Grammy leans forward and comes to me. She cradles my face in her hands and locks eyes with me. Her blue eyes, the color of faded denim, shine. “Of course you feel that way. Because you have a loving heart. And . . . well . . . I guess the truth of it is that you are much braver than your ole grammy.”

And when she kisses the top of my head and I rest my cheek on her soft shoulder, I finally feel like I can sit with the sad and the happy all at the same time.

And share it with Grammy.

Chapter 41

FELINE KINDER

Grammy is the best. She promised me that we won’t sell anything that was in the Strong Shoulder jar, and she gave me my mother’s whale ring to keep.

As I wash the dirt from the jar, I think about how, like a seed in the ground, burying made things grow. But not in a good way. Just like how not talking about things can make stuff feel like a bigger problem, and even more confusing.

I’m drying the jar when the doorbell rings.

Since it’s pretty much understood that if the place isn’t burning down, I get the door if Grammy is watching television, I swing open the door. It’s Tressa, looking at our house the same way she did the first time. Same pink lips all bunched together like a giant wad of bubble gum.

The difference is that I don’t care what she thinks anymore.

She acts like she’s a secret agent, glancing from side to side, leaning away from the glow of our porch light, and asking in a loud whisper, “Can I talk to you for a second? Outside, I mean?”

I step outside slowly.

She assumed I’d follow. Why not? She’s Tressa. She could probably herd bedbugs. She walks around the corner toward the backyard, and I follow her. I’m curious.

Then she turns around. “Hey. Why did you do that with the dog?” she asks.

“Because.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“I wanted to save the dog,” I say. “I didn’t do it for you or even the lady who owns the dog. I wanted to save the dog.”

She stares at the Band-Aids on my knees. Enough Band-Aids to make Ruby jealous.

“Yeah, well, for the record, the last thing I want is to feel like I owe you anything.”

“I already told you that you don’t owe me anything. Nada. Zilch.”

Tressa raises an eyebrow at me. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you take the money?”

“You know,” I say, “you could just say thank you.”

She folds her arms. “Well, as you said, you did it for the dog. Not me.”

“Yeah. I did.”

“Okay, then,” she says. “I just want to make sure that we’re even.”

I think about telling her that we will never be even, as in the same, but I know she wouldn’t understand and she’d want to argue. I don’t want to win a fight with her. I just want her to go so I can be happy again.