Pressing her lips together, she nods. Then to my surprise, she agrees.
“You’re right. They will.”
“Wow, that’s encouraging,” I joke.
“But it’s true, Sage. Those differences will never go away and love will not make them any easier to ignore. I was married to Walter for forty-seven years. He was in the Navy for twenty of them and I burned my bra and went to Woodstock.”
I laugh, biting my lip at the image of a young Gladys running around high on everything she could get her hands on.
“There were fundamental things we could never agree on.
Things we were raised to believe that would never change.
Good things and bad. He could be a stubborn, pigheaded asshole, and so could I. But I loved him more than anything in the world.”
Tears moisten her eyes as she speaks, shutting them for a moment as she gets lost in a feeling.
“How?” I whisper. “How could you get past all of that?”
“Because,” she replies, “we built a life together. A life we loved. And underneath all the bullshit and all the things out of our control, we agreed on the things that mattered. And no one had to change.”
Reaching out, I touch her hand. “That was beautiful, Gladys. Thank you.”
“Sage, baby. You deserve all the happiness in the world, whether it’s with him, someone else, or all alone.”
“I love you,” I whisper as she pulls me in for a tight hug.
Just as we part, I look up and see Adam emerging from the stairwell. He’s dressed in the same bloodied clothes he wore last night because he doesn’t have anything else at my apartment.
As soon as he sees me, he smiles. Then he crosses the room with his disheveled hair and sleepy eyes.
“What’s going on?” he asks, running his hand over his head.
“Mary made enchiladas,” I answer as I scoop a bite from my plate and lift it to his mouth.
“Who are all these people?” he whispers before wrapping his lips around the fork. Immediately, he makes a satisfied face as he chews.
“Just…people in the community,” I reply.
“We had extra food, so we’re sharing,” Gladys adds.
His eyes are on my face, and his expression is warm.
Something like surprise and pride radiates off of him. “You do this a lot?”
I look at Gladys and we both shrug. “I don’t know. Like…
once a month or so.”
His smile grows. Then, it slides away like melting wax, as if he’s retreating into a memory.
Before he can start to beat himself up, I tug on his shirt.
“You need to get out of these clothes so we can wash them.”
Then I pull him toward the back of the long room. “Where are you taking me?” he asks mischievously.
“Getting you something to wear.”
That wrinkle between his brows deepens, watching me as I open the large closet behind the industrial dryers. Inside, we have a folded array of clothes. “This is almost as bad as your bedroom,” he mutters, and I laugh. “What is all this?”
“Oh, just clothes that got left behind over the years. We keep it all clean and folded here in case anyone needs something.”
I pull out a dark-blue T-shirt and hold it up to his frame.
When he glances down, he lets out a chuckle. “You must be joking.”
“Hey, it fits,” I reply, stifling my own laughter. Then, I pull his bloodstained polo over his head, watching so as not to hit his bad hand. Then I slide the blue T-shirt on, running my hand down the front and over the words World’s Best Grandpa.
He holds his hands out, letting me admire his new look.
I’m trying not to grin too much as I nod in appreciation.
“Okay, unbutton those now,” I say, gesturing to his pants.
Laughing to himself, he shakes his head as he does. As he pulls them off, glancing around the corner to make sure no one else is coming to see him in his boxers, I riffle through the closet, looking for a pair of pants that will fit.
When I find a pair of green joggers in what I assume is his size, I pull them out and hold them up for him. He laughs again but doesn’t argue as he snatches them from my hand and slides them on.
Once he’s fully dressed in a stranger’s clean, lost-and-found clothes, I wrap my hands around him and reach on my tiptoes for a kiss. He presses his mouth to mine and gently slides his tongue between my lips. Before I know it, it’s getting heated, and I have to peel myself away to keep from
doing something very illicit in the back of Gladys’s Laundromat.
“Gladys should be able to get these stains out,” I say, picking his dirty clothes up off the floor. Then we walk hand in hand out to the main area of the Laundromat, and I catch Gladys staring at him in surprise.
“I hardly recognize you,” she says with a laugh.
“Thanks for…uh, letting me borrow these,” he stammers.
“Anytime,” she replies, patting him on the back.
“Hungry?” Mary asks, already busy making him a plate.
“Very,” he replies before taking it from her with a smile.
“Thank you so much.”
Then he takes the newly empty seat at the table, smiling at the man sitting next to him. The two of them strike up their own private conversation, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away as something swells inside my chest at the sight.
Adam wanted to feel closer to God, and I can’t help but wonder if he realizes how close he is now.
Thirty-Three
Adam
S age holds open the black garbage bag as I scoop the remaining paper plates and plastic cups in. I don’t even know what time it is. After I woke up to find her gone, I came down to an unexpected gathering.
And honestly, I haven’t been tempted to even check my phone in the last two hours, so I really have no idea what time it is.
I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. There’s something so authentic about Gladys and Mary—right along with every person who joined them for dinner. I don’t know their situations, but it is obvious that that’s not what this is about. It isn’t about feeding the homeless to feel better about themselves or to fulfill some promise to God.
It’s about feeding them because they are hungry.
My mother would have loved this.
For the first time in a while, thinking about my mother doesn’t incite an immediate stabbing pain of guilt in my chest.
Instead, I just focus on the memories, mostly of a time before the megachurch and Dad’s big career. Back when things were simple.
And then I look at Sage. Without any makeup, her cheeks take on a natural hint of pink to match her bubblegum hair.
Even without those fake lashes and thick black lines around her eyes, they still pop with a deep ocean blue.
I have no idea what this thing is between us now. And I don’t think she does either. But it’s real. At least that much we know is true.
This morning she asked to stop the fake dating scheme, but even though I agreed, I’m not sure I’m ready to let it go. I can’t let my father get away with his lies just like that.
But do I still need Sage to do it?
I don’t want to think about that right now. So once we’ve cleaned up the Laundromat and closed its doors for the night, I stop her before she goes back upstairs.