“So, like, what are you guys now?” Mari questions me on the way into school on Monday.
“I don’t know.” It comes out in a singsong voice that matches the cartoon birds that dressed me earlier.
“Well, you’ll find out after English.” She raises an eyebrow and gives me a wave, turning the corner in the direction of her class.
I worry my nerves into a network of knots during physics class wondering about Mari’s question. What are we? We texted all weekend, but what do I do when I see him? Do we hug? Do I play it cool? And my stress level only increases in English. Ms. Novak calls on me in the middle of a zone-out, then I’m so worried about leaving class at the right moment that I stumble over this girl Jordan’s backpack and nearly fall on my face. I make it to the hallway and search for Ryan without looking like I’m looking for him.
“Loukas!” a voice behind me calls out.
My body deflates a bit. I like how he calls me by my last name, but now it feels more like a buddy-pal kind of thing instead of a flirty thing.
“Hey,” I say, looking over at him when he catches up to me.
Someone jostles him, and he flies into me. He immediately jerks himself back, and I lose a little more air. As we walk together, I space out as I catalog each one of his movements and analyze the meaning. At the door of my calculus class, I catch the end of what he’s been saying.
“... it’s such a great movie.”
He’s stopped, and I turn to face him. He stares at me, so I say, “It is, totally.”
His eyes widen. “You’ve seen it? Wow, I don’t know anyone else who’s seen it.”
“Yeah, I really liked it,” I respond and pray he doesn’t ask me more. Thankfully the hallway empties, a clear sign of the impending bell. I turn to leave, but Ryan grabs my pinky and interlaces his hand with mine and says, “See you at lunch?”
I inflate to near-bursting. The cartoon birds return and carry me dazed into class where I proceed accidentally to sit in Joey Spieth’s seat.
The next few weeks follow this pattern. I wish away every minute of Physics and English so I can see Ryan. In the three minutes between classes, I find little ways to touch him without being too obvious. I know of at least eight girls in my classes who are in love with him, and I don’t want to cause a Mean Girls incident. Ryan also spends part of his lunch with us every day now, and I think even Mari enjoys it. Ryan has this energy that ignites everyone around him. Every moment with him sharpens my senses. Colors seem brighter, and even in the middle of winter, I can smell the approach of spring. I’m so emboldened by him, I sign up for another half-marathon this month even though I was going to train more and wait until spring break.
I don’t see Ryan too much outside of school because his basketball schedule is hectic, but we text all the time. Add to that all the back and forth with Callie and Hannah about Ryan, and it’s difficult to squeeze in time for homework and running.
I have managed to take time to figure out Grandma’s situation. After Grandma’s last spell, Rose and I took her to see the doctor even though it wasn’t yet time for her regular checkup. He suggested assisted living, but Grandma scoffed at that. She said she’s only seventy-five and not ready to be one of those old ladies in a home. So, the doctor suggested part-time help on a daily basis would help keep things more consistent. With his help, we argued our way with the caretaker service and got Grandma the same number of hours as before but spread out among all days. Cherise now comes from 8-1 every day, and I take the afternoon shift after school. It already seems to be helping. Grandma still forgets little things like where her book is or where she keeps the flour in the kitchen, and sometimes she confuses people’s names. But she’s much more energetic, and her strong opinions and bold presence seem to be reemerging.
I’m so confident about the situation at the house that a few weeks later, when we have a Friday without school, I’m not worried about leaving Grandma for a few hours in the afternoon. Mari has an ear appointment in downtown LA. She sees some world-renowned ear doctor at a clinic there. Her mom has missed so much work lately that she can’t take time off, so I offer to go with Mari. She tells me she’s fine to go on her own, but I haven’t seen downtown LA yet and convince her to let me tag along.
Los Angeles is not much different from Cincinnati. It’s a little bigger and somewhat dirtier, but it has all the same one-way streets with suits and locals streaming down sidewalks darkened by the office high-rises. The clinic is at the edge of the central cluster of buildings, and her appointment only takes an hour. Afterward, she insists on taking me on what she calls an underground food tour of LA.
Our first stop isn’t even a restaurant. It’s a cart by the side of the road in front of a museum. I think she’s joking, but she swears this will be the best hot dog I’ve ever eaten. The hands of the tiny woman behind the cart move in a blur as she prepares hot dogs for the small crowd surrounding her. A cloud of steam rises over her and pushes the sweet smell of sizzling peppers and onions all around us. I have to admit, I’m already hooked. When I get my hot dog, I see that under the pile of peppers and onions, the hot dog is wrapped in bacon. The first bite sends my taste buds into a frenzy as the perfect mix of sweet, salty, and spicy dances on my tongue and travels all the way to my stomach.
“I told you,” Mari gloats when we get back to the car, and I have to admit my assumption was way off.
This experience helps me reserve judgment at our next stop, a hole-in-the-wall pie shop. It literally looks like a hole carved into the side of an unmarked gray building. Bodies are jammed inside the small entryway, and Mari frowns. She’s annoyed other people have discovered her gem. The long line gives me ample time to review the menu. This is not just an apple-or-cherry kind of pie shop. There are at least twenty kinds of sweet and savory pies. We split a giant slice of macaroni-and-cheese pie and a Mexican chocolate pie. I’m nearly bursting out of my jeans after just the one slice.
When it’s down to the last bites of our chocolate pie, I ask, “How do you know about these places?”
Mari remains silent at first but finally says, “My dad used to take me to a new restaurant every week, but it could never be a chain restaurant. He always said that off the beaten path is where you’ll find the most interesting people and things.”
I nod and swallow my piece of pie. She’s never mentioned her dad. but since she brings it up, I ask, “Where... is your dad? You never talk about him.”
She scrapes at the plate with her fork. “He and my mom divorced three years ago. He has some new family in South Carolina, so we don’t hear from him.”
“I’m sorry.” I know it’s a lame thing to say even before the words finish tumbling out of my mouth, but it’s like a reflex. I suddenly have a better understanding of all those who have said it to me. “It must be hard for you and your mom,” I add in an attempt to say something more meaningful.
“Yeah, Mom’s headaches started after that. She cries a lot at night. She thinks I can’t hear, but I can. It’s gotten better, but she’s still sad.”
“What about you?”
She swallows a drink of water. “I don’t know. I guess I should be mad at him, but I just... I just miss him.” I pierce a stray macaroni with my fork. I know exactly how she feels. “After he left,” she goes on, “I tried to keep the restaurant thing going with my mom, but she wasn’t interested. My dad and I were the ones who had all the special traditions. So as soon as I got my license, I starting coming to LA in search of interesting people and things off the beaten path.”
“That’s cool,” I say.
“Kind of like what you’re doing.” She eats another leftover macaroni off the plate.
“Yeah.” It’s clear now why it’s been so easy to be friends with Mari.
She pushes the chocolate pie plate away, and I check my phone. It’s 4:00 p.m. I really need to get home, and we still have to swing by the packet pickup for my race tomorrow. Grandma has been alone for three hours already, and while I’m sure she’s fine, I should get back. I tell Mari, and we head out the door.
“Hey Grandma,” I call in the house as I walk inside. I expect to see her sitting in her armchair reading, but she’s not there. The house smells like garlic and spices, so I continue into the kitchen to see what she’s cooking. She’s not there either. Bowls and measuring cups and food are strewn all over the counter. Piles of diced garlic and chopped onions wait on a cutting board with a knife resting right next to it. The pantry door is open, and a raw chicken sits in the sink.
Maybe she’s just in the bathroom. I walk to her room and peek in, but there’s no sign of her. I step inside and the bathroom door is wide open and it’s dark inside. My heartbeat quickens, and I feel dizzy. I walk back to the living room and try to focus. That’s it. Maybe she’s out back cutting some fresh herbs.
I sprint to the back, but she’s not there either. I walk in circles around the patio, short of breath and light-headed. Where could she be? The car is in the driveway, so thankfully she hasn’t driven somewhere. Maybe Cherise is still here, and they went on an errand, something for the dinner. I dart inside and check the hall closet for Cherise’s bag, but it’s not there. She never takes more than her purse when she goes out with Grandma.
“Grandma?” I cry out as I race up and down the hall. I’m sweating and my pounding heart forces me to sit for a moment in the living room. But I’m up almost instantly, pacing back and forth. Where could she be? What do I do? These thoughts play in my mind on repeat. I am in full panic mode.
I run through the house one more time, as if I somehow missed her. But she’s not in any of the rooms. I check out back again, and this time I also look in the garage. I’ve circled the house twice, and there’s no sign of her. Before I consciously know what I’m doing, my fingers are texting Ryan. I tell him my grandma is missing and I’m freaking out and what do I do?
There is no response, and I figure he’s busy. I circle the house one more time because I can’t think clearly. I can only keep moving. When I emerge from the side of the house, Ryan’s Jeep is in the driveway and he’s sprinting to the front porch.
“Ryan!” It’s more of an exhale of relief than an acknowledgment of his presence.
He rushes over and wraps his arms around me.
“I came home from downtown with Mari, and she wasn’t here. I’ve looked everywhere. She’s not here. I don’t know where she is.” I let it all spill out into his shoulder.
He lets go but holds my hands. “It’s okay. We’ll find her.” He pauses then says, “Could she have driven anywhere?”
“No. The car is here.” I point to it out on the street.
“Okay, could she be with her friends?”
“No. She always leaves a note. They would never take her anywhere and not leave a note for me. Plus, it looks like she was in the middle of cooking.” I motion for him to come inside. I toss my phone on the armchair and lead him to the kitchen like I’m showing him a crime scene. “See?”
He scans the room and lines of worry appear on his face.
I read them. “I know, right? It’s weird.”
His nose crinkles. “Could the nurse have taken her somewhere?” he suggests.
I shake my head forcefully. “No. Her stuff isn’t here. She’d never take all her stuff with her to run an errand. Plus, they wouldn’t go without leaving a note.”
“Maybe it was just for something quick, and they figured they’d be back before you came home. Same with her friends.” He raises his shoulders in a half shrug.
“No!” I’m even more adamant. “We’ve been through too much. Grandma would never go somewhere without leaving a note.”
The uncertainty of the situation sends my mind stumbling into all sorts of scenarios. “What if she was taken? What if someone came to rob the house and kidnapped her? Or killed her?” My voice rises with each thought.
Ryan leads me to the living room and sits me down. But I pop back up. “Or what if she’s wandering around somewhere? We have to do something.”
Something I’ve said turns a switch in Ryan’s mind and it shows in his eyes. “I know, I’ll start walking the neighborhood to find someone who might have seen her, and you stay here and call your grandma’s friends.”
“Okay, yeah. That’s good.” I grab my phone and walk out to the porch with him. I follow Ryan to the street so I can see where he’s going. Then I call Rose first. She’s not home, so I leave a message for her. I lower the phone, and my hand freezes. I don’t know any of Grandma’s other friends’ numbers. I consider calling 911 but decide to wait.
Instead, I race after Ryan. He turned the corner, and I can no longer see him. I catch up to him, and he shrugs, saying he hasn’t seen anyone outside to talk to. He asks if I know which neighbors Grandma is friendly with, but I don’t. We turn around and walk back down Grandma’s street on the opposite side. Ryan asks a man watering his plants if he’s seen my grandma or an older lady walking around, but he hasn’t. We continue around the corner and up the next street, both of our eyes searching every inch of the neighborhood.
Sweat pours down my back, and my heart still pounds. Maybe we should call the police. I open my mouth to suggest this, but my voice freezes when I see a dark-haired woman sitting in a chair in the front lawn of a one-story house that looks like Grandma’s. I halt and blink hard to make sure I’m not hallucinating. I’m not. It’s Grandma.
I race across the street and slow when I reach the tiny white gate. Grandma sits in someone’s white lawn chair, tears streaming down her face.
“Grandma!” I rush over to her.
She doesn’t say anything but clutches me as I lean down to hug her. Her body trembles.
“Grandma, are you okay?” I let go and hold her by the shoulders.
She nods, but doesn’t speak. “Are you hurt?” I scan her from head to toe.
“No.” Her tiny voice squeaks. She looks so old in this moment.
“Grandma, what happened?” I kneel in front of her while also peering through the window behind her. It doesn’t appear that anyone is home at this house.
She sniffles a little, and I hold and rub her hands to help her calm down.
“I don’t know,” she says with closed eyes. “I don’t know.”
I rub her back. “It’s okay. I’m here now.” Suddenly a queasiness replaces the fear inside me. The hot dog and pie churn in my stomach as reminders that I left her alone and this is all my fault.
Ryan approaches slowly, and I ask, “Hey, can you help me get her home?”
“Of course.”
“Grandma, we’re going to go home now, okay? Will you let us walk you home?” I pause. “This is Ryan,” I say, unsure if she remembers.
Her eyes blink in recognition. I rise and gently lift her arm. Ryan steps in, and we slowly ease her out of the chair and walk her out to the sidewalk. We take it slowly, and she lets Ryan hold her arm as I rub her back. Eventually she calms down enough to tell us what happened. She was out of breadcrumbs and needed to go to the store. She forgot she didn’t drive until she was out to the driveway, and then she forgot why she was standing there. She checked the mailbox—thinking that was it—but got herself turned around and couldn’t find the house. So she wandered around until she found a house that had chairs like hers. The door was locked and she didn’t have a key, so she just sat outside. Slowly she realized it wasn’t her house, but she didn’t know where she was.
We get her back home, and she lies down for a nap. Ryan helps me clean the kitchen, and I can’t stop shaking my head as I return some spice jars to the pantry.
“What?” he asks. “You’re shaking your head.”
“I don’t get it.” I close the pantry door and face him. “We saw the doctor and got her the nurse on a consistent basis. I made a plan to fix it, and everything was going fine. But it still wasn’t enough.”
“You know, I found out my great aunt had dementia. My mom said a lot of the same things happened to her. You can’t control it. It’s sort of like life, I guess.”
I shrug. “Maybe you’re right. But still, I let her down. Either my plan wasn’t good enough or it’s that I wasn’t here.”
Ryan pulls me in for a hug. “Don’t beat yourself up. It’s fine, and she’s okay.”
I allow him to console me for a moment, then I release and walk to the counter to clean up the cutting board.
“Now this guy,” Ryan says. I look over, and he’s holding the chicken. “This guy is definitely not fine. He’s a goner.” He waves a chicken leg at me, and a little light breaks through all my guilt and worry and sadness.
When the kitchen is clean, we sit on the couch and tomorrow’s race crashes into my thoughts.
Ryan reads the wince on my face. “What’s wrong?”
“I have a half-marathon tomorrow.” I bury my hands in my head.
“Don’t run.”
“I have to,” I say to the floor.
“What do you mean you have to? Just skip it.”
I sigh and raise my head. “I can’t skip it.”
“Why not?” His eyebrows furrow.
I’m so tired that I don’t even have the energy to lie. “I can’t skip it because I’m trying to run my mom’s last four half-marathons to complete her goal of fifty half-marathons by the time she’s fifty. She would have turned fifty on June third.”
“So that’s what the running is all about,” he says.
“Yep.”
“You know, I never bought the ‘I want a challenge’ reason.” He shakes his head at me.
“I know. I’m sorry I lied. It’s just that I haven’t told anyone. Well, Mari, but no one else. Not even my grandma knows. It’s like I wanted it to be a secret between my mom and me.”
He nods. “I get it.”
“There’s more.” I just want to get it all out, so I proceed to tell him all about my dad’s dream to take us to his childhood home in Corfu and Connor’s dream to attend Ohio State. I explain the job and my obsession over the OSU application and tell him all about the moment I decided to do all of this.
When I’m done, I lean back on the couch. I feel like some of the rocks in my pockets that have been pulling me underwater have disappeared, like I’ve gotten a little gasp of fresh air. Ryan pulls me into him, and his strong arms draw me in. In this moment, it’s as if everything that’s been tugging at me has let go. Everything is still, and I feel safe. But this idea of safety also sends my thoughts drifting back to Grandma.
“It doesn’t matter anyway about the race.” I break the silence. “Because I can’t leave Grandma tomorrow. Even with Cherise coming in the morning, I should be here with her.”
“I’ll come and check on her if you want. I don’t have practice until the afternoon. I could play a few games with her on the iPad.” I look at him, and he winks. I smile and continue to stare into the blue eyes of this perfect boy who would play games with my grandma. He leans over and kisses me gently on the lips. My head falls onto his chest, and we stay this way for a while.
Eventually Ryan sits up, bringing me with him. “Why don’t you take a shower to help you relax, and I’ll get some food. I’ll get that Italian takeout your grandma likes so if she wakes up, she can eat with us.”
I notice the time on the cable box. “It’s 7:00 p.m. already? Ugh, you should go. I’ve taken too much of your time. I’m sorry.”
“Not at all, Loukas. I love being here.” He smiles at me. “Even for things like this. Especially for things like this.” He stands and pulls me up. “Trust me. Take a shower, and I’ll be right back.” He leans down and kisses me again, this one lasting a little longer. And even after he leaves, the soft touch of his lips on mine and the warmth of his arms wrapped around me lingers, keeping the heaviness at bay at least for a little longer.