Comfort Zone (Awkward Love 4)

“There’s always one.” I chuckle. “To answer your question, no. I don’t really notice it with Jake,” I say. “Especially now that we’re older.”

“Older? You make it sound like we’ve hit retirement.” Becca makes a face. “Am I too old for a career change? Maybe I should drop out of college and take up knitting. Or bingo.”

I wince. “Don’t mention bingo to Grammy.”

“Why? She’s not a fan? That’s surprising. I thought all old people liked bingo.”

“Oh, she likes it all right,” I mutter. “Grammy likes bingo a little too much.”

“So?” Becca laughs and looks at me like I’m crazy. “What’s the worst that could happen? It’s bingo, for Christ’s sake. It’s not like she’s going to escalate to high stakes poker games and lose millions.”

“Maybe, but I’m pretty sure being banned from three bingo centers still means you have a problem.”

It got so bad at one point that we had to alert every possible gambling venue within a twenty mile radius. That’s impressive, when you live just outside of Vegas. Every casino and hotel had a photo of Grammy stuck to their banned wall. She still managed to con her way into places by playing the innocent little old lady card.

“Really? Grammy’s hard core. I love it.” Becca giggles.

“Yeah, you love it now, but in the middle of one of her episodes? You might not.” I get back to her earlier statement. “And we are older, aren’t we? If you think about it, our parents and grandparents were married with three or four kids by now.”

Becca shudders. “Not my parents. Mom was forty when she had me. Dad Forty-three.”

“Impressive. Are you an only child?” I ask.

She nods. “They had trouble conceiving. I came along after they’d finally come to terms with not having kids.”

“You must have been an amazing gift,” I murmur. “I mean, kids in general are,” I say, backtracking.

She grins. “They’re great: so long as I can send them back home when they start to annoy me.” She chuckles, like she’s a woman with experience. “It’s not that I don’t like kids…I just feel like I’m more suited to looking after a dog, than a child. At least I can lock a dog outside when I’m sick of it.”

“I’m a firm believer that you don’t realize how much you want something until it’s yours, or until you lose it,” I say, for once being completely serious.

“I understand that.” She nods. “But I’m the opposite. I want something, but then I get it and think fuck, what was I thinking?”

I look at her and laugh. “Give me an example, then? Something that you wanted, and it took having it to realize you didn’t want it.”

“You’re putting me on the spot now.” She frowns thoughtfully. “Nope. Sorry. I can’t think with all this pressure.”

“Then you’re heading into the wrong career,” I tease her.

“That’s one of the things I worry about most, whether or not I can handle the pressure of being a vet.” Her tone turns serious and I know this isn’t something she’s joking about.

I shrug. “It’s instinct. You won’t even think about it. When there’s an emergency, you do whatever you need to. You know what to do. You of all people should be confident in your skills. You’re one of the brightest students in my class without even trying.” I smile at her. “I don’t doubt for a second that you can handle any situation you find yourself in.”

She plays with her fingers in her lap, not saying anything. A few more minutes pass and she’s still deep in thought, so I try again to reassure her.

“Seriously, don’t stress about it. You’ll be fine.”

She looks up. Confusion passes through her eyes and then she blushes.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something else, actually.”

“What?” It comes out before I think about how nosy I sound.

“I was thinking about how some people want something so badly and they can’t have it, but other people can have it and don’t want it.” She breathes out quickly, then grins at me. “Try saying that twenty times fast,” she jokes, making a face.

She leans her head back against the seat and glances at me. Sadness clouds her usually vibrant green eyes.

“A friend of mine couldn’t have kids. Like you were saying, not being able to have them made her realize how much she wanted them.” She gazes out the window. “I felt so bad, because here I was, thinking I could give or take having them. I had bigger things on my mind than kids, but it was all she could think about. She didn’t get to make the decision. It was made for her.”

“That’s rough,” I say. “How is she now?”

She smiles at me. “Happy. Which I guess just shows you that life can still work out, even when it’s not what you’re expecting.” She laughs. “Wow, I think this is the deepest conversation I’ve ever had.”