by Ellis Shuman
“Buttermilk.”
“Butterfly.”
“Butternut.”
“Bread and butter!”
“But that’s butter at the end.”
“What if I eat the butter first?”
“How can you eat the butter first on a piece of bread?”
“By licking it off!”
It’s a word game we play, one of the many ways I keep Kira occupied when her mother is gone. I love spending time with my granddaughter. She’s beautiful, and it’s not just me who says that. Kira has a keen mind and is wise beyond her seven years. She’s a lot of fun!
“Buttercup.”
“Butterlicious!”
“Now you’re making words up.”
“Grandma, you do that too, sometimes.”
“I would never…”
“What about that time you tried to convince me that Ant Warp was a place.”
“Antwerp! It’s a city in Belgium.”
“Have you been to Belgium?”
“No.”
“So, how can you know for sure?”
I laugh, push up the blonde bangs from her forehead. Her face is so pretty. Brown eyes and thin lips. Dimples you could die for. She gets them from her mom.
“When’s she coming back?”
I look at my phone. “Soon. She has some errands to run.”
“Oof, always errands. Maybe I’m an errand she should run!”
“You’re not an errand,” I say, stroking her shoulder. “You’re the reason she runs her errands.”
“Do you think she’ll buy me that magical unicorn?”
“It’s not your birthday yet. That’s in two months.”
“Two months is a long time.”
“It’ll be here before you know it.”
“We’ve been here a long time. When can we go home?”
My phone rings, a loud ring. My daughter insisted on a loud ring because I’m hard of hearing. I’m not, I argued, although I knew what she said was true. Partially.
“I’m running late, Mom. There’s traffic, and I didn’t get to the drugstore yet.”
“Kira is getting impatient.”
“Why don’t you play one of those word games with her?”
“That’s what we’ve been doing.”
“Is that Mommy? Let me talk to her!”
I hand Kira my phone, lean back in my chair and smile. My lovely granddaughter. Kira talks with her mother, an exaggerated pleading for her to finish her errands and come back as soon as possible. The conversation ends and Kira returns the phone.
“She said she’ll buy me a Snickers bar.”
“Okay. So, what do you want to play next?”
“I don’t want to play. I want to go home.”
“I know,” I say. I can’t promise her that, or anything, for that matter. I look up at the infusion bag, making sure the drip continues at its slow, steady pace. “As soon as the doctors say you can go home…” I don’t finish the sentence.
“Oof! Always the doctors!”
She looks sour for a minute, eases back on her hospital bed, as if she’s trying to get as far away from her disease as possible, but then her face lights up.
“Butterscotch!” she announces triumphantly, and we both giggle.
Ellis Shuman is an American-born Israeli author, travel writer, and book reviewer. His writing has appeared in The Jerusalem Post, The Times of Israel, World Literature Today, and The Huffington Post. His short fiction has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, and has appeared in Isele Magazine, Vagabond, The Write Launch, Esoterica, Jewish Literary Journal, San Antonio Review, and other literary publications. He is the author of The Virtual Kibbutz, Valley of Thracians, The Burgas Affair, and Rakiya – Stories of Bulgaria. https://ellisshuman.blogspot.com/
Emerge Literary Journal 