It was the early spring of 2021, and we were just a few minutes into our weekly Face-Time when my grandmother announced it: She had a new beau, and that beau had met Joe Biden. In fact, here was a photo of him shaking hands with the president. His name, she said, was Bram.
I wanted to be happy for her, but even then, at the start, something just felt wrong.
Before I go any further, you should get to know the matriarch of my family. Her dazzling style (see: high heels, formfitting black leggings, silky shirts, and gold bangles) puts mine to shame. Ditto for her pre-COVID-19 social calendar, marked with dinners, party invitations, and trips. Despite all this, I’ve long suspected that she, a single woman well into…
