I imagined my Gammie on the other end of the phone, her grey hair piled into a bun, a red silk scarf tied around it, her red-manicured nails clutching a Vodka tonic. Her skin was slightly darker than the rest of the women in our family, so she always joked about the milkman. â€œI canâ€™t stand it,â€ she sighed now. â€œIâ€™m the last Democrat in Orange County.â€
I held the receiver away from my mouth so my Gammie wouldnâ€™t hear the inhale and exhale of my cigarette.
â€œDarling,â€ she said. â€œYouâ€™re doing a marvelous jobâ€“as well as anyone could doâ€“but children need fathers, donâ€™t you agree?â€