The Kissing Diary by Judith Caseley

about that one.

7
    Rosie Goldglitt’s Grandpa Joe
    Dinner that evening was a Goldglitt lovefest for Rosie, Jimmy, and their mother. Rosie amused them by describing her skit over forkfuls of spaghetti and tofu meatballs. Her brother hooted when she told them about holding Mary’s dress together.
    â€œThere would have been more drama if you’d let it fall to the floor,” he said.
    Mrs. Goldglitt congratulated Rosie. “You don’t even like the girl, but you helped her out! I’m proud of you, honey. Love thine enemy,” she said, rolling her eyes to heaven, which set them all laughing.
    â€œShe didn’t even thank me,” Rosie said. “Nothing changed. But Robbie said I was cute!”
    â€œDid he say it sarcastically?” Jimmy asked.
    â€œNot at all!” Nothing could sink Rosie’s spirits tonight. She had looked up the word cute in the dictionary. The definition sounded even better than the word itself. Robbie thought she was “endearingly pretty,” and there hadn’t been a hint of sarcasm.
    They cleared the dirty dishes, and Jimmy surprised them by wiping off the table, a chore that he hated. Rosie and Jimmy did their homework in the living room and then settled down to watch television. Jimmy laughed at the he-man parts, and Rosie and her mother watched what the stars were wearing. The popcorn was salty, low-fat but tasty. For the first time in a long time, it felt like the family was working again.
    The telephone rang, and Mrs. Goldglitt answered. By the look on her face, someone had died.
    â€œWho’s hurt?” said Rosie, remembering the same expression when the police had called to tell them that their father had been involved in a traffic accident.
    â€œWho’s dead?” said Jimmy, voicing what she felt.
    â€œNo one,” their mother quickly replied, cupping her hand over the receiver. “Uncle Moe says there’s something the matter with Grandpa. Let me hear.”
    Mrs. Goldglitt adored her father’s brother. When Grandma Rebecca had ended up in the nursing home after a broken hip, Uncle Moe had come to the rescue. Rosie’s parents were in the middle of their divorce, and Grandpa Joe didn’t know how to make his bed, or pay the bills, or do the laundry. They all knew that Grandpa couldn’t live by himself. But who could take him? Rosie’s mother hated to see her father in a nursing home, but had put him on the waiting list to join Grandma Rebecca, just in case. Uncle Moe took pity and invited Grandpa to live with him until Grandma recovered. Rosie remembered hearing her mother tell her uncle, “I could kiss your feet, I’m so relieved.” Twice a week, Uncle Moe had taken Grandpa to the nursing home to visit his wife. And one day, Grandma’s bed was empty. She had died in the middle of the night.
    Rosie loved Grandpa Joe better than anyone. Before the divorce, he was her biggest admirer. He listened to her. After Grandma died, with her mother dating and Jimmy in his own world and Dad building a new life away from them, Rosie needed Grandpa’s ears more than ever. He rarely gave her much advice, but nodded his head or widened his eyes so that she felt understood. When Grandma was around, he had laughed a lot, as if the world’s problems didn’t touch him and life was expected to be good. After her death, the laughter had lessened.
    Rosie’s mother pressed the telephone against her ear, muttering, “I see, I see,” over and over. When she said goodbye, she sank into the armchair with a sigh that wiped out the evening’s pleasure. “Grandpa Joe is too much for Uncle Moe,” she said. “He needs a break.”
    â€œFor how long?” asked Rosie.
    â€œHe’s not staying in my room,” Jimmy said quickly.
    â€œJimmy, you’ll have to sleep in Dad’s old office. Your room is away from the stairs and next to the bathroom. We can’t have