Spring Broke

“Come here,” Gran Gran had directed. “Let me see if I can fix those coveralls before your momma gets here.” I would quickly run to the bathroom, step out of my pants and slip on the robe that used to hang on the bathroom door.

“Eden, how many times have I fixed this very same pair of coveralls?” Gran Gran used to ask, peering over her glasses.

“This summer or all of them?”

 “This summer, last summer, the summer before that,” Gran Gran would chuckle. “Doesn’t matter. Pick one.”

Tapping my finger on my chin, I would attempt to recall the number of times I had sprinted to the linen closet to retrieve needles and thread. And patches, lots of patches. Then I’d watch, fascinated, as Gran Gran wove the needle and thread through the worn material. She often hummed as she sewed; sometimes she’d sing-songs they no longer played on the radio, songs deeply rooted in her soul.

“How long do you plan on staring out of that window?” Gran Gran’s voice lifts me from my whimsical summer escapades to the spring dewdrops on her kitchen window. ‘Didn’t you just see each other over the summer?”

“We did, but it was different this time.” Gran Gran’s raised eyebrow encourages me to go on. “There was so much to say, but neither of us wanted to say it. Like, if we talked about it, we’d have to try to figure it out, and if we couldn’t figure it out, it could ruin our summer and we didn’t want to ruin our summer, so we left it all unsaid."

“So, let me get this straight: in order to have a pleasant summer, you ignored talking about something that could impact your future?”

“Exactly!”

Gran Gran shakes her head and walks away. I can hear her humming as she straightens the books on the built-in bookshelf in the living room. Her song of choice sounds just like “Why Do Fools Fall in Love,” but I could be mistaken.

Every summer since I was eight, Mom would let me spend most of the summer with Gran Gran. It worked out perfectly: Dad wasn’t very good at leaving work at work; Mom felt guilty because she had to work during the summer and Gran Gran was lonely after Pop-Pop passed. That’s one of the wonderful things about summer–there’s no schedule! At least not for us. 

Some days Dad would pick me up from Gran Gran’s when he returned from a conference or Mom would come get me for the weekend and we’d go to the mall, get our nails done or just hang out at home in our pjs watching movies and eating popcorn. Occasionally, she’d spend a night or two at Gran Gran’s and after harvesting veggies from the garden, we’d sit on the porch swing until the sun went down.

The summer I turned nine, Gran Gran’s next-door-neighbor, Mrs. Genny, thought it would be nice if her grandson stayed the summer with her. Joshua lived in Los Angeles, she explained to Gran Gran. It would be nice for him to get away from the city for a while, come to South Carolina, run barefoot in the grass, climb trees and play with the little girl next door.

“I remember the day he arrived,” Gran Gran notes as she strolls back into the kitchen. “He was a scrawny little thing. I feared a strong wind would just blow him away!” She laughs lightheartedly. “Do you remember the first time he spent Christmas break with Genny?”

“Ms. Genny sent him over to shovel your driveway and he could barely lift the shovel! He fell so many times trying to scoop the snow that you told him to come inside and have a cup of hot chocolate and you shoveled your drive!” I giggle at the thought of pint-sized Joshua dragging that man-size shovel. 

Of all my Christmases, that one is my most memorable. It snowed for days! We had so much fun building an army of snowmen (although our grandmothers didn’t appreciate the dozen soldiers sprawled across their driveways). Sled riding, snow angels and snowball fights with other kids in the neighborhood provided endless hours of entertainment.  

“That Joshua is a good kid,” Gran Gran notes. “Well, a young man now,” she corrects. “With muscles.”

“Gran Gran!”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed,” she winks. 

“Welllll, he may be able to lift that shovel now,” I tease.

“It’s awfully nice of him to come all this way to celebrate Genny’s 60th birthday. I don’t believe he’s come on his Spring Break before, has he?” Rhetorical question because she doesn’t pause for me to answer. “Are you picking him up from the airport?”

I make sure that she doesn’t have any more questions and is ready for me to respond. “This will be the first time he’s visited on his Spring Break, and he coordinated his flight with his parents’ schedule, so they’re going to get him from the airport.” I glance at my watch again to gauge how soon he’ll be here. Not here-here, but at his grandma’s house next door-here. 

“I love that the two of you have remained close over the years. How many years has it been–10, 11 years?”

“Eleven years…Seems like I’ve known him all my life though. He’s always been there for those big moments–when Pop Pop passed, when I gave my high school summa cum laude speech, when I thought I needed a date for Prom, when I pulled all-nighters for my college midterms and finals. And even for the not-so-big moments like when Pup ran away. He couldn’t be here physically, but he stayed on the phone with me for over an hour while I searched the neighborhood for him.”

“And you’ve been a good friend to him, too. You were there for him when his Pop Pop passed and when Genny had a stroke and when he went through a rift with his parents and when he called you after every soccer game to share with you their victory or their loss. You were even there for him when he experienced his first break up…Never did understand that one.”

The water I attempt to drink spews onto the floor. Quickly, I grab a paper towel to clean it up. “We were freshmen in high school Gran Gran. He was in Los Angeles; I was here. We were trying to navigate the awkward and unfamiliar transition into being legit teenagers. If you recall, I had a boyfriend too my…What?”

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything,” Gran Gran chortled.

“He may not have been my boyfriend for all of my freshman year, but we did date.”

Gran Gran throws her hands in the air as though surrendering and began to hum. “Looks like Joshua and his parents are pulling in at Genny’s,” she announces.

Suddenly, I can’t swallow. Where’s my water? My throbbing heart drowns Gran Gran’s melody. Deep breath in… Let it out s-lo-w-l-y. Again.

“Honey, are you going over to greet him?”

I shake my head. “It’s been a couple of weeks since we’ve talked, which isn’t that unusual. I mean we don’t talk like every day or have a schedule or anything. Maybe once or twice a week, we’ll talk or maybe not even that.” Gran Gran’s raised eyebrow let me know that I was talking too fast and that she couldn’t keep up.

Deep breaths. Again. I glance out of the window, watching as Josh’s father takes his wife’s hand as she gets out of the car. I’m all bubbly and giddy and tingly and can’t stay still, and before I can talk myself out of it, I race out of the house and over to Mrs. Genny’s. Joshua’s parents wave and smile warmly at me.

Fidgeting with my hands, I try to peer into the dark car windows to see if Josh is still inside. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Evans. Do you need help carrying anything to the house? I know Josh is quite capable, but I can give him a hand.”

Mrs. Evans looks at her husband and gives a subtle nod. Nodding in return, he gets a few pieces of luggage from the trunk and lumbers toward the house. I wait expectantly for Josh to get out of the car. He couldn’t have gone inside already. He’s fast, but not that fast!

“Did he fall asleep on the way?” I chuckle.

Mrs. Evans' warm smile fades into one of concern as she touches my arm. “Sweetie, Josh didn’t come; he isn’t coming… Didn’t you get his letter?”

I’m trapped in a moment where it seems my brain malfunctions. I can see her. I can see her lips moving, but I can’t hear anything. Nothing except the deafening pounding of my heart. I can’t move. Not my mouth, not my feet. Nothing. I’m not sure how long I stand here before I feel her lead me to the steps and guide me in sitting down. 

Squeezing my hand gently, she looks into my eyes. “Eden, honey, are you okay?”

As though awakening from a bad dream, I shake my head a few times. “I’m – I’m okay but not okay. I don’t understand. I thought he was coming to celebrate Mrs. Genny’s Birthday.”

Mrs. Evans took a deep breath. “Yes, at least that was the plan two months ago.” Her voice wanders off. 

“I’m surprised he didn’t call or text me to let me know that he wasn’t coming.”

“Well, that, I do know something about. He and a couple of his buddies went fishing a couple of weeks ago and they finally hooked the one they had been trying to get for months – Big Boss or something like that–”

“Colosso Bosso,” I chime.

“Yes, that’s the one! It took two of them to reel it in, and in the process, Josh’s phone fell from his back pocket, never to be retrieved. He lost all of his contacts. Even ours. Can you believe that? Wouldn’t you think he’d at least know his own parents’ phone numbers? Good thing they have our numbers at the university. He tried to get information from the cell phone company, but since his phone is on our account, they said they couldn’t provide him with that information.”

I’m speechless, trying to absorb all of this but feeling so overwhelmed, it’s like my mind isn’t processing what she’s saying.

She lifts and lowers my hand to the rhythm of her narrative as she continues. “Grey and I were on a business trip out of the country at the time, so we weren’t able to help him beyond getting him set up with a new phone.”

With my free hand, I rub my temple, slowly emerging from my daze. I can’t believe he’s not here! That he’s not coming! We committed to being here, made decisions about how we wanted to spend our time, and kinda sorta acknowledged how we really felt.

Mr. Evans looks quizzically at me as he retrieves more items from the car. Mrs. Evans gives him a hopeful smile before resuming. “He doesn’t know your parents’ mailing address so he mailed a letter to Mom-Mrs. Genny-and asked her to take it to your grandmother to give it to you.”

With that glimmer of hope, I leapt from the step. “So you think my Gran Gran has this letter?”

She smiles reassuringly. “Check with her, and if she doesn’t, we’ll check with Mom to see if she forgot to give it to her.” 

“Thank you!” I wave as I run back to Gran Gran’s. Bursting through the door, I find Gran Gran folding laundry. That little sprint should not have caused me to be out of breath, but it does. “Gran Gran,” I gasp.

She looks up momentarily, sees that I’m fine and goes back to folding clothes. “How are Joshua and his parents doing, sweetie?”

“He didn’t come, but his mom said that he sent a letter for me. Do you know where it is?”

Gran Gran looks at me over her glasses. “Josh sent a letter here? For you? Now I think I’d remember that.”

On the outside, I’m calm, speaking slowly. But I really want to stomp my feet and yell like a three-year-old. Taking deep breaths help me to slow my heart rate. “He didn’t send them directly to you,” I explain. “He said that he sent them to Mrs. Genny to give to you.” 

Gran Gran bows her head as though she’s praying. “Hmmmm, Genny and I give each other coupons from time to time, but I don’t recall her giving me a letter for you.” She pauses for a moment (which seems like an eternity), then stands up. “Let me check the last envelopes she gave me. I’m sure I still have it because I haven’t had time to sort through them.”

I cross my fingers and pray. Please let her still have the coupons, the envelope. Whatever it is that contains the letter!

“Awww, here it is!” Gran Gran beams as she pulls an envelope from a kitchen drawer. She opens it and peers inside. “No, that’s not it. That’s just my receipts… Oh, wait a minute. Here it is.” She extends to me the battered stationery with its multitude of coupons sprawling from it.

I’m no match for the butterflies in my stomach and my trembling fingers. Plopping down on the floor, I dump the crumpled coupons and watch them scatter around me. The letter is sans an envelope but is neatly folded and sealed with a gold signet. I want to rip it off, but for fear of tearing any part of the letter, I gently lift it.

E-

I had hoped to talk with you about this in person, but as fate would have it, I’m not able to. The next best thing would’ve been to talk to you on the phone– to hear your voice. Or better yet, to FaceTime you so that I could see your expression. But, unfortunately, those weren’t options, either.

Remember Colosso Bosso? Well, we caught him! He was soooo massive, it took two of us to reel him in, but our endeavor was not without sacrifice: my phone, with its many numbers, photos, apps and memories disappeared into the abyss. I can hear you now: “What? You don’t have my number memorized?? I have YOUR number memorized,” and then you’d proceed to recite my number. Am I right?

I wanted to thank you again for being supportive when I got into a big fight with my parents at the beginning of the school year. You were very understanding then and I hope you’ll be just as understanding now.

I’ve thought a lot about it and I’m certain that college isn’t the right choice for me. It’s my parents' choice for me. I’ve always felt compelled to join the military. (The armed snowmen weren’t big enough clues for them? LOL!)

Unbeknownst to them, I took the ASVAB and I did well. So well that I met with my Academic Adviser, explained my plan, packed as many belongings as I would need and enlisted in the United States Marine Corps.

Covering my mouth with one hand, I attempt to muffle the wail rising from the depths of my innermost being. He’s a joker. Somewhere in the body of his letter, he’s going to give the punch line. I’m sure I’ll laugh but I’ll be mad that he tricked me. I regain my composure and continue.

I hate that I won’t be able to attend GiGi’s Birthday party. I was looking forward to doing the Running Man with her (it’s our thing) but I talked to her and she understands. In fact, she encouraged me to pursue what makes ME happy and said that my parents will come around (not so sure about that one). 

I was also looking forward to sitting with you on the swings in your Gran Gran’s backyard, trying to see who would be the first to find Orion’s Belt.

In my past two weeks of discovering what makes me, me, I realized that YOU are such an integral part of me . You’ve been with me during some of the best and worst times of my life since I was nine years old. I can’t imagine going through this next part of my journey without you… That’s why I–

I turn the page over. It’s blank! Where’s the next page? Blinking back tears, I sweep my hands through the fallen coupons trying to find the missing page. It’s got to be here! I spot the white edge of a paper peeking through a heap of colored clippings. I snatch it, shaking it feverishly to loosen the fragments. Only they don’t fall off. I try again. Nothing. The sticky backing from “World’s Best Grandma” stickers are gummed to the page!

“No! No! No!” I shriek.

Gran Gran comes running in. “What’s wrong?” she asks, placing her hand on her chest.

“Look at this! It’s the last page of his letter and I can’t get these off!: I shake the page again. “If I try to pull the stickers off, it pulls off the words, tearing the page.”

Gran Gran examines the tattered paper in my hand, trying to see if she can figure out a way to get the sticky fix it, but to no avail.

“I’m so sorry, Eden. I didn’t know there was a letter for you in there. If I had known, I would’ve been more careful. I hope you know that.”

I can’t talk. I want to tell her that although I know it’s not her fault-or Mrs. Genny’s-that I’m still angry that they were so careless. But I can’t. All I can do is wonder what Josh wanted to say to me and if he’d ever want to say it again. Weeping uncontrollably, I watch as the remnants of his words tumble to the floor.