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“Nope. I’m teachingyouto cook.”
41
Jace
Under heavy supervision, I manage to make dinner for the both of us. Not only is it edible, but it’s actuallygood.
Afterward, I play ball in the backyard while Harlow sits in my van, scrolling through Pinterest for pictures of how to “spruce up” the back. I don’t need it “spruced”—whatever that means—but Harlow has ideas, which leads to plans to drive into Fremont on Saturday to go shopping.
I agree, only because it means I get to spend more time with her. After an hour or so, I make the excuse to go home and shower, but really, I need to check on my grandpa. He’s asleep on the couch when I get home, and so I wake him gently, shaking his shoulder. His eyes open, a gasp leaving him. “It’s just me, Grandpa. Do you need help getting to bed?”
His smile is lopsided, and it’s clear he’s onlyhalfdrunk, which is getting more and more rare for him. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” I help him to his feet, then into bed.
He covers my hand with his, aged and wrinkled and forever shaking now. “You take good care of me, Jace.”
“You take care of me too,” I tell him. “Did you have dinner?” I’d made a plate of leftovers and told Harlow why. She didn’t ask questions, just loaded the plate even more. I’m almost certain she’s met my grandpa at his worst, but she hasn’t brought it up, and I appreciate her for that.
“I had a late lunch, so I’m not hungry,” he answers.
“Okay, Grandpa.” I pull the covers up to his chin and leave his bathroom door ajar before flicking on the light in there. Even a man like him needs light in the darkness. “I’m going to be out late, but your phone’s charging on your nightstand. Just call me if you need me, okay?”
“Okay, son.”
I’m already at his door when he calls my name, and so I turn to him. “What do you need?”
“Nothing. Just wanted to say I love you.”
“I love you too, Grandpa,” I tell him, watching him a moment as his eyes drift shut, his chest rising and falling with his calm breaths. I hope he finds peace there, in his slumber, where his dreams are far removed from his reality.
Carefully, and as quietly as possible, I close the door between us, then run up to my room, take a quick shower, and head back to Harlow’s. She’s left the front door openagain, and I remind her of it the second I step into her room.
“You were gone ten minutes,” she says, waving me off with a flick of her wrist.
I slip off my shoes, replying, “I don’t care. Lock the door.”
She slides onto the bed, dressed in her sleep clothes, and uses the remote to turn on the television. “But that would mean going downstairs when you knock, opening the door for you, then comingallthe way back up. I should just give you a spare key.”
I get on the bed beside her and lift my arm, wait until she’s nuzzled in close to say, “I have a key.” Technically, Iownthe house, and I don’t know how my grandpa, in all his drunken glory, managed to get it listed for rent, but since it got me Harlow, I’m not complaining.
Harlow doesn’t physically react to my statement, just lets out a yawn before hitting play onHe Got Game. She says, shifting to get more comfortable, “I’ll lock the door next time, if you use your key.”
“Deal.”
Harlow’s stayed still in my arms during most of the movie, so I assume she’s fallen asleep. As the credits roll, I stare up at the ceiling—the same ceiling I used to stare at as a kid. Mindlessly, I twirl a loose strand of her hair between my fingers, marveling at how soft it is. Harlow sighs, and I lift my head off the pillow.
“You sleepin’?” I whisper, and she shakes her head against my chest.
“No.”
I relish in the silence a moment, in the way her body feels pressed against mine, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so weightless before. So free. So… part of something bigger and better than myself. Sure, I have basketball and my team, but I know that’s not forever, and I realize now that whatever I’m feeling—Iwantit to be forever. I wonder if she feels the same.
“Harlow?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet.”