Chapter 14

Tristan, helpfully unpacking some of Grandma’s things: “Tada! Look! Your purple massager!”

George fakes a coughing attack until streams of tears run down his eyes.

Tristan: “What?”

Grandma: “Where’s my cat?”

Me, inside my own head. Where’s the valium?

* * * *

Although Tristan and I had been invited to stay for dinner, we declined and walked back to the car. Tris let me drive, so I stopped on the way home and picked up Chinese and he ran to the burger place next door and picked up what he wanted (burger, fries, coke, etc.). We went home and sat down to eat in a nice, peaceful dining room. We barely had time to breathe before we could hear the sheriff and his wife arguing, and five, yes five, small cats ran in and jumped up on our laps and the table. There was nothing to do but laugh.