One word prompt: Tea
Grandma didn’t make coffee very often since Grandpa died, but I liked it black, so in that regard I was pretty easy. Grandma’s dad was from England, so she liked tea. Family lore had it that he had been stationed off the coast of Maryland with the Royal Navy and had jumped ship after throwing a shoe at an officer. It was a funny story.
She put the coffee next to my breakfast, which I had been picking at. I picked up the cup carefully, trying to hide my shaking hands.
“So. On Sunday I’m going to pick you up and we’re going to go to church,” she said.
I took a moment to think. “Grandma, I don’t think I’m ready.”
“Honey, it’s only an hour. We’ll go and I’ll take you out to breakfast afterward.”
“I-I’m just not ready.” I wasn’t. I had tried. Church always made me feel good for a few hours, but then life came back and I went to the store. I still owed them $6.50.
“Well,” she was trying not to cry. “I’m disappointed, but let me know when you’re ready.”