Shiver & Fold

“If I gave money to every charity that called my number in a day, I’d be out on the street corner in a lawn chair, and I can’t even sing good.”

My grandma’s laughter vibrated against my ear as I padded circles around the kitchen. My Lab looked blearily up at me from his bone-shaped doggie bed. This may have been the most exercise I’d gotten in three days.

“Was your mother there on Saturday?”

“No”

“I called over to your house to tell your dad that on page six of the newspaper they had your name printed for graduating. I cut it out for you,”

“Thats good.”

“There were a couple other kids that graduated from there from the area, did you know them?”

“No probably not.”

“Let’s see,” I heard her shuffling something, “I’ll start from the top, Katie Abbotts?”

“No.”

“Andrew Miller?”

“No,” I distantly wished there were some way to explain cellphone plans and daytime minutes to old people without making it seem like I just didn’t have the desire to talk.

“Rebecca Fergusin?”

“No, grandma they probably all went to another school district,” I said and brushed an errant Cheerio to the floor. The dog lazily greeted it, more out of obligation than interest.

I heard her take a breath.

“I wish your mom wouldn’t spend money on massages, I’ve never had a massage in my life, and I don’t think I ever wanted one, do you? Strangers touching all over your body. Ewww.”

I grinned. But had in fact wanted a massage. Maybe it was one of those generational things like how grandma also didn’t like woman pastors, “I can’t hear what she’s saying because I’m just thinking about her fingernails, or makeup, or what she’s wearing” she’d told me in the line of a salad bar once.

“I guess I can think of a lot of other things to spend money on,” I said neutrally.

“You have to make yourself happy first, before a massage or a counselor can help,” she said and I agreed, but it was stale, like something a protagonist would learn in a young adult novel.

There was a minute where I thought my cellphone cut out.

“Matt was supposed to shovel out my car yesterday but he didn’t come. Doesn’t matter, I’m not going anywhere anyway. I may go out and sprinkle some salt on it just so it doesn’t get worse,” she paused and I think I was supposed to talk her out of it, “that’s the thing about getting old, you do things on everybody else’s timeline.”

I stopped pacing and looked down at the lines between the tiles on the floor. My sock fit against it snuggly. “I’m sure Matt will be over after work.”