Cement Heart(62)

I glanced down at Matthew and back up at her, lost as to what she’d laughed at. “What?”

“Have you ever seen the movie Forrest Gump?” she asked.

Random.

“Yeah, a long time ago.”

“There’s that scene at the very end of the movie where big Forrest goes in to watch TV with little Forrest and Jenny is watching them from behind. She smiles to herself because they look the same and sit the exact same way. You two just reminded me of that.”

I hadn’t even noticed that Matthew and I were sitting the exact same way with our legs out to the side and our pile of Legos in the middle between us.

“Wasn’t Jenny cooking those hard-working men dinner during that scene?” I teased, grinning up at her as I connected two tiny red Legos.

“I told you I don’t cook. I can make spaghetti and French toast. That’s about it.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Scrambled eggs?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Meatloaf?”

“Nope.”

“Chili?”

“Nope.”

“Burgers?”

“I don’t even know how to use the grill.” She laughed. “Why do you think I ordered pizza?”

Matthew, without looking up from his Legos, exclaimed, “I love pizza!”

“Thank God for that, buddy.” I reached over and messed up his hair.

“Oh, whatever. You’re telling me you can cook?” Michelle walked around to the front of the couch and sat down, pulling her legs up under her.

“Actually, yes,” I said matter-of-factly as I set the Legos down and turned toward her. “I really like cooking, but I never do it because it’s just me. Not worth the mess.”

She pulled her bottom lip in and nodded. “Impressive. What can you make?”

“Just about anything.” I shrugged. “My grandma taught me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was a cook for years. She didn’t go to school for it or anything, but she was better than most who did.” I stared down at the ground, smiling as I talked about Gam. “She worked at a seminary in the kitchen, so she would cook for the aspiring priests. Huge dinner parties every night. And she would bring home any leftovers for us. Pot roast, rosemary chicken, the most amazing mashed potatoes you ever had in your life. Real stick-to-your-ribs comfort food. She’s amazing.”

My mouth started to water thinking of all the food Gam used to have just sitting in her fridge.

“Anyway.” I shrugged. “I used to ask her how she made this dish and that dish and I paid attention. Even now when I try to make something new, I split it in half and take it over to her for her approval, holding my damn breath as she puts that first bite in her mouth.”

Realizing I was rambling on for too long about Gam, I looked up at Michelle, who had a tear running down her cheek.

I panicked. “What did I say? I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” She wiped the tear away. “It’s nothing you said… I’m just jealous. I never really had a family. I was adopted, the only child my parents ever had, and they divorced when I was young. We visited my grandparents once a year, if that, and eventually they died. My mom passed when I was in high school, and my dad remarried and moved out to the West Coast. We talk, but not often. So really, it’s just me.”

“I’m so sorry.” I felt terrible. Just when I thought that the guilt had run its course and I was better, something happened to bring it right back to the surface. Mike was her only person, and I took him away.

“It’s okay.” She smiled the most unconvincing smile I’d ever seen. “I’m used to it. It’s always kinda just been me and Mike. I don’t know if you know, but Taylor moved here shortly after he died to help me and see the kids more often. She does try, but about a week after she got settled in, she discovered that the young musician in the apartment next to hers was the love of her life, so she’s been… preoccupied.”

“You should go with me to meet Gam sometime,” I blurted out. The words were just out of my mouth and I instantly regretted them.

She flinched slightly and narrowed her eyes at me. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. Just someone to go visit. She only really has me, but I’m a horrible grandson and don’t get over there as often as I should.”

“Oh, have your parents passed too?”

All it took was one sentence for every muscle in my body to tense up.

“No, they’re alive,” I said sharply.

“You don’t see them?”

“No.”

“You don’t have to, but do you wanna tell me why?”