She didn’t.
“You’re serious?”
I took Mom to the grocery store.
“Very serious, Monica.”
“Mom, you’re 82.”
She gave me a flat look.
“I’m aware.”
“You used to say you’d rather walk five miles through snow than drive.”
“Very serious, Monica.”
“I said many stupid things when I was younger.”
Ryan was leaning against the kitchen counter, trying not to smile.
“Are you sure about this, Mom?” he asked.
“I’ve thought it through.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a folder.
Of course she had a folder.
“Are you sure about this, Mom?”
“I had my eyes checked three weeks ago,” she said. “My prescription is current. I’ve read the driver’s manual twice, and I’ve already booked lessons.”
I stared at her.
“You make me sound like your chauffeur.”
“You appointed yourself.”
“You make me sound like your chauffeur.”
“I volunteered.”
“Repeatedly.”
Ryan suddenly found the fruit bowl fascinating.
