Favorite (part 2)

As the years went by, I wouldn’t see much of Brooke - since she was getting older and probably looking for part-time work. This ultimately led Taylor to reign supreme. Taylor was different than Brooke when it came to having things to do. It was pretty much an obsession of hers to always be busy. She’d pest the rest of us to do something. One time, she became so frustrated with our lax demeanors she made our grandpa take her home.

         When Taylor grew out of being babysat by our grandma - all that was left was Trevor, my sister Erin, and I. You would have thought since Brooke and Taylor were out of the way things would have gotten better, nope.

~

         Trevor and I were pretty close growing up. We both had dark brown hair and brown eyes, therefore people often asked if we were siblings. Since Brooke and Taylor went to a different school district, people didn’t know there were more of us.

         Trevor knew almost everything about me. We could play xbox together, watch the same TV shows, and go four wheeling together. Unlike the rest of my cousins on my father’s side, I was behind on everything - socially, personally, and technologically.

         The summer before eighth grade my parents had finally gave me a cellphone. Nothing fancy, just a blue LG enV3 that flipped up displaying a full keypad. It suited me fine though Trevor had this really small touch screen phone, which baffled me because he had such big hands. Since it was my first phone I spent most of my time trying to get used this new device. There was one instance where Trevor and I were both on our grandma’s porch, just chilling and playing with our phones, when suddenly my grandma stormed over and took mine from me.

         “You’re not going to spend your summer on your phone.” she snapped. She took it with her back into the house and hid it.

         Why didn't she take Trevor’s phone? He was on it the same time I was? He even used it more than me - guess he loved the attention he got with his eligible bachelor status. What gave her the right?

         Some time went by and Trevor began to catch on to the way my grandma treated me. There were times when he would stick up for me, asking why she treated me different, but she just would scold him and it would be done.

         If we went on four wheeler rides or if I just wandered off with him anywhere and I didn't tell my grandma, she would flip out the instant I returned.

         “You have to ask me to go anywhere!” This often resulted in confinement. Anytime I ‘misbehaved’, she would sit me in this old wooden high chair, that my little sister used at dinner, in a small, tight corner of the kitchen.

         “You’re going to sit there until your father gets here.” Remarkably, I was a teenager, sitting in this little high chair that could barely fit my rear, in a corner, that I was expected to stay on till my father picked me up, which wouldn’t be till 6pm.

         These occasions happened regularly. What do you expect from a young teen? Rebellion, and I went about it through arguing and snarky remarks.

~

         When I was old enough to realize that she was definitely regarded me differently than the rest of my cousins, I would tell my parents how she had treated me that day and beg them to confront her. Their response was always: “that is just the way she is.”

         However there was one instance that my father did stand up to his mother. I had done something or gone somewhere with Trevor and my grandma was ‘tattling’ on me to my father. We were standing on her cinder block-lain driveway, just my father, my grandma, and I. I remember him looking at her as he questioned why she let Trevor do something and not me. She just looked at him, mouth gaping. She finally just threw up her arms and went back into the house.

         Though it was hard for them to stick up for me, I knew my parents understood what I was going through, especially my father. He was the third child of four kids. First was my aunt Tammy, my uncle Butch, then my father, and finally my uncle Thad. Out of all the kids, my uncle Butch was my grandma’s shining star. He was allowed to play sports, go out (party), and do anything he wanted. In school, he was rather smart and often tutored other students - he was a kid to be proud of. If he happened to get into trouble or do something she normally deemed inappropriate, my grandma wouldn’t scold him. Though she would scold the others if they acted as such.

         When I would come home in tears after grandma had smothered my dignity, my father would sit me down to explain his mother to me. These moments were the only times I ever saw my father tear up on me. The moments when he described how his own mother treated him and my aunt differently - my aunt ultimately joined the military just to escape her mother. This tall, burly bearded man, with tears in similar eyes as mine, displayed a side I never expected to witness from my normally reserved and collected father.

         My father and I are similar in many ways. We’re both pale, hazel eyed, artistic, and excessive in our worries and stresses. Though talking about my grandma, his mother, was the only time we could bond on an emotional level.

*

         Once high school started, my participation in school sports kept me busy and free from my grandma. My parents also allowed me to go home afterwards and trusted me to be there by myself. In those years, there was little to no interaction with grandma Tompkins.

         No matter how hard I try I cannot pin point a time when my grandma started treating me differently than my cousins. My only hypothesis is that it happened because my mother was trying to be helpful by taking me to a babysitter. My grandma must have felt distant from me due to the lack of bonding and alienated me because of it. I also believe it has to do with who my parents were. Since Brooke and Taylor’s dad was Butch, her beloved son, the special treatment was passed down. Though Trevor’s dad Thad wasn’t ‘up there’ as much as Butch, Thad was still the baby growing up and Trevor remained the only grandson. What’s bothersome is that my sister was above me probably because grandma actually babysat her. All I know is that when all five grandkids were at her house, things were unfair for me.

         There had been a time I had stood up to my grandma but I’m not certain that was the moment things changed between us. Maybe that incident and the fact that school sports took up most of my time gave her the chance to reflect on her behavior.

         As the years went by, something definitely changed in her. My parent’s say it may have to do with her getting older and realizing her mistakes. In addition to those, my grandpa was diagnosed with leukemia and lymphoma thus leaving her reliant on the rest of the family. Whatever the reason she’s different now.

                   She hugs me.

                   She’s helped me with various school projects.

                   She’s even told me she loves me.

                   Shockingly enough, she even kisses me now.

         The first time she did these things caught me off guard. I had no idea how to react or reciprocate her actions. These types of affections coming from my grandma were rather foreign to me. Though I felt awkward and oddly uncomfortable afterwards, I didn't deny or intercept her efforts.

                   When she hugged me, I tensely hugged her back - hoping they’d be short.

                   When she helped me with a project, I’d thank her and be on my way.

                   When she tells me she loves me, I say the same thing back, though my responses were on autopilot.

                   When she kisses me goodbye, I lean in, smile, then scurry out the door - still feeling the lingering ghost of her thin lips against my once forgotten freckled cheek.

         Just sitting down to talk with her is still fresh and rather difficult. Conversation flows so naturally with my gram but just halts when it comes to my grandma Tompkins. It’s more like talking to an old friend, which involves the “hi, how are you?s” and “anything new?s”, than my grandma, who has influenced the person I am now because she had caused a huge rift between us. My mother believes wholeheartedly that if I could just ‘forgive and forget’ how she treated me (and my father) that my interaction with her would be easier or more natural.

         I can’t really expect my mother to fully understand how much my grandma’s favoritism has affected me. However, I do understand where she’s coming from. My grandma has obviously made countless efforts to develop some sort of grandmother to granddaughter relationship yet I just cannot bring myself to reciprocate any emotion towards her. Not receiving affection from a grandma at such a young and impressionable age is rather swaying on future endeavors.

         She lives alone now (except for her cat Socks) since my grandpa’s ailments finally concurred his fatiguing body. She herself is getting older and who knows how much time she has? College has definitely made visiting her difficult however as much as it pains me to admit, I don’t mind. Being away from my extended family has allowed me to shut them out. For the Tompkins side, its mainly trying to free myself from my envy towards Brooke, Taylor, and now Trevor. Time and distance has generated a lack of closeness and fondness. On my mother’s side, it has given me some breathing room from my younger cousins. Keeping in mind, there are eight of us, including me. As a whole, the distance from both families has given me the chance to prosper and grow as my own person. It has enabled me to discover myself and keep this new Hunter a mystery. 

         Though the distance cannot shake the ailing mystery: why is it so difficult for me to accept my grandmother’s love? Maybe it is because I’m still harboring some bitterness for the unfair treatment I received as a child. Or maybe it’s because I see the phrase “I love you” as overused and hollow. Personally, I perceive love in the little things or actions one does for another. Even though my grandma has tried to display her affection to me through hugs and kisses, there is no way I can discern it as love.

         Yet, in the end it has come full circle. Today, if I walk into her house and smell the makings of roast beef, carrots, and potatoes, she’ll happily greet me and announce:

         “I’m glad you came! I made your favorite.”