Forbidden Literature

20| Promotion

When we finally arrived to the parking lot I quickly got my stuff loaded in my car and drove home with Sara bouncing in her seat the whole way. When she didn't have her nose buried in her phone, she was looking out the window watching the distance between her and Kenji go by.

A little while into the drive she had asked again what was wrong to several different situations that happened earlier but I told her I would tell her after we got adjusted at home. It had been so long so I've seen my bed that was my first priority, however Sara had other plans.

Pulling up to our apartment I noticed Kenji's car in the parking lot near our room. He was sitting on the stairs leading up to our place with roses and all sorts of mushy gifts that I knew for a fact was not for me.

Once Sara spotted him she turned to me and made it very clear not to come in for at least a few hours to which I gladly accepted. There was no way I was walking into one of their love fests . . . again.

After grabbing her suitcase she practically sprinted into his arms knocking him down and backwards onto the stairs. It was a cute scene, until their tongues started tangling together and clothes began coming off. Good to see my friends remain classy even in public.

I decided this was probably my cue to leave so I started driving around the block thinking of what to do when my phone rang. I looked down at the caller I.D. surprised before answering. "Hello?"

"Hey, Allison. Are you back yet?" came my mom's cheerful voice. It was very out of character for her.

It took me a second to reply as I came to a stop light. "Yeah, I actually just pulled in not too long ago. I was going to get some rest but Kenji was there and Sara sort of wanted some . . . alone time."

"Oh, that's, uh, . . . nice," she cleared her throat. Making Mom uncomfortable was never a dull moment. "Listen, I know you are tired but why don't you drop by for a few? I made us some dinner and--"

Suddenly I heard loud laughter in the background. "Excuse me, you made dinner? Helen, don't scare the poor child!"

My heart leapt in my chest. I knew that voice anywhere.

"Is that Granny?" I pressed my phone closer to my ear.

"Yes. She just came in from Chicago a couple of days ago so she is staying here until her next big trip," Mom informed. "You know how she is."

Oh how I know my Granny well. Because of her, my love for literature exists.

It all started when she would take me to the park to read Walt Whitman after a long day of play. I would pluck flowers from the ground and arrange them into bracelets as she read his poems aloud skipping over the more mature parts. When I couldn't get enough she would read me fairy tales at night before I went to bed making sure I drifted off into a sweet slumber.

After retiring from being the owner of a local library, she goes around with her book club to sight see and experience all the world has to offer. They are a crazy bunch always terrorizing the town with their over-sized sunhats and markers to correct grammar mistakes on advertisements, but when they were home, it was my favorite part of the year. Almost more than Christmas.

There was a bit of shuffling on the other end of the phone as the two bickered back and forth about the time she cooked meatloaf before Mom sighed into the phone. "Anyway, would you like to drop by?"

I made a u-turn in the middle of the road causing someone to blare their horn at me. "I'm on my way now."

It took me almost thirty minutes to get there because traffic was so bad. Once I pulled in the long driveway and parked near the front I stopped to take in the view.