Twenty Dollars and a Tight Dress Will Get Me a House
“Did you get it yet?”
“Yes, it came today. Thank you!” I said with fake enthusiasm.
That’s an appropriate phone call length. Pretty sure I can hang up now.
“And you got the money?” She asked.
“I got the money. Thank you, Dor…Grandma,” I stuttered.
Shit. Keep it together.
My Grandma has always been heartless. She has long been despised by most who meet her and has struggled to show love or kindness to anyone. As a result, our family all call her by her name, Dorothy when she is not around. We stick with “Grandma” when we’re in her presence.
Out of fear, mostly.
“Good,” Dorothy responded. “Now how are you going to spend it?”
It’s twenty bucks for fucks sake. I’ll probably put it in a stripper’s g-string.
“Oh, I’ll add it to my savings,” I stated while clenching my phone, hoping it would disintegrate just like my hopes and dreams.
“Well, it will help you buy a house, I’m sure.”
Totally. I’ll swing by the bank tomorrow and slap the twenty on a desk. “This is my deposit. One house please, Motherfuckers.”
“Have you been to a mortgage adviser yet?” Dorothy questioned.
Like as a joke?
Dorothy never usually sent me money. However, I am currently her favorite grandchild due to my drama-filled divorce. Drama equals gossip. Her favorite. Sending me money, meant she could call to check I received it, which really meant she could gather information for her gossip crows.
“No. I’m not trying to buy a house yet,” I said with an exasperated tone.
Mistake. The dragon is coming. The dragon is coming.
Dorothy huffed, obviously picking up on my tone. “Well, don’t you think it’s about time you do? You’re not young anymore and this is getting rather silly!”
I’m basically twelve.