Forgetting the Past

Chapter 1

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Chapter One

“Grandma, we’re here.” I announced without enthusiasm, moving smoothly out of the warm seats of my midnight blue BMW Z4. The wind whips past my cheeks, and they redden in reply. Now at the opposite position of the sleek vehicle, I grasp the black handle. A small click unlatches the door, and my grandmother erects from her seat. She’s dressed in a forest green pleated shell blouse and black slim leg pants. She slips her ancient flip phone into her green foldover clutch, and strolls with her head high through the tall and wide wooden doors.

Today was the 11th Annual Bowie Senior Home Fundraiser. My grandmother cherished the large senior home, and made it obligatory that I continue to attend every year. “Seth! Look at that chandelier!” She’d oohed.

 The air smelled strongly of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, floor polish, and a cluster of perfumes. Mrs. Dawn Evans, the founder of this senior home, was a forty something year old with dyed black hair, large bug eyes, and a big bust that felt like jello when you hugged her. She stood in front of two polka dotted trays of cookies, beaming and handing out flyers.

“Seth, I want you to meet someone. She’s the daughter of my friend Barbara. Come along and be nice,” My grandmother instructed. Like the rest of my family, she was always setting me up on blind dates. Two women in matching red scarves clink wine glasses and speak loudly about getting their period on roller coasters.

“But grandma... Can’t you just tell her I’m already in a relationship?” I whine, propping my arm onto a vacant chair.

My grandmother raised an eyebrow, and crossed her arms against her chest. “Seth, you are a twenty five year old grown man. I want great grand babies.” She grips my arm.

“But what about Maisey and Andy? They’re getting along great if you know what I mean.” Just give Maisey some faulty birth control and BAM! Baby central. Andy, Maisey’s long time boyfriend was a good guy, and we’d already had the don’t-hurt, -put-anything-in -the-oven -or-I-will-kill -you-talk, so I couldn’t just take it back and say “hey my grandma wants great grand kids so if you could do that for me it would be great?”

“Seth, do not speak of your little sister like that! You should be happy she found someone as nice as Andy!” She chided. “Now, follow me. You might even like the girl,” My grandmother asserted, her heels click clacking against the polished marble flooring. A boy around seven-ish tried tossing paper airplanes into the chandelier, failed, and was scolded by a gruff old man with a Monopoly Man mustache.

  Grandma let go of my hand, putting on a happy expression for a woman swaying to depressing music and picking at a gray ribbed cowl neck dress. She lifts her head, greeting us with friendly green eyes and a warm smile. “PEG! Long time no see, how are you?” Barbara locks her in a lengthy embrace, patting her back and brushing my grandmother’s gray streaked hair. This one’s a bit touchy feely. Now that’s the type of person that needs to be set up on blind dates. “This is my daughter Brittany,” Then she pauses and whispers to my grandmother, “But we all call her Bratty for short.” The woman chuckles. "A real bitch, if you ask me."