read picture books to Lew on the couch, while Mom did the dishes.
I didn’t touch the bread box again that night.
C HAPTER 7
T he next morning, Gran woke me up again, but this time she didn’t sing. She didn’t say anything. In fact, I’m not even sure quite why I woke up. I guess I could just feel the weight of her, sitting on my bed, silently waiting for me to wake up. It was weird.
I opened one eye. “You aren’t going to sing at me again today?” I asked her.
“Saturday,” she said. “Doesn’t seem right on Saturday. Everyone else is still in bed, so I thought I’d let you rest a little longer. I was just looking at you, thinking how much you remind me of your mother when she was your age.”
I shifted and rolled over so that she wasn’t sitting on my foot. She moved and sat on my other one.
“Actually,” I said, closing my eyes again, “I look a lot more like Dad. Also, this isn’t really sleeping. You woke me up, and now you’re sitting on my foot.”
“Oh,” she added, shifting her weight back to the first foot. “Well, generosity was my
plan
, but then I came in to watch you sleep—because that’s the weird sort of thing grandmothers do—and I realized I wanted to talk to you about something. So here we are.”
“Okay,” I said, propping myself up on my elbows. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Well,” Gran said, “with all the commotion, it makes sense that you’d forget. I mean, you’re a kid, and there’s been a lot going on. Nobody’s mad at you or anything.… I don’t want to make you feel bad at all … and I didn’t say anything at first.…”
“Mad at me for what?” I asked.
“Your mom’s birthday,” said Gran.
I sat up the rest of the way. “It’s
today
?” The last thing I wanted to do was
celebrate
my mom.
Gran shook her head.
“Well, then, when is it?” I asked, falling back into my pillows.
“It was
last
week.”
“Last week?” I sat up again. “But nobody reminded me. Nobody said anything.”
“Well,” she sighed, “it is
possible
you would have just remembered on your own. It isn’t like you’re five years old anymore.” I started to protest, to argue, but she held up a hand and continued. “But you’re right. Nobody said anything, or did anything, and I think thatwas the straw that broke the camel’s back. Her birthday was Tuesday.”
“Tuesday.” I thought back, counting the days. Tuesday had been the day before Suitcase Day.
“Don’t feel bad, kiddo. It really isn’t your fault. You could have remembered, and that would have been nice, but
you
aren’t really the issue. Your dad blew it big-time.”
“But is
that
why we’re here? Because he forgot her birthday? That’s an awful reason, and anyway, it seems like she’d been planning—”
Gran smiled a weak smile. “Honey, I doubt he just forgot. I’m betting he was sending her a message loud and clear, but even if he just forgot, it made her feel bad. Anyway, no reason is ever
the
reason for something like this. It was the excuse your mom needed to make her move. She hasn’t been … very happy. I guess you could say she’d been weighing her options.”
“Why?” I asked, thinking about the fight they’d had when the lights went off, remembering the things Mom had said in the dark. Without meaning to, I reached for my locket and clutched it in one hand.
Gran’s eyes followed my fingers. “You have to ask her about that, but I think her well kind of ran dry. Nobody else was helping to fill it. So she got tired of drawing water for everyone else. You get me?”
“Not really,” I said. Wasn’t it a mom’s job to get the water?
Gran sighed. “It’s funny, Rebecca, how badly moms need presents. They do a lot they never get thanked for, so little things become big. Presents matter. In good ways and in bad ways. I betcha a lot of marriages have come undone after birthdays or anniversaries. Come to think of it, I almost left your grandfather
I didn’t touch the bread box again that night.
C HAPTER 7
T he next morning, Gran woke me up again, but this time she didn’t sing. She didn’t say anything. In fact, I’m not even sure quite why I woke up. I guess I could just feel the weight of her, sitting on my bed, silently waiting for me to wake up. It was weird.
I opened one eye. “You aren’t going to sing at me again today?” I asked her.
“Saturday,” she said. “Doesn’t seem right on Saturday. Everyone else is still in bed, so I thought I’d let you rest a little longer. I was just looking at you, thinking how much you remind me of your mother when she was your age.”
I shifted and rolled over so that she wasn’t sitting on my foot. She moved and sat on my other one.
“Actually,” I said, closing my eyes again, “I look a lot more like Dad. Also, this isn’t really sleeping. You woke me up, and now you’re sitting on my foot.”
“Oh,” she added, shifting her weight back to the first foot. “Well, generosity was my
plan
, but then I came in to watch you sleep—because that’s the weird sort of thing grandmothers do—and I realized I wanted to talk to you about something. So here we are.”
“Okay,” I said, propping myself up on my elbows. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Well,” Gran said, “with all the commotion, it makes sense that you’d forget. I mean, you’re a kid, and there’s been a lot going on. Nobody’s mad at you or anything.… I don’t want to make you feel bad at all … and I didn’t say anything at first.…”
“Mad at me for what?” I asked.
“Your mom’s birthday,” said Gran.
I sat up the rest of the way. “It’s
today
?” The last thing I wanted to do was
celebrate
my mom.
Gran shook her head.
“Well, then, when is it?” I asked, falling back into my pillows.
“It was
last
week.”
“Last week?” I sat up again. “But nobody reminded me. Nobody said anything.”
“Well,” she sighed, “it is
possible
you would have just remembered on your own. It isn’t like you’re five years old anymore.” I started to protest, to argue, but she held up a hand and continued. “But you’re right. Nobody said anything, or did anything, and I think thatwas the straw that broke the camel’s back. Her birthday was Tuesday.”
“Tuesday.” I thought back, counting the days. Tuesday had been the day before Suitcase Day.
“Don’t feel bad, kiddo. It really isn’t your fault. You could have remembered, and that would have been nice, but
you
aren’t really the issue. Your dad blew it big-time.”
“But is
that
why we’re here? Because he forgot her birthday? That’s an awful reason, and anyway, it seems like she’d been planning—”
Gran smiled a weak smile. “Honey, I doubt he just forgot. I’m betting he was sending her a message loud and clear, but even if he just forgot, it made her feel bad. Anyway, no reason is ever
the
reason for something like this. It was the excuse your mom needed to make her move. She hasn’t been … very happy. I guess you could say she’d been weighing her options.”
“Why?” I asked, thinking about the fight they’d had when the lights went off, remembering the things Mom had said in the dark. Without meaning to, I reached for my locket and clutched it in one hand.
Gran’s eyes followed my fingers. “You have to ask her about that, but I think her well kind of ran dry. Nobody else was helping to fill it. So she got tired of drawing water for everyone else. You get me?”
“Not really,” I said. Wasn’t it a mom’s job to get the water?
Gran sighed. “It’s funny, Rebecca, how badly moms need presents. They do a lot they never get thanked for, so little things become big. Presents matter. In good ways and in bad ways. I betcha a lot of marriages have come undone after birthdays or anniversaries. Come to think of it, I almost left your grandfather
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