George's chest swelled with a surge of power he'd never felt before. His pulse quickened. For the first time in his life, he'd managed to silence Grandma Beatrice mid-tirade.
"Yes." The word came out steady, deliberate. "He's actually starting work this coming Monday."
Grandma Beatrice's entire body went rigid. Her weathered hands gripped the armrest of her chair, knuckles whitening. A storm of emotions flickered across her face—shock, disbelief, anger—each one chasing the last. Her jaw clenched, then released. She inhaled sharply through her nose, gathering herself, but George could see it: the defeat darkening her eyes.
"Stop mortifying yourself, boy!" The words exploded from her lips. "Am I that stupid in your eyes? Do you think it's that easy to get employed at ZamCorp Base One?"
The questions came rapid-fire, each one sharper than the last. Her gaze locked onto George's face with fierce intensity—a look that had made him squirm since childhood. It meant *stop lying*.
But George didn't flinch. His shoulders remained square, his breathing even. This was his moment.
"I'm telling you the truth." His voice didn't waver. "Have I ever lied to you?"
The silence that followed felt thick enough to touch.
Grandma Beatrice rose slowly, her joints creaking with the movement. She crossed the living room in measured steps, the floorboards groaning beneath her weight, and sank into her favorite chair—the one with the faded floral pattern worn smooth by decades of use. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, her eyes distant and troubled.
"Are you serious?" Her voice had lost its edge, replaced by something raw. Uncertain.
George felt his grandmother's scrutiny like a physical weight. She knew him too well. He'd never been able to lie to her, not convincingly. Not about anything that mattered. And she knew he wouldn't lie about something this monumental.
He nodded, slow and deliberate. "I meant every word."
Grandma Beatrice shook her head, her gray curls catching the dim morning light filtering through the windows. Her lips moved soundlessly, as if testing different responses, finding none that fit.
"This can't be. This is..." She swallowed hard. "Unbelievable."
A warmth spread through George's chest—satisfaction, vindication. Finally. Maybe now she'd see Delvin differently. Maybe now she'd understand.
"You better believe it, Granny." He couldn't keep the smile from his voice.
But Grandma Beatrice wasn't finished. George watched the wheels turning behind her eyes, searching for angles, for leverage, for some way to regain the upper hand.
"You see," she began, leaning back in her chair, "your friend's life will never be the same. If he's good at what he does..." She paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "What did he study? Or has he been hired as a janitor?"
George's laugh burst out before he could stop it—half amusement, half disbelief. His grandmother was relentless.
'You're a tough woman, aren't you?' he thought, shaking his head.
"He studied Electrical and Electronics Engineering." Each word came out crisp, definitive.
The color drained from Grandma Beatrice's face. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. She pressed her fingers to her temples as if trying to contain the thoughts threatening to spill out.
"Oh my God." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "He's going to be *rich*. George, you'll never be on the same level as him now. Never." Her eyes snapped back to his face, suddenly urgent. "Learn from him. Everything you can. How old is he?"
George heard the unspoken wish trembling beneath her questions: 'If only it were you. If only this were happening to our family.' His chest tightened, but he kept his expression neutral, taking his time before responding.
"Eighteen."
The word settled between them like a stone dropping into still water.
Grandma Beatrice's demeanor shifted entirely. Her voice softened, taking on an almost reverent quality. "Only the sky is the limit for him." She leaned forward, her arthritic hands clasped together. "I've heard whispers—gossip from the market—that ZamCorp Base One is working on something extraordinary. A spacecraft. Something that could leave Earth's orbit and search for planets with water." Her eyes grew distant, glistening. "If they succeed... if they can solve this cursed global warming... I could see my grandchildren grow. I could guide them. Keep them safe."
George felt the familiar ache in his chest—the one that came whenever he thought about his father. The man worked for the military on another continent, sending money but never presence. He'd wanted George to study accounting, to follow him into military service. But George's dreams had never aligned with his father's expectations. His heart belonged to painting, to creating beauty in a world that felt increasingly gray and desperate.
Without proper education or his father's support, George had cobbled together a life through odd jobs and determination. That's how he'd met Delvin—two aspiring artists finding solace in color and canvas, in dreams that didn't fit the mold.
"You see, Granny," George said softly, "I'm not stupid. I won't let myself be dragged into a job I have no interest in. I'll find my own way to survive."
Grandma Beatrice studied him for a long moment, her expression softening. "Do it soon, son." Her voice cracked slightly. "And try to live your best life possible."
The moment hung between them, tender and fragile—until a voice rang out from the entrance.
"Granny! I'm home!"
Brenda's cheerful announcement shattered the quiet like glass breaking.
Grandma Beatrice's face transformed instantly. Her spine straightened. Her eyes narrowed. The gentle woman from moments before vanished, replaced by the fierce matriarch George knew so well.
"Brenda!" The name came out like a whip crack. "Where have you been? You children are going to kill me with high blood pressure! Do you hear me? Kill me!"
George bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. The transformation had been so swift, so complete—she could have been an actress in another life.
But Brenda swept into the room unfazed, her energy bright and unbothered. She set her bag down with a deliberate calmness that spoke volumes.
"Relax, Granny." She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "The world has changed. People travel and work at night now—no one wants to be scorched by the sun during the day. I thought you'd know that by now." She paused for effect. "It's only at ZamCorp Base One where people still work during daylight."
Grandma Beatrice pounced on the opening like a cat on a mouse. "Speaking of which." Her voice dropped conspiratorially. "Your brother tells me that Delvin—'Delvin'—is now an employee at ZamCorp Base One. Can you believe that?"
She watched Brenda's face like a hawk, hungry for reaction.
Brenda's eyes widened. She turned to George, searching his expression for confirmation. "George... is that true?"
George let the moment stretch, savoring it. He smiled slowly, deliberately. "Have I ever lied?"
"Wow." Brenda's face lit up like sunrise. "Wow! This is incredible news! We should invite him over, celebrate properly. He's been through so much, Granny. And his results from Apex University were outstanding. I'm so happy for him."
"Apex University?" Grandma Beatrice's voice rose an octave. "That's one of the most prestigious universities in the Southern region!" She looked genuinely offended. "How did I not know this?"
Brenda's smile turned mischievous. "You never asked. Besides..." She shrugged gracefully. "Life can be full of surprises."