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The Advice

August 9, 2014

My grandmother shuffled into the kitchen, flip-flops slapping on the linoleum. Her generous curves overflowed the hot-pink silk negligée and nightie wrapped tightly around her body. “All right Tiffany, what’s so fucking important that I had to get up at …” she broke off to glance at the clock on the wall, “10:00 am in the morning?” Her voice was breathy and light reminding me of Marilyn Monroe’s. She slumped down into her chair. “Give me some coffee for goods sake!” She snarled, brushing her tumbled peroxide-blonde and permed curls back from her face. Her baby-blue eyes glared blearily at me. I placed a steaming cup of black Columbian Roast in front of her. Cautiously I slid a saucer across the table to join it. She raised the cup in one hand and took a huge gulp. She sighed in relief as the caffeine hit her system. Moodily she stabbed her fork into the rich slice of Devil’s Food cake covered by dark chocolate frosting. Bright red lipstick covered her pouting mouth even though she had just got up. “Sit down, won’t you. I won’t bite!” She snapped. I loved her, sour mood, vampish attire and all.

I eased into the chair across from her. “Nana …” I began tentatively only to break off as she brusquely interrupted me.

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” She grumped. “It makes me feel so … old!”

I drew in a deep breath and began again. “Seventy’s not that old Doris. I need your advice.”

“My advice?” She asked with some disbelief. “What kind of advice could I give you that your mother couldn’t?” She had never really liked her daughter-in-law, not believing her good enough for her son and after the way my Mom had treated him I couldn’t blame her.

“It’s about a job offer I recently got.”

“Is it a good job?”

“Yes.” I nodded firmly.

“Does it pay well?”

“Very well.” My eyes gleamed at the memory of the salary named.

“Is it something you want to do?”

“More than anything!” I said breathlessly.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’d have to move to the other side of the country.” I said seriously.

“So move. You can keep in touch online can’t you?”

“Yes, but that’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?” She said exasperated.

“Justin doesn’t want to go with me and Mom says I would be crazy to let such a rich fiancé go.”

She sighed heavily. “Tiffany, it’s 2014. Women are no longer defined by their husbands. Do whatever will make you the happiest. You’re the one who’s going to have to live with the choice.”

“Thank you Doris, you’re the best grandmother ever!” I stood up and threw my arms around her, hugging her tight. “I knew you would know what to tell me!” I bubbled over with joy.

“So, what are you going to do?” She asked curiously.

“I’m dumping Justin’s ass and moving!” My smile stretched widely across my face.

“Good for you sweetheart!” She hugged me back.


In response to: Daily Prompt: Odd Trio Redux
Time for another Odd Trio prompt: write a post about any topic you want, in whatever form or genre, but make sure it features a slice of cake, a pair of flip-flops, and someone old and wise.

One Comment
  1. Great advice…

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