Love And Other Things I'm Bad At Part 24

but it only makes me miss him more.

Tears dropped onto cheese curds. Had to throw them out; got kind of gross.

Bryan ate all the summer sausage.

"How could Wittenauer not remember I'm a vegetarian?"

"I was wondering about that, too," said Bryan.

"It's because I'm supposed to share this stuff," I said. "I guess."

"So give me the chocolate cow," he said.

"No way!"

We started fighting over it, tackling each other, and the melted cow slipped out of my hands like a wet football.

Living at home is turning me back into a toddler. Must move out soon.

9/7.

This is what I don't like about being home. Instead of being at Cornwall Falls Fall Blast party, outside on big gra.s.sy hill, I had to attend awkward Labor Day picnic at Mom's man-friend Sterling's house. With Sterling's extended family.

Talk about labor. Making conversation was impossible. Gave up and started texting friends. Then Mom yelled at me for being antisocial.

So Bryan and I played badminton with some elderly aunts and bratty nephews. I found myself struggling for the racket with a nine-year-old, fighting to the death, yelling, "Give it! GIVE IT!"

Well, better than knocking the eighty-year-olds to the ground, I guess.

I've got to find another place soon-and something positive to actually DO with my energy.

9/8.

Cla.s.ses have started everywhere. In a related development, Courtney V. D. Smith is falling further and further behind. And eating lots of Wisconsin brick cheese.

Well, the few sc.r.a.ps that Bryan didn't eat before heading off to school this morning. How can it be that I envy my little brother for going to Bugling Elk? I couldn't wait to get out of there. Now I'd like to just have someplace, anyplace, to go.

Enough slinking around. If I end up going to Colorado State, then I have to talk to Grant sooner or later. Besides . . . I could really use a friend right now. Mr. Novotny across the street doesn't count.

For some reason while Grant and I were dating, I got to know Grant's grandmother (Grandmother Superior, who I occasionally call Grantmother) better than his parents, even though they all live in the same house. I can't really explain why. Maybe because my grandparents, who I really do love, really drive me crazy most of the time? And she's just so refreshing. And because Grant was always such a good grandson, doing errands for her, etc.

Or, maybe it was because his parents never liked me much. Actually, I could never tell how they felt. But I'm guessing after the way I kind of vanished from his life they probably aren't Courtney Smith fans right now.

I figured they'd be at work during the day, while Grantmother might be home, and gave it a shot. Thankfully, she answered.

"Mrs. Superior? I'm so sorry to bother you, but . . ."

"Courtney. I'd know that voice anywhere."

"You would?"

"Well, that and we have caller ID and I don't know anyone else with the last name 'Smith.' So how can I help you?"

"This is kind of bizarre, but-"

"You're looking for Grant?"

"Well, yeah. How did you know?"

"Why else would you call me? And, why are you calling from Denver? Shouldn't you be at school now?"

Man. Even Grant's grandmother is critical. I am soooo tired of explaining this to everyone.

Still, she gave me his new cell number. "Would you like me to call him for you?" she offered.

Even she knows the situation is dire. "N-no," I said. "That's OK."

But it was so tempting. Maybe I could ask Grantmother to do my dirty work. Call G for me, let him know I was seeing W, find out if he was with someone new. Etc. But that was probably asking a tad too much.

"But really," she said, "you just give him a call. He'll be so happy to hear from you."

"He will?" I asked.

"The boy's not heartless."

"So, um, how is he?" I asked, suddenly dying to know. You know when you don't think much about a person or see a person for a long time, you kind of forget about how they are, what they're like? And then when you do get to see them again, it's amazing because you were so close once? Just talking to Grantmother was flooding my brain with good memories of me and Grant.

"He's happy, and busy, and happy because he's busy. Trying to make a big dent in soph.o.m.ore year." She said he works at a grocery store called Shop & Shop near campus, and told me where it was. I could track him down there, she said, and told me his schedule. "You know Grant. I mean, you could try finding him at home, I'd be OK giving you his address, but he's always either in cla.s.s or at work."

That figures, I thought. Grant Superior. Reliable, hardworking, handsome, best boyfriend ever- To someone else, probably. Not me. Now I am with W. And besides, I've changed, so I bet Grant has changed, too.

For instance, now I'm a college dropout. Kickout. Dropkickout.

9/9.

Sitting in bathroom hiding from Mom and Sterling, who are being disgustingly romantic. Making out on sofa a little bit. Draping themselves in suggestive ways. Do they not realize they are middle-aged and not supposed to do that?

But then, think of my grandparents.

Or don't, if you want to spare yourself.

This family doesn't know how to have relationships but does apparently know how to kiss, etc.

I came in here to paint my nails, get ready for any future outings. Not just the one to possibly, maybe see Grant after not seeing him for eight months.

Eight months. That's, like, long enough that I could have had a baby in that time. Not that I would have, or even came close to having, because, you know, I don't do those sorts of things, but it's a point of reference, you know, nine months. And yes, I would know, because my stepsister Angelina-not-Jolie had a baby two years ago.

Babbling. Must pull myself together and stop contemplating the can of shave gel on the tub, which has line through CFC initials on back. CFC-Free. That's me. CFC with a line through it. Canceled.

And why does sensitive skin sound so much better in French? Peau sensible.

See, it's sensible skin I have-not rashy and allergic and sensitive. Just sensible.

Like moi.

Occasionally.

9/10.

Am parked outside Shop & Shop grocery store on College Ave. The mountains off to the west are beautiful. I've really, really missed the mountains.

OK, I'm just delaying the inevitable freak-out.

Now, officially, freaking out.

So much for thinking that I've changed or am being mature. I'm a wreck. I'm stressed over the top. If I were a cheese, I'd be melted. If I were a bagel, I'd be toasted.

G.o.d. Can't believe I'm making bagel metaphors. I think I need to eat before I go inside and face Grant.

Like, an entire bottle of Tums. Well, probably they sell those at Shop & Shop, so at least I'm in the right place.

What if Grant won't talk to me? Won't talk back, I mean? What if he just stands there with that cold "like the lake" Superior glare he has sometimes? So disapproving. He'd just stare at me and mouth the words spring break, and I'd have to run out of the store with my tail between my eggs like Oscar.

Legs. Tail between my legs.

And think about it. How would I have felt if he suddenly showed up in Wisconsin and walked into the place where I worked, Bagle Finagle? I'd have freaked out. It would have made no sense, you know?

So he'll see me standing there and . . . how will he react?

Time to stop writing. Take deep breaths. And walk in there.

Wish me luck, dear journal.

LATER.

Blood pressure: 300/200 at best.

Pulse: thready (learned that on Grey's Anatomy) and yet pounding.

I am recovering from Grant Encounter #1.

From a distance, customer service desk looked non-

threatening.

Then again, from a distance even tigers can look nonthreatening, like teeny tiny cute striped kittens.

I tried to camouflage myself by pushing a shopping cart. Then I put the closest tall thing I could find in front of my face to hide me; unfortunately the only thing that would work was a giant package of toilet paper, on its end. I was crouched over like a tiny older person with back trouble. Like I wasn't a mostly healthy, mostly vegetarian person with a love of calcium that strengthened my bones.

Up close, the customer service desk was a whir of activity. I hid behind the TP and watched.

It was him.

He turned around.

Same dark brown hair. Same eyes. (Why would they have changed? I don't know. I was just stunned by the sight of him, that's all.) Kind of stronger looking somehow. Older? I did see him in January, which isn't that long ago, but I somehow had forgotten a little about his hockey body. He's no towering cornstalk like Wittenauer. He's more of the strong, silent type. Not the tall, skinny type.

He didn't see me for a minute so I had time to study him, to peek.

I was slowly walking forward when my shopping cart slammed into someone else's that I didn't see. The towering TP tipped over.

Grant and I made eye contact. I wanted to run, but TP was in the way.

Grant looked a little pale and green, like he was going to throw up. Then I realized it was because he was wearing this green Shop & Shop employee vest. It was dorky. Not fashionable in the least. Almost embarra.s.sing. Then he said, "You're not a very good driver, are you?"

"I'm a-a-fine driver," I said.

Then we both started laughing. "Courtney? What are you doing here?" He came out from behind the counter. "I'm so . . . stunned. I just can't believe you're here. Um, why are you?"

"I'm not sure," I said. My stomach churned. "I need Tums?"

There was an awkward pause while he adjusted a few packs of gum in a rack of candy. Big Red. Juicy Fruit. Stride. I stared at them, at his hands, to avoid making eye contact. He reached into the top rack, which was full of medicine that only looked like candy. "There you go," he said, handing me a roll of Tums.

"Oh. Thanks," I said.

Then I felt it. The chill. A polar ice cap descended onto the customer service desk, like every freezer door had been opened, which is funny, because Grant and I kind of hooked up over polar bears.

But then, the chill vanished almost as soon as it arrived. All of a sudden it felt really, really warm in that Shop & Shop. I wanted to run to the freezer section. My blood was running hot and cold. Any second now, I'd probably pa.s.s out.

Was I coming down with something, or was it just seeing Grant?

"Is that it?" he asked. "You drove all the way from Wisconsin for a roll of Tums?"

Maybe he thought I was there to try to win him back. Or apologize for bailing on him for spring break. Which I still needed to do.

"It's a long story. But not all that long, actually. I just found out that I, um, don't have financial aid for Cornwall Falls. So, I had to come home."