Late Night Conversations

"I don't know if what you're feeling for Miranda is love or not," Gramsy offered as her smile slipped away and she met my eyes again. "But grandson...David, if it is, then don't you dare miss out on it! You have no idea how rare it is or how long you'll have with someone before they're gone."

I nodded because there was nothing to say. Her point was so obviously valid and important that any words I tried to offer would be meaningless. The only real question was whether I did love Miranda. My gut told me one thing. The problem was that my mind insisted on the other.

"Stir the sauce," Gramsy demanded in that way that was so her when she saw I was lost in thought. "I'll be right back."

It took her longer to return than I expected and she was carrying a well-aged, medium sized carboard box when she did. My grandmother led me to the living room and sat on the couch instead of in the armchair she usually chose. It was obvious that she wanted me to sit next to her so I did. Gramsy opened the box with surprising care.

I looked inside as soon as I could see. There were dozens, maybe hundreds of loose pictures, many of them black and white. Apparently, my grandmother didn't believe in picture albums. Gramsy took out one picture, stared at it briefly before handing it to me.

"This is the last picture I have of your uncle David before he shipped out to Vietnam." There was pain behind her words, but also a deep sense of love. "You remind me of him some times." I was so busy staring at the picture and absorbing everything about my uncle that I didn't notice when Gramsy pulled out the next picture.

"And this is your grandfather," she said with surprising poise considering the emotions that I could sense boiling beneath the surface. "Not long after we first met." She handed me the picture with some reluctance, as if doing so somehow hurt. I handled it with extreme care. It obviously meant a lot to Gramsy.

"He was handsome." The picture was of a guy a few years younger than me, leaning on a car with a cigarette in his mouth and looking 1950s cool.

"And as vain as a peacock about it," Gramsy grinned, clearly remembering. "He spent more time getting that pompadour just right than I did with my hair, and back then we girls used curlers!" She started actually laughing, so I joined her.

I sat quietly for the next hour or so enjoying the pictures and the memories they invoked in my grandmother as we waited for the bread to rise. I'd always known Gramsy was a special woman who lived life to the best of her ability no matter what came her way. What I hadn't realized was how much she enjoyed it despite the difficulties she faced.

"Your grandfather took this picture." It was of a much younger Gramsy in a bathing suit with a happy smile. "He used to call me his 'beautiful Italian princess'." She shook her head and laughed again before adding, "I was neither beautiful nor a princess, but when I was with him, I could believe I was both, at least for a time." She moved on to the next picture with a shake of her head.

I knew that I would never forget what she shared with me, no matter how many years passed. Gramsy was kind enough to give me glimpses of her past, and frankly, there were times I found myself almost jealous. I could only hope I lived half as well as she had despite all the tragedies she'd faced.

"It's time we get the bread on and finish making dinner." And just like that, our time digging into Gramsy's past was over.

My grandmother was putting the last of the pictures back in the box when I reached out and stopped her. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Gramsy." I wanted to say more, but the words wouldn't come.

"You're welcome, grandson," she smiled slowly, patting my hand. "And thank you for listening to an old woman's musings. I haven't gone through this box in a long time and it was overdue. It was talking to you about Miranda and love at first sight, and the memories of your grandfather that it brought up that gave me the gumption to pull the box out."

"I'd like to do this again someday, if that's alright with you?" I asked as Gramsy closed the box and stood. "There are still plenty of pictures we didn't look at yet." She smiled at me, letting her ever present guard down for a moment.

"I'd like that too David, but not any time soon." The use of my first name and the fact that I could suddenly see how drained Gramsy was from visiting her past, made me realize how hard it was for her. She left the room before I could recover.

I went into the kitchen and peaked at the bread dough under the still damp towel. It had risen significantly and just seeing it made me hungry. I also took a moment to stir the sauce. It smelled so incredible by this point that my mouth literally watered. I couldn't resist tasting it. Of course, Gramsy walked in a soon as I brought the spoon to my lips.

"What did I tell you about tasting the sauce before it's ready?" She sounded the same as usual. Any signed of the emotions she felt while we were looking at her pictures was gone, but I'd never forget the memory of them or how they showed me what a real life, well lived looked like.

"Oh, it's ready!" I insisted, making Gramsy shake her head, but I could see her fighting a smile.

"You need to punch down that dough before we split it into two," her non-nonsense tone was back, but now I knew better. "We'll make one loaf for us and the other for the Ramos kids."

"Make theirs a little bigger. Mr. Ramos's car has been out front all day. I'm glad he decided to take a day off."

The momentary look of concern on Gramsy's face disappeared as quickly as it came, but I'd noticed it enough to replay my own words in my head. "You don't think..." I couldn't finish my sentence, but she understood.

"I'm sure he's fine," Gramsy replied, answering my unasked question. "But make sure everything is okay when you drop off dinner, just in case. That girl already has too much on her shoulders as it is."

"Maybe that's why Anthony visited? Maybe Miranda called him because..."

"Doubtful," Gramsy interjected in a tone that let me know that she thought as little of Anthony as Renzo did. My grandmother wasn't one to gossip or badmouth someone, but she wasn't very good at hiding her feelings toward them either. "He's not the type. If he were, he'd have stayed longer."

"You're probably right," I agreed, but deep down I wasn't so sure. Miranda might have called Anthony, but if her father did have the virus, then she wouldn't let him stay and chance getting it. In either case, that didn't matter for the moment. What did was that I was worried about Mr. Ramos and what Miranda might be facing, but there was nothing I could do until I knew what was going on for sure.

Getting the bread on was simple enough and the sauce was all but done, but as it turned out, the hard part of pasta making was still left. Gramsy had me roll the dough out with a rolling pin. She cut it into strips and then showed me how to roll them into small tubes about a foot long.

I thought I was doing pretty good up until then. That's when Gramsy took a fork and pressed it against one end of a tube. She started flicking her wrist in a way that caused a piece of pasta to form. I tried to duplicate her action, but never quite got the hang of it. Gramsy went like five times faster than me and made beautiful looking pasta. Me, not so much.

I expect she would have gone slower and spent more time showing me how to do it if she wasn't concerned about the Ramos family as much as I was. I wasn't complaining. The faster we had dinner ready the faster I could drop it off at their house and make sure everything was okay.

We usually ate dinner and then I would drop off what Gramsy made for the Ramos family. Tonight, she handed me the food to deliver first. I took a moment to grab a piece of paper, jot down my phone number and put it in my pocket while she was boxing the meal up. I would give it to whoever answered the door this way they could reach me if they needed me.

"And don't dillydally if everything is okay." I nodded and kissed her on the forehead before I made my way over. Gramsy was obviously worried too.

It was raining hard again and the wind was brutal at the moment. It would have been smarter to wait a few minutes because that kind of intensity couldn't last, but I threw on a rain coat, grabbed an oversized umbrella from the hall closet and ran for it.

It became immediately obvious that the umbrella was a mistake. It did nothing with the kind of wind I was facing except get in the way. In the end, I got frustrated and released the lock with one hand before dropping it on the grass. Thankfully, Gramsy put dinner in a box that protected it from the worst of the weather.

I arrived at the Ramos's front porch, pretty much soaked through. I had stepped in at least one puddle on the way over. I would have to stuff my shoes when I got back if I wanted them to dry out any time soon.

I rang the doorbell and waited impatiently. Thankfully, it wasn't very long. The tension started leaving my shoulders the moment Miranda open the door. We will have the storm door between us, but I could see her through the glass. She was clearly in a good mood, or at least she was until she saw me.

"What's wrong?" she asked with real concern.

"I guess nothing," I replied with a shrug that quickly drifted into a slow smile despite the stormy weather. "I noticed that your father's car was out front all day and I was worried he might not be feeling well." That was as close as I could come to saying I was afraid he had the virus. Miranda was no dummy. She knew what I meant immediately.

"No, he's fine, but thanks for making sure." We were talking through the glass door. I knew it was hard for Miranda not to offer to let me in out of the rain. I could see it in her expression. "He and momma had a long talk last night. They decided that he would cut back his volunteering with the rescue squad."

Miranda didn't explain why, but I could guess. It really was dangerous for both of her parents to be exposed. It would be hard enough for the family to deal with the loss of one parent. Two would destroy them. Thankfully, both were clear of the virus right now, but you never knew.

"And momma is going to start sleeping at her friend Pamela's apartment. She's a nurse too and lives closer to the hospital. She's single and has an extra bedroom." Again, no mention of how it would be safer for her and her sibling, but I could see the knowledge in eyes.

"That sucks," I said bluntly because it was the truth and nothing I could say would make that better. That didn't mean I wouldn't try. "It's probably unnecessary, but smart, just like your mother." She smiled in appreciation at my attempt, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"We're still going to see her every few days, but we'll do it outside and keep our distance. It's going to be hardest on Matteo."

"Please, all you Ramos kids love to hug and kiss!" I was teasing, trying to lighten the mood. It wasn't until she raised an eyebrow that I replayed what I'd said in my head. It didn't take much to see how she interpreted it. I have no idea why it made me blush so much, but it did. "That's not what I meant!" Of course, her reaction was to start laughing.

"Here's your dinner," I sighed, shaking my head and leaning forward to place the box with the food down. "I'll leave it here on the porch for you."

"It's getting drenched. Just hand it to me," she demanded, opening the storm door. She was done laughing, but her eyes still sparkled with humor. "And make sure to wash your hands when you get back inside."

"You're the one taking the box from me. Make sure you wash your hands." Miranda didn't bother commenting as she took the box from me and moved back behind the safety of the storm door.

"Thank your grandmother for us." She didn't immediately turn away. "I guess with this weather, we won't be able to meet tonight."

"If the trip over here in this downpour taught me anything, it's that I am not a dolphin." I really was soaked through to the bone. "Meeting outside is definitely off. " That's when I remembered about my phone number.

"Wait! Take this," I reached under my coat and into my pocket, grabbing the piece of paper I's put there. Somehow, it was still mostly dry. I opened the storm door and dropped it on top of the box she was holding before quickly closing the door once more. "I meant to give this to you so that you could call me if you ever needed me." She looked at me oddly.

"You were really worried about my father," Miranda said slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.

"And you," I replied, refusing to look away, at least not until I remembered Anthony's visit earlier in the day. I broke eye contact after that and added, "And your brothers and sister."

I wanted to ask about her boyfriend's visit, but it was none of my business. Part of me wanted to tease her about it, but I wasn't finding it all that funny at the moment. The jealousy I felt at seeing her and Antony together was still raw. My time with Gramsy and her box full of pictures and memories hadn't changed the way I felt about Miranda, but it let me see things in a new, clearer light. I just wasn't sure how to deal with it yet, or if I even should.

"Any of you can call me if you ever need me," I said a little awkwardly into the silence that followed. "Or you know, if you want to talk."

"I'll let them know." You ever get the feeling that someone was laughing at you, but not in a bad way? That was exactly how I felt, but I didn't blame her. I was acting like a twelve-year-old. I blamed Gramsy and her talk about love at first sight.

Miranda continued to watch me with her laughing eyes for a few more moments before nodding once, more to herself than me. She shut the door without another word. I wasn't quite sure what the nod meant. I tried not to dwell on it as I slogged back in the downpour. Tried, and failed.

**********

Gramsy made me take a shower and get dressed in some warm, dry clothes before we ate dinner. She was as relieved as I was that Miranda's father was okay, but of course, she didn't show it. That just wasn't Gramsy.

Dinner was amazing once we finally got to it. I was starved and her pasta was definitely one of my favorites, but I have to admit, part of my enjoyment was knowing I'd helped prepare it. Certainly, the fact that I was in a good mood after talking to Miranda helped.

Gramsy turned in earlier than usual with the rain still falling. It had slowed down considerable and was downright sedate by the time I made my way to bed. I was reading online when my phone rang. I was a little disappointed to see it was one of my friends from college. I mean, I was happy to hear from him, but I was hoping for someone else.

Brett lived in one of those southern states not hit hard by the virus, or at least not yet. He'd gone home like the rest of us when our school closed. Listening to him talk for the next twenty minutes was a bit of an eye opener. There were still less than five hundred virus related death in his entire state, where as my state and most of the ones around me were in the thousands.

I could understand why the people in areas like Don's thought of the virus as a bit of a farce and an inconvenience. It wasn't as real to them as it was to people in my state. Everyone here knew people who'd gotten it, and most of us knew at least one who'd died from it. In my case, it was a former high school friend's father, but there were plenty of others.

No wonder why people were reacting so differently online. A lot depended where you lived and what you did for a living. My dad and mom were lucky because they could work from home. My sister Lisa and her fiancé were both out of work for the time being.

Dad and mom would make sure they were okay financially, but there were plenty of people out there who either didn't have family, or their families were in the same boat as them. Times were scary for a lot of people.

Our call was just winding down when my phone rang again. This time is was a number I didn't recognize with a local area code. I rushed Brett off the phone with promise to give him a call back in a couple of weeks. I answer the local call just before the call was pushed to leave a message.

"Hello," I said, hoping it was Miranda.

"Hi, is this Davey?" The voice was far younger than Miranda's, but it was definitely recognizable.

"Hello Sophie, how are you doing?" I was having a hard time not laughing. I'd told Miranda that any of her or her siblings could call me if they wanted, and apparently, she'd taken my words literally and given my number to her little sister.

"Good. I'm going to bed soon, but I wanted to call and thank you and your grandmother for dinner. Pasta is my favorite!"

"Mine too," I replied with a grin. "Maybe Gramsy and I will show you how to make it one day."

"Really?" the excitement in Sophie's voice was priceless.

It turned out little Sophie was quite the conversationalist. We talked for ten minutes before her father finally called her away from the phone. Sophie wished me a good night and hung up. I was still grinning when my cell phone rang a third time.

"Hello."

"Hello, Davey." This time it was Miranda and I settled back into bed and got comfortable. "Did you have fun talking to Sophie?"

"Oh, it's you." I ignored her question because I knew Mira was only asking it to tease me. "I was expecting Renzo, or even little Matteo."

"Renzo is online playing video games with his friends. Matteo's been asleep for hours."

"Oh well, then I guess you'll have to do." Maybe I shouldn't have made that joke, or maybe when I did, I should have expected the hang up, but I hadn't. It struck me as funny and I burst out laughing before I called her back, only I used facetime.

Miranda picked up after the first ring. She wasn't laughing so I quickly stopped. There was something odd about her expression that I couldn't place. "Weird. Somehow we were disconnected." I did my best to keep a straight face.

"Yeah, somehow." She was giving me that pointedly look once more, but I could see how relaxed she was despite not seeming particularly amused. Still, I decided to play it safe.

"Bad joke, sorry." We spent so much time teasing each other that one of the other of us was bound to go too far eventually. Of course, it would have to be me. I wasn't quite sure why that particular joke upset her, but clearly it did. I figured my best bet was to change the subject. "How was your day?"

I held my breath and waited to see if she would forgive me. I didn't think she was really mad, but I might have been wrong. There was still something a little off about her.

"Good," Miranda replied almost reluctantly, lifting a glass into the picture. She brought it to her lips and sipped. That's when I figured out what was up with her. Miranda was either drunk or on her way because she was drinking red wine. Well, either that or grape juice, and I couldn't picture the latter in that type of glass. "Papa's being home all day helped."

"And I'm betting the wine isn't hurting either." I couldn't resist.

"This is only my second glass." Miranda was clearly not a big drinker if a glass and a half of wine already had her tipsy, or maybe I just hadn't seen her truly relaxed until now. "Poppa said I could sleep in tomorrow so I thought, 'Why not?' It's the first time since all the pandemic hit."

"Sounds reasonable." I decided to tread a little more carefully while I figured out Mira's inebriation level. If she was drunk, then I was more than a little curious as to what kind of a drunk she was. I didn't want her hanging up on me again. Besides, this could be fun. "What else did you do today?"

I got out of bed as I asked and made my way to my bag. I'd taken out my clothes when I arrived, but left some stuff there. One of the things was a small bottle of tequila, and not the cheap stuff. I'd brought it in case I got stir crazy.