"If you want to try again, I've learned a few things since then and now I'm sure... I would make it so, so good for you..." Luke pulls back, a troublemakers grin on his lips. "You wouldn't be able to forget it."
...
So I do as I'm told. She takes my hand in hers and taps two arthritic fingers against my skin.
"I think maybe you're right." She says finally. Something I never thought I'd hear. "We're all so worried about you that we can't help ourselves. We just want to see you feel better. We get so carried away with that, that we lose sight of everything else, including how we make you feel, as backwards as that sounds."
"That does sound backwards," I mumble, staring at the thin, wrinkled skin of her hands. "But Grams, what if it doesn't get better? What if this is all there is for me, now?"
"Is that what you believe, Dylan?" Grams tilts her head at me, her eyes piercing me through her glasses.
"I don't know," I admit lamely. "It's just hurt for so long... it's hard to imagine anything else. Maybe this is me now, you know? Maybe I'm stuck."
"I don't know that, dear." Grams says, smiling despite the dark turn our conversation has taken. "What I do know is that you're different from when you got here a few weeks ago. Now I don't know what's making the difference, but I do know that as time goes by... You're becoming less and less stuck. Don't you think?"
I consider her words carefully, knowing deep down that I've talked more about Casey out loud in the last few weeks than during the years I spent before coming back. I've visited his favorite spots, I went into his room. Smelled the scent of his cologne, which faded fast from the sweatshirt I kept after his funeral.
I flipped through a scrapbook filled with his smile and didn't feel like I was completely dying inside.
Maybe that's what Grams is noticing. Maybe she's right, after all.
"Hey Grams?" I wonder out loud, "I need your opinion. Luke invited me to his family's cookout this weekend."
Grams eyes light up and I'm almost positive I know what she'll say. But she surprises me again.
"I thought you didn't like Luke, after everything with Maya."
My eyes narrow. "And the accident," I remind her.
"Right." She nods, averting her gaze. "And the accident, too."
I almost press her on it, about why she's so quick to forget about it, but I don't. Instead, I sigh.
One thing at a time.
"Things with Maya were a misunderstanding." I explain, standing to resume my work on dinner, finding the cast-iron skillet that crisps the edges of pancakes just right in the cupboard. "Everything else... I don't know. Do you... Do you think Casey would be mad at me?"
"Oh, please." Grams scoffs, surprising even herself, I think. She continues quickly. "Dylan, if there's two people that boy loved most in the world, it was you and Luke. I don't think he'd hold it against you for looking to one another after all you've been through. I don't think that one bit."
"Hm." Is all I can say, watching the thick batter drip into the pan, the sizzling cracks the only other sound in the room. "Maybe you're right."
Maybe she is. Maybe she's not. I can feel myself hoping that she is, though.
Either way, the only person who can tell us for sure isn't here.
So it's up to me to decide on my own.
I plop some chocolate chips into the batter, watching them melt as the heat of the skillet cooks the pancakes through.
"Hey Grams," I break the silence after a few moments of careful thought, "After dinner, do you mind if I head out for a little bit?"
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Alright you guys, the next chapter will be up soon! This one was originally supposed to have more to it, but it got too long, so I had to split it into two. Hope ya don't mind! What do we think - what did Dylan decide? Where's she going now? Love and miss you all!
