“I’ll give Fisher a pass, maybe.” Grandma frowned. “But not the slut moving in on him.”
Rory’s mom was outspoken like my dad’s mom, just in a different way. However, they probably would have both agreed that I was a slut.
Rory flinched and so did Rose. Me? Nope. I didn’t flinch. I could see it from both sides. And because I could see it from both sides, I thought we all needed a little coming to Jesus moment.
“It’s me,” I said.
“Sorry. What, dear?” Grandma said, smiling at me … the slut.
“I’m the slut.”
“Reese,” Rory whispered, closing her eyes and shaking her head.
“Excuse me?” Grandma squinted.
After taking a sip of my water, I calmly set it on the table and grinned. “Fisher is my boyfriend. And we fell in love over five years ago. And as wrong as that probably seems to everyone else, the only thing that was wrong was the timing. But we have an unexpected second chance. And we’ve fallen in love again. Well, I’ve never stopped loving him, but he … he’s fallen in love with me again. And he doesn’t remember what we were before now. And that’s heartbreaking and frustrating. But it’s also beautiful and maybe even perfect. And I realize this is a really hard pill for everyone else to swallow, but our love has nothing to do with Angie. I don’t think her ties to the man who doesn’t remember her makes what we have wrong. So let’s all take a timeout here and not call people sluts when we haven’t walked in their shoes. I realize it’s often the Christian way, but I think I can love God and love every single one of his children without judging anyone. And the last I checked, you’re also sitting at the same table as my lesbian mother and her partner, whom we love so very much. And it’s hard to imagine anything about their love is wrong. Wouldn’t we all agree?”
Rose wiped a tear from her face, and Rory’s emotions shined in her eyes too.
My grandparents held an even mix of shock and embarrassment in their expressions.
I stood, tossing my napkin onto the table. “I’m going to take a few minutes to myself. Call me when pie is served.”
Nobody said a word. And I was grateful. I didn’t want apologies or awkward attempts to explain away the previous conversation where I was labeled a slut. Had I not been the slut, it could have been somebody else’s daughter or granddaughter.
Everyone means the world to someone. Or at least they should.
When I collapsed onto my bed, I called Fisher. After multiple rings, it went to voicemail. So I called again … and again.
On the fourth call, he answered. “Hi,” he said in a neutral tone. “I’m eating dinner. What’s up?” He was eating dinner with his family. His whole family and Angie.
“I love you today,” I said.
Silence.
More silence.
“Say it. Say it back to me, Fisher. Like you mean it. Like it matters.”
“Can we chat about this later?”
“I said it. In front of my grandparents … after they unknowingly called me a slut. I said it. I’m tired of not saying it. I’m tired of feeling guilty. Just … say it and let everyone else fucking deal with it.”
He cleared his throat. “So you clogged the garbage disposal?”
I pressed End.
Throwing my arm over my face, I grumbled and growled, just like the old Fisher. I was angry with him and the rest of the world. And I know it wasn’t fair for me to ambush him like that—after all, he stood up to Rory and unapologetically told her that he loved me.
But I wanted him to make the gesture without getting caught first. Was that too much to ask?