At Least They're Committed

44 minutes and 30 seconds to Grandpa Grandpa!!!

I’m so excited!

“Then why are you grimacing,” oh, gads, didn’t see him pop up.

“Pthththttttt! I have no idea,” I say.

“Well, find an idea,” he presses.

I sigh and sit back in my chair.

41 minutes, 47 seconds! Grandpa Grandpa, actually called “Tin Bartender,” is a family treasure, a long lost relative!

“Well, let us assess, shall we?” I scowl.

He sits cross-legged on my desk. “Fine.”

I really don’t feel like doing this, but when I roll my eyes up into his, his stare is too intent to gloss over.

“Two of them, two have texted me in the past week about things they want to do to me. The non-geek ones.”

“Right,” he nods.

37 minutes; 21 seconds! Grandpa Grandpa used to sit on the bar in my grandparents’ dining area. Whenever we’d visit, he’d turn on and we’d delight as he shook a drink for himself, poured it into a glass, took a big swig and then smacked his lips, his face turning red and smoke coming out of his ears.

“And it makes me uncomfortable but they’re good friends and I don’t want to hurt them.”

“So?”

“So? So, nothing I guess.”

“And you’re good with that?”

“Not entirely, but I can’t think of any alternatives,” I glance back at the monitor.

35 minutes, 23 seconds! Mostly, I saw Grandpa Grandpa  from below, looking up at him. I was a tiny little thing in the 1960s. But still, I remember my sister and me jumping and clapping and giggling as he did his thing.

“But that’s not all that’s bothering you at this second, is it?”  I HATE when he gets all sensitive-like!

“Eh . . . ”

“Spill it!”

“Fine. I surround myself with people who I think make me feel safe and happy and whom presumably care about me as a person. But I’m not really doing all that great a job with that either! . . . and sometimes it – slash – they frustrate the hell out of me.”

“I think that’s probably OK.”

25 minutes, 1 second!! My grandma moved into assisted living after my grandpa died and nobody really knew where Grandpa Grandpa took off to. I never forgot about him, though; always kind of looked for our long lost relative.

“And then there was that thing online that totally grossed me out. I mean, I work for the mags because I HOPE to get paid, but they’re also something I believe in. Then seeing that, ew, I mean, my standards are pretty low, but is that really something I want to be about?”

He sighs. “You’re committed for now, we’ve discussed this before.”

“I know; and for the most part I’m really OK with all this. Just not right now, just not today.”

20 minutes!! So, we were watching the “Wolverine” movie and right as Sabertooth walks into Merry-from-the-Lord-of-the-Rings’ trailer to kill him the camera flashes to a high shelf and OMG! It’s Grandpa Grandpa!!! But it’s so quick that I’m not entirely sure it’s him and the movie wasn’t good enough for me to want to pay to see it again.

“You do have things to look forward to,” he says.

“I can’t see it,” I snap back.

He smirks.

18 minutes; 6 seconds. I texted my sister my suspicions about Grandpa Grandpa, then waited for the video to come out. We went through frame by frame and YES! It was him, it was him!

“But you keep looking . . . ” he says.

“Yeah, I can’t help it. I wish I were one of those ignorant fucks who is perfectly happy to sit back, complacent and live vicariously through other people and glean joy from reality television.”

11 minutes; 47 seconds! Lucky me, I finally found the right word combination (I guess the fact that his hair was white didn’t trigger anything on the search engines) to be taken to eBay and there, I gasped, was Grandpa Grandpa looking as dapper as ever and yet nobody had bid on him with only 4 and a half hours to go!

“But you’re not content with any of that, are you?”

“Of course not!” I growl.

“And you don’t think that’s a good thing?”

I ponder this a moment. “Seems like it should be, doesn’t it?”

“Yup.”

8:7

“So the problem is?”

“I have no clue who I am or what the hell I’m doing or even what the fuck I expect to gain from any of this.”

His eyes drop and he looks away. “I’ve shown you many times.”

“Well, yeah, in my sleep, and then as much as I try to hold on to the hope the understanding I see, it slips away as I awaken . . . and I rattle on in tongues and people think I’m crazy.”

1 minute; 29 seconds!!!

“You can’t be happy? But you never doubt God or your mission?”

“Nope,” I say. “I just get pissed off.”

He chuckles and, leaning forward, runs his long fingers through my hair.

15, 14, 13, 12 . . . Holy shit! Someone else starts bidding at the last second! What the . . . $32? Did I set it up to go that high? I can’t remember, I think so, I hope so . . .

Holding my breath. I hate eBay!

Oh, I got him, $32! I got Grandpa Grandpa! I can bring him home!!!

He smiles, “I told you that there were things to look forward to!” I choke back something between a laugh and a sob.

“Yeah, I guess you did.”