eyes flicker to Taz, who looks like a deer caught in headlights at the mention of the dance. We’re not going as a couple, just friends. I can tell he’s not thrilled about it, but he’s following the plan.

“Did you buy Sascha a beautiful corsage, Michael?” Ida asks with a hint of teasing in her tone.

His cheeks turn pink, and he stammers out a response. “We’re all just going as friends,” I interject.

Ida purses her lips. “I don’t understand kids,” she comments. “In my day, we went on proper dates.”

Taz lets out a booming laugh from his spot on the couch. “Yeah, and you probably rode to the dance in a horse-drawn carriage too.”

Ida playfully swats at him before turning back to me. “What color dress are you wearing, dear?” she asks, genuinely curious.

I smile and tell her about the deep purple dress I picked for the occasion.

“And I’m wearing a purple tuxedo,” Taz chimes in with a grin, causing me to roll my eyes. He had no idea what I’d wear when he chose his outlandish suit, but now we will match perfectly.

“Make sure you capture plenty of photos,” she says with a wink.

“We will definitely make sure to document this momentous occasion,” I reply with a laugh.

Despite our nice time visiting Gram on Sunday afternoon, this week has been unbalanced with Taz. His normally carefree demeanor is marred with an underlying tension that I can’t quite put my finger on. We all know that our senior year is ending, and it’s time to start thinking about the future, but Taz is particularly burdened by something. I’ve brought it up, but he brushes it off, reassuring me that everything is fine and he’s just worried about college. Then he pulls me into his warm embrace and kisses me until I can’t think straight.