Late Night Conversations

"There were things about Anthony I didn't enjoy like his insistence in calling me Mandy, but I ignored them. I was a second semester senior and part of the in-crowd. If I didn't see what it was like then, then when?"

Again, I bit my lip. I had to force myself to remember how hard high school could be when you were still trying to figure out who you were. College started out the same way, but ended up being more about trying to understand who you wanted to be. They were similar in some ways, but completely different in others.

"The second semester started out perfectly," Maranda continued. "Our high school basketball team was a contender for states, and suddenly I was going to all the parties. It turned out that there really wasn't that much of a difference between the popular kids and the rest of us as I expected. Okay sure, some of them were full of themselves, but mostly they were all too busy celebrating the end of high school to mind me suddenly being part of their group."

"Life was good. I already had a date for the prom and everyone was talking about graduation and what they were doing before going off to college in the fall. I had an open invitation to one of my new friend's parent's beach house for the summer and was looking forward to spending some time enjoying the sun and surf."

"And then the virus hit." The words slipped out. I could feel her pain because it matched my own in some ways. I didn't have plans for the summer like Miranda because I was supposed to start my new job in June, but I was looking forward to all the graduation parties and hanging out with some old friends in May before I started working.

"And then the pandemic hit," Miranda agreed. "Almost overnight, Papa and mama all but disappeared and I went from being carefree to being locked in my house taking care of my younger siblings. I loved them dearly, but sometimes it's hard."

"And you worry about your parents," I interjected knowingly.

"All the time!" The words came out with a burst of emotion. I could almost hear the tears that followed. "Mama stopped telling me stories about what was happening in the hospital because I was having nightmares. So much pain and death, and still, she insists on putting in extra shifts and risking herself! Papa is almost as bad with the rescue squad."

I wanted to offer what comfort I could, but there were no words that came to mind and Miranda was on the other side of the fence. Only, when I glanced behind me for the first time in a while, I saw that somewhere during our conversation, Mira had moved her chair closer to the fence as well. She was leaning back and her fingers were intermeshed with the fence.

I was unable to resist doing the same and taking hold of her hand as best I could. Miranda froze at first, but then squeezed with surprising strength. It felt so good to touch another human being and offer comfort, especially Miranda. We sat like that for a few minutes as she cried quietly.

"I haven't seen your mother yet, but I'm sure she's being careful." I offered when she finally seemed in control of herself once more.

"Mama is always careful and she says she's fine, but I don't believe her. She looks exhausted and has sores on her face from wearing a mask so much. Her eyes are haunted. I don't want to think about what she's been dealing with on a daily basis."

"Your mother is a special lady," I offered, thinking about the warm and kind woman I remembered. "Always was."

"She likes you too," Miranda said, sounding more like herself. "She told me to say hello."

"Tell her the same from me. I'm sure I'll bump into her sooner or later."

We fell silent for a while again, but this time it was more relaxed and companionable. I could tell Miranda was done sharing for now. I think we both needed a break from the strong emotions. Well, that and it was obvious that we were both drawing a lot of comfort from holding hands, even such as we were with the fence in the way.

Miranda was the first to let go and stand up. I didn't blame her. It was getting late and we both needed to get some sleep before the morning came and her siblings started driving her crazy while Gramsy put me to work.

"By the way, I will never forgive you if you touch your face, or anything else, before you go inside and wash your hands, with soap!"

"Yes, mom!" I retorted as I stood as well. I also turned and met Miranda's eyes for the first time since we sat down. They were glassy, but she looked better. There was gratitude there and something else that I couldn't quite figure out. "Make sure you use your other hand to wipe the tears from your eyes until you do the same."

"I am not crying," Miranda insisted, and she wasn't, but she had been. That much was obvious.

"If you say so, Mandy." I couldn't resist. Instead of getting mad, she actually laughed.

"You know, I might be younger than you, but you are definitely more immature."

"At times," I admitted with a laugh of my own. "Same time tomorrow or do you need a night off?"

"I'll be out here." Miranda glanced up at the stars once more. I admit, I enjoyed watching her do it far more than I should have. "It's the only time I get to myself. Plus, talking to you helps. It helps a lot."

"Same here," I offered, and it was the truth. I'd been looking forward to meeting up with Mira all day. Conversations with her were never boring.

"And Davey," Miranda began slowly, drawing my eyes to hers. "Thanks for listening."

"Any time." A thought popped into my head and I smiled before adding, "And apparently, we can have a conversation without fighting. Well, as long as we're not looking at each other."

"It's a start," Miranda smiled as well. There was something warm and comforting about the way she did it. "But you were wrong before. We don't fight because we're trying to force a friendship, or because we are friends, or even because we both need a friend right about now."

"Then why do we fight so much?" I was more than a little curious about what she thought it was, but when she offered it, I was completely stunned.

"It's obvious," Miranda explained, walking away and putting Gramsy's chair near the sliding door. She opened the glass door and paused before walking in. Mira looked and me and added, "It's because we're both attracted to each other and don't know how to deal with it."

Miranda stood there for another few moments, giving me a chance to deny it. I couldn't. Sure, part of her was still the fourteen-year-old tomboy I remembered, but she'd grown well past that into a young woman who I couldn't deny interested me. Just like I'd grown past the eighteen-year-old boy who didn't have a care in the world except getting through college.

"That sounds right," I finally said, knowing it was the truth. The intensity of our look grew to something I couldn't ignore, so me being me, I did what I do best. "Have a good night, Mandy."

Again, instead of being mad, Miranda laughed. That didn't stop her from promising, "If you call me that again, you will regret it." She disappeared into the house right afterward and I stood there grinning like an idiot, staring after her.

**********

The next few days passed much the same as the others since I arrived. Gramsy would keep me busy during the day with chores. We would make dinner together in the early evening. I would deliver it to the Ramos's front porch and have a brief conversation with whoever came out to get it. And each night, Miranda and I would meet in the yards and just talk.

I was worried at first that us both admitting we were attracted to each other would be a problem, but it didn't come up again. I think in no small part, because she had a boyfriend. There was also the fact that at times it was still hard for me to see her as anything other than the cute fourteen-year-old I remembered, but honestly, that was happening less and less often the more we talked.

She was still only eighteen years old, but the more I got to know her, the less the four years between us seemed to matter. Well, sometimes anyway. At others it bothered me a lot, but it wasn't the four years so much as the fact that Miranda was still in high school and I was about to graduate college. We were at such different points in our lives.

I also think our attraction for each other didn't come up again because we were both afraid that if we talked about it that it might ruin our time together. I'm not sure if recognizing it and stating it out loud was good or bad, but in the end, I think it did help us understand our interaction with each other better.

That's not to say we still didn't fight. We did, but mostly because we both enjoyed it too much to stop altogether. Sure, our attraction to each other was part of it, but there were other aspects as well. We both liked to be challenged. Miranda was smart and not afraid to voice her opinions. Her perspectives were so different than mine sometimes that they took me completely by surprise, but never in a bad way.

About a week after I arrived at Gramsy's I woke up to the sound of rain. It poured, on and off for hours and occasionally the wind would pick up, only making it worse. Gramsy let me focus on a school project for the entire morning while she puttered around the house. I was just finishing up when she announced it was time for another of my cooking lessons.

I thought it was a little early to start dinner, but then she told me she was going to teach me to make pasta, from scratch. That was fine by me. I could use the distraction, which may have been why my grandmother chose that particular meal.

Gramsy didn't have a pasta maker because she didn't believe in them. That meant I had to do the bulk of the kneading. I had fun despite how messy it got. I was pretty sure that was my own fault based on my grandmother's expression. In the end, we had a blob of dough wrapped in plastic wrap sitting on the counter.

I knew there was more to making pasta than that, but Gramsy moved on to showing me how to make one of her sauces. It wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be, but it had to sit on the stove cooking for hours before it was ready.

"If you're up for kneading a little more dough, we can make some fresh bread to go along with it. There should be just enough time."

"Definitely!" The only thing that could make my grandmother's pasta better was one of her loaves of fresh bread. Gramsy went to the pantry to get the dry ingredients. I went to the refrigerator to grab the eggs, figuring I'd help. Big mistake.

"There are no eggs in my bread," she said in that tone of hers. I turned around and hid my grin as I put the eggs back. I assumed there were eggs in bread dough since there were a bunch in the pasta. Live and learn.

Gramsy started with a large bowl, some warm water, sugar and yeast. Apparently, I needed to be a chemist to make bread, or at least that's what it felt like at the start. Making the pasta was more fun.

You made a volcano of flour and dumped a bunch of eggs in the middle. After that, it was a lot like mixing cement, only do yourself a favor and don't make that analogy to your grandmother if she ever shows you how to make fresh pasta. Comparing her cooking to cement mixing will not go over well. Trust me.

In the end, making pasta and bread was very similar, at least my part in it. They both entailed a lot of kneading of dough. I was staring out the window while I worked, letting my mind wander. The kitchen faced the front of the house, but there wasn't much to see today other than the rain. Cars seldom passed these days with everyone sheltering in place.

Still, it was oddly relaxing, or at least it started that way. That all changed when I saw a familiar car pull up. It was Anthony. This time he got out and ran to the front door.

I knew Miranda's father was home because his car was parked out front, but oddly, it didn't make me feel that much better. I had a sudden urge to go out there and stop Anthony, but I didn't have the right so I squashed it down, hard. He was Miranda's boyfriend, not me.

I was surprised by the sudden surge of frustration and out and out jealousy that hit me. I guess just because Miranda and I didn't talk about our attraction to each other, that meant it was gone. In fact, I hadn't realized quite how much it had grown from my side until that moment.

I knew I needed to get passed these feelings welling up in me. They weren't appropriate or good for me in the long run. Sure, Mira was the one who recognize our attraction for what it was and even admitted it was mutual, but what did that change?

She was still in high school and dating Anthony while I was graduating college in a month or so. She was eighteen now and no longer a kid, but I was already twenty-two and had a job waiting for me after I graduated.

Well, at least I hoped I did. I'd checked with the company once all this happened and they told me not to worry. I still had a job assuming the government eventually allowed people to go back to their offices, but it still worried me. Only time would tell. There was nothing I could do about my job now anyway. Thinking about it wasn't going to help anything.

Of course, worrying about my employment situation was easier than dealing with these sudden feelings for Miranda. Actually, calling them feelings wasn't really fair. I couldn't have feelings for her in that way, could I?

I mean we were friends of a sort and our nightly conversations made me feel closer to her than I probably should have been. And God knows, I was attracted to her curves, her lips...even her eyes. Hell, to just about everything about Miranda, if I were being honest, but in the long run did that really matter?

Maybe I was right after all. Maybe all this was, was two people in desperate need of a friend? Add to that our mutual attraction and it made sense how I might think there was more to us than there was.

I was lost in thought when Anthony returned from Miranda's house. She followed him out despite the rain. My eyes locked on to them of their own accord.

"Grandson, close your mouth." The fact that my grandmother caught me staring at Miranda through the window was bad enough, but Gramsy, being Gramsy, didn't leave it at that. "You've got it bad."

I wasn't surprised by what she said, just embarrassed. What did surprise me was what she added once I forced my eyes away from the window and looked at her. "David, just so you know, you could do a lot worse than Miranda."

My grandmother seldom used my first name. I was always 'grandson' to her. Mostly, because I was her only grandson and it had become a term of endearment, but also because she saved the use of my proper name for when she was saying something that she thought was important for me to understand.

I had no idea how to react to it now, so I did what I typically did with my grandmother when it was a serious subject. I told her the truth, although I didn't really understand it until I said it out loud to her.

"Gramsy, you aren't wrong. I am attracted to Miranda, but following up on it doesn't make any sense. She's barely eighteen and probably on her way to college next year. I'm graduating and going out into the so-called world."

I fell silent for a few seconds because my mind was racing too much to form words. I glanced out the window and saw Miranda hug Anthony before slipping from his grasp and making her way back to the house.

"There's no way it would work out between us, even if I was interested in following up because this is little Miranda Ramos we're talking about. I don't want to do anything to hurt her or her family. They're 'good people' and were always kind to me." I shook my head as I spoke. Gramsy remained silent letting me think as she greased the pan we were going to use for the bread.

"Mr. Ramos treated me like another son that summer I came and stayed with you. It would feel like a betrayal to take advantage of his daughter. And, I'm sure Mrs. Ramos would love finding out someone four years older than her daughter and the grandson of their next store neighbor was into her daughter."

"I think you'd be surprised by Miranda's mother's reaction," Gramsy offered as she took the dough from me and put it in the pan. She covered it with a damp cloth and put it on the counter. "That needs to rise." She only paused a moment before adding, "You know Mercedes and your sister became close that summer, and it was obvious that 'little Miranda' as you called her, had a big crush on you."

"She did?" I asked in surprise.

"Men," Gramsy said without heat, pointing toward the sink. I went there and started washing up. "Of course, she did. Miranda was a fourteen-year-old girl and you were a handsome and kind eighteen-year-old boy who gave her attention."

My grandmother waited for me to finish washing up. She handed me a dish towel to dry my hands. "No one thought anything would come of it because of the age difference and the fact that you were obviously oblivious, but it's not like Miranda's mother thought badly of the idea, once you both grew up of course. You are my grandson, after all."

"There is that," I smiled, which was why I was surprised when Gramsy took that moment to pinch my elbow. I don't know how she did it, but when my grandmother was mad at me, she had a way of grabbing just the right amount of skin to make it hurt. I pulled away from her as fast as I could. "Ouch! What was that for?!"

"Because if you dare try and take advantage of Miranda, then her father won't be the only one feeling betrayed. I raised you better than that! So did your parents." I had to replay what I said earlier to understand what she meant. It had been a poor choice of words.

"Gramsy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. It just that Mr. Ramos likes me and dating his daughter might ruin that." She stared at me as if trying to read my thoughts. If anyone could do it, it would be her.

"There's something about Miranda that's got you all hot and bothered whether you accept it or not," she finally said. "And it's more than just her looks."

"I don't know her well enough for that to be true," I argued as I put the dish towel back in its place. Gramsy was very particular about her kitchen. "Unless you're trying to tell me that it was love at first sight? Well, first sight since she became an adult." I didn't bother keeping the sarcasm from my tone.

"First of all," Gramsy began slowly. "Don't think I'm oblivious to the fact that you two have spent every night out back talking since you arrived." Being caught out by my grandmother was somewhat embarrassing, but all of that was quickly forgotten when she added, "And yes, I do believe in love at first sight."

I recognized the rare smile that blossomed on my grandmother's face. It was the one she offered when thinking about the love of her life. "I know it sounds crazy. I would never have believed it myself before I met your grandfather."

"It was like that for you?" I asked, holding my breath because I was afraid my interruption would stop her from continuing. Gramsy hardly ever talked about my grandfather.

"For both of us." Her smile somehow made her look momentarily younger. "It was all our parents could do to make us wait a year to get married. We were poor and always scrambling to survive, but that didn't matter as long as we had each other." Her smile softened and turned slightly sadder. "We were together for only ten years and fought constantly about one thing or another, but they were still the best ten years of my life."

I'd never seen my grandmother like this before. There was no doubt that she was a good woman, but most people thought of her as hard and strong. That was how she faced what life had thrown at her, but right now I was seeing a different side of her. I was seeing a woman who had loved a lifetime in the decade she shared with my grandfather.