The Bad Boy and the Girl with Superpowers

Chapter 17-Rice Potato Soup

Slowly coming back into consciousness, I realized that I feel asleep on the couch. My head hurts and my upper back aches. The sun isn't fully seen, but the sky has turned from a midnight blue to a deep blue.

I push myself off and turn on the lamp beside the couch. The T.V. clock reads 4:23. That means I am awake about an hour earlier than I need to be.

I am still in shock of my great-grandmother's passing. She was an Italian immigrant that work through cooking and tailoring. A very independent woman, mostly after her husband as a relatively young age, until she fell and broke her hip. She was sent to a retirement home where she never saw the chance to walk again. She even claimed that she felt like she was waiting to die.

I wasn't too close to her, as (when I was younger) old people made me feel uncomfortable and her memory started to fail her. My immediate family really only visited her around the holidays.

I start to feel guilty for never forging a relationship and learning things from her, like recipes or speaking Italian.

I decide a shower will help wash the guilt away.

By the time I was out of the shower, clad in a white and blue robe, it was around five o'clock. I decided not to eat breakfast and dry my hair with a diffuser I bought recently.

My long hair then reminded of my Nonnie. She once said, after I got my yearly hair cut, that she always preferred short hair. She claimed that the curls are always better.

My dirty blonde hair barely has a curl, it should be called a wave.

I decided that today would be a good day to get my hair cut, right after seeing my grandmother.

•••

The drive to my grandma's house is familiar. Since she lived so close, the family has visited her many times. I pull my car off to the side of the street, right in front of her house.

I walked up the path, and knowing she didn't lock her door, walked right in.

My grandfather sat in his chair on the right of me, beer already in hand, Fox News on the TV

"Hey, sweetheart," he reaches out to me. I step closer and give him a kiss on the check in reply.

My grandmother was in the kitchen on the phone, most likely already planning the funeral. She is that typical Italian grandmother: giving you too much food while calling you fat.

She hangs up the phone and turn to me, "Come say hi to grandma." I embrace her and give her a kiss on the check, as well.

"I am sorry, grandma. How are you doing?" I ask her once I sit down at the island.

"Well, I am doing okay. It was her time to go. She was old and unhappy at the retirement home," she said, with a bittersweet smile. "So her funeral is Friday. I guess she left somethings for you. There is box on the dining room table for you."

I turn to the dining room, but she stops me, "I want you to make a speech at the funeral, at the church. It just has to be something sweet and somewhat related to her." She places her hand on my shoulder and gives me a loving look. I return the look and give her a hug. She relaxes into me and squeezes me harder. 

I release the hug and grab the box in the dining room. It wasn't very big, just a small cube- maybe ten inches on each side. I'd rather not open it with my grandmother breathing down my neck. 

"Sweetheart, do you want something to eat? I can make something for you! I can make rice potato soup, some chicken cutlets, pasta, heat up some leftover Chinese..." My grandmother continues to list foods that she can cook for me. I agree to some rice potato soup and sit down at the kitchen island. 

While she cooks, I handle some business, like calling the school to explain my absence and how I will not be attending school on Friday. I reply to a text from Lizzie, who expresses her sorrow for me. She promised to catch me back up with the work I missed. 

Before I even knew it, the food was done. We sat, ate, and caught up on our lives. It was an interaction I didn't know I was craving. I left with a full belly and full hands. Once in my car, I drove to my normal salon to get my hair cut

***

Now, I am at my house, sitting at the kitchen table. My hair no longer reaches my ribs, but rather barely passes my shoulders and I am looking at the brown box. Scissors in my hand, ready to cut open the box. I am nervous, I don't know what is in the box. It has to be something special if it was laid out for me in her will. I take a deep breathe, grab the box, and cut open into it. 

Right on top was a letter addressed to me. I decide to read it first.

Dear Juliette, 

If you are reading this, then I have passed away. Don't be too sad, it was my time to go. Hopefully now I am with God in Heaven. The purpose on writing this letter is that I know what you are...I know about your secret powers. 

I pause for a second. My heart is pounding and my mind is racing. I am confused. How could she know? I rarely saw her, even before she was in the senior home. I know that I will only get my answers by reading on, so I do just that...

The reason I know this is because I had powers, just like you."