by Liz Hsu
She eyed my cheeks, which looked okay but were a little puffier than they ever were when I lived here, thanks to the steroids I’d just finished. I still felt like a chipmunk some days. It took everything I had not to scratch my rapidly re-growing bald spot—it itched all the time—under her scrutiny. I was skinnier than when I lived here, after being hospitalized twice in five months. Yoga, and most of my friends being guys who ate all the time, had helped me gain some muscle and weight back, but I was aware I wasn’t the girl I was six months ago. I wasn’t her in so many ways.
I must have passed her test, because she nodded and finally said, “We miss you here. I just want you to know that. We haven’t forgotten about you.” She put my plate down. “Now, let’s pray. Girls, Matthew, hold hands.” We took hands and bowed our heads like we did before every meal in this house, and Mom led us in prayer. “Our Jesus Christ, our savior, thank you for this food for the nourishment of our bodies. Thank you for bringing Rayanne home safely and deliver us from evil. In Jesus’s name, we pray; amen.”
“Amen,” we echoed. The food tasted like home. She gave my siblings some cookies as I ate, and their happy voices rang through the kitchen.
When we ran around, fighting over four of us needing one bathroom to get dressed in our Sunday finest on Thanksgiving before going to my grandparents’ house, it felt like I’d never left. Granny Young was on her best behavior, too, especially after I told her all about my church, choir, and youth group in Michigan.
After lunch, I stepped outside into the South Georgia sun. It could be cold on Thanksgiving, but this year was a warmer one. The seventy-degree day felt almost like summer. I knew I couldn’t get too much sun anymore, but I hadn’t turned into a vampire since getting diagnosed with lupus. I still missed the feeling of the sun on my skin, so I’d stay out at least for a few minutes.
I pulled out my phone and video-called Charles. When his face popped up, it made my heart hurt with how much he’d come to mean to me. “Are you wearing a sleeveless dress?”
I smiled. “Uh-huh. Jealous?”
“Yes. It’s supposed to snow tomorrow.”
“I’ll be back freezing with you soon enough, don’t worry. Until then, happy Thanksgiving! Tell me one thing you’re thankful for.”
He smiled, and then his face turned serious. “Ray, the thing I’m most thankful for is you moving to Michigan. It’s quiet and lonely without you here.”
“Are you saying I talk too much?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You? Never.”
I giggled. I couldn’t help it. He made me feel a certain way—giddy. We talked for a few minutes. Then he sighed, looking tired. He was worried about his grandmother and his parents’ finance. It was a lot to deal with.
“I miss you, Charles. I just saw you, and I miss you,” I admitted.
“I miss you too, Ray. But go back to your Thanksgiving and family. You’ll be here soon but won’t see them for a while. Will you call me before you go to sleep?”
“Sure,” I said as he waved and hung up.
I tried to soak up the sun for a few more minutes before I went back inside for dessert. Nothing in the world felt like the sun warming your skin, I realized with a twinge in my chest. But I was alive. I was doing well. Find joy in what you can, not can do, I told myself. With a sigh, I went back inside for dessert and more bonding.
We didn’t stay at my grandma’s too much longer, just long enough for me to help hand-wash the fine china and silver, which was good, since I was nearly in a food coma. I napped on the drive home in the back of our minivan. When we were almost back, the shrieks of my siblings fighting over the iPad woke me up, and I messaged Jeffery.
I changed into some cut-offs and a baggy sweatshirt before I headed down to the dock on my bike. When I got there, I strode out to the edge of the pier and sat enjoying the last rays of sun with my legs dangling over the edge. I missed the sun. No matter what it did to me, it was the sun. I leaned back and soaked in a few late afternoon rays as the tangy scent of the marsh hit my nose. Home. I heard as much as felt Jeffery’s lumbering frame on the creaky wood as he sat beside me with a thud.
After a minute, I whispered, “I miss this and you.”
“But you ain’t coming back.” His voice was low.
I opened my eyes and turned to him. “Everything’s been moving while I’ve been away. I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”
“That’s life, Ray Ray. It keeps rolling along, ebbing with the tides. Isn’t there a poem or somethin’ about how life is change?”
I loved that quote and couldn’t control my grin. “Heraclitus, ‘The only constant in life is change.’ No, I don’t think I’m coming back, even though I miss you. I miss you so much, Jeff.”
He looked at me with those familiar umber eyes locked with mine in time and understanding. “I miss you too.” He shrugged and peered down into the marsh, dropping my gaze. He continued softer and more reluctantly, “I miss you somethin’ terrible. But I’m glad you left.” He glanced back up and said more firmly, “You’re my best friend. I love you, Rayanne—as a friend. I’d give up anything to make you well.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You might have a bald spot, but you’re alive and kick’n. You never complained much, but I knew you weren’t right. At least, you weren’t right your last few months here. Michigan is good for you. You don’t belong here. You belong there.” His brow furrowed, making him look more somber.
“Jeff—”
He squeezed me into him, engulfing me in his massive frame, smelling like sweat and brine—and Jeff.
“Shut that cute mouth. Don’t. You’ll always be my girl. I know I’ll always be your fellah. Your Jeff. Bonnie and Clyde, member? Even if you’re a prissy Yank now going all Heraclitus on me.”
I bumped his shoulder and pulled away. “I do love you and miss you.”
He ruffled my hair with his big hand. “I know you do.”
We turned to watch the ocean and the marsh. The tide was out, exposing the reeds as herons and egrets hunted for the last crab or fish of the day before flying to roost. Eventually the birds all flew home, and the last rays of the day drifted down and colored the sky a brilliant red and purple before indigo faded into black. The Big Dipper and the North Star shone low on the horizon.
We faded into silence, like the day, and I thought about how much I liked Michigan and would ask Dad to finish high school there when I got back. But this would always be home, and it was comforting in its own way.
I didn’t want to end the evening. This time, I understood Dad’s comments about Mom. She hadn’t always done right by me, and certainly not by him, but she’d still been a kid when she had me. Dad was right: I didn’t want to hate my mom either.
We sat there till the no-see-ums had us both scratching too bad to enjoy the evening a second longer, and in unison, we peeked at each other, chuckled, and stood.
“Can we ride a little more?” I asked.
“We sure can,” Jeffery responded, and we rode our bikes through the quiet streets with Spanish moss hanging eerily from the big oaks lit by the glow of street lamps. We pedaled from one end of the island to another until we were both sweating and laughing and feeling like kids again.
I missed this and Jeff, but not enough to move back. Not even for him. I was glad he understood, and was moving on just fine without me living nearby. Still, I was determined to enjoy this short trip. If things went well with my discussion with Dad, I didn’t know when I’d be back.
Like magic, my rash reappeared on my wrist as I showered that night, and I hesitated a moment before calling Charles. That selfish part of me wanted to pray and hope he didn’t get into Caltech, but I pushed it away as I reached for the phone, bright smile ready for a video-chat. I loved him. If he wanted Caltech, which I knew he had his whole life, I’d be a pickle to stand in his way. That wasn’t love, even though the thought hurt
like H-E-double-hockey-sticks.
I was flipping through Michigan’s robotics engineering pages on my phone and sipping a pop in the back of the McDonald’s, waiting for the text that Ray’s flight had landed.
Would the University of Michigan be so bad?
I’d convinced her and her dad to let me get her, and was trying to pass the time now. But my swirling thoughts made it hard to concentrate.
My phone’s ding had me rushing to go to the bathroom and back outside to pull the car around to the arrivals. I turned up the heat to seventy-eight but didn’t blast it as the car warmed up. Ray’d be cold. Probably because her only body fat right now was in her boobs. She’d always been thin, like her dad, but after her hospitalization, you could see her ribs under her collarbone. I could feel her sharp hip bones when we kissed. Everyone was trying to help her gain some weight back so she’d be a little healthier, but until she did, she was always freezing.
The terminal was packed, and between my inching forward and her deplaning, we arrived at the curb at the same time. I jumped out and briefly hugged her as we settled the bags into the car and hurried to get in before the honking started.
I risked a quick glance at her. I needed to just bite the bullet and talk. “Ray, I, um—I got into Caltech.”
She was silent for a moment, and I thought she didn’t hear me. Then she said with false cheer, “Charles! Happy Thanksgiving, indeed. You’re going, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know. We are going to move Wàipó here over winter break.” My heart seemed to skip a beat with how much I just… “I don’t know,” I repeated.
“Charles, your parents have saved up their whole lives to send you there. I’m sure they can handle both.”
“Maybe,” I said, but I wasn’t sure. I’d heard the worry in Ma’s voice, and I’d looked up how much home healthcare options were. They’d hired a contractor, too. He was fixing the downstairs bathroom so it was more handicap accessible. None of that was cheap.
She went silent again. “I want what’s best for you. You’ll hate me if you don’t go to Caltech because of me.”
“Ray—”
“You have worked hard your whole life. I don’t want a few months with me to blow it for you.”
Her words cut into me. I felt like I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs at the thought of not only losing her as my girlfriend, but her being gone—out of my life. I thought of my cold, sterile life before she’d invaded it. It was like one of her drawings for art class, where everything was shades of gray except for one section of color. I’d felt lifeless until she moved here.
I pulled off the highway at the next exit and into the first gas station I saw. Then I turned to look at her and said, “I love you. No matter what happens, I want you to know that.”
This wasn’t how I’d imagined saying it, but I’d known since I kissed her at Niagara Falls. I surely had recognized it when I saw her in the hospital.
The look she gave me crushed my heart. “I love you too, Charles. That’s why I’m going to say this. You have to pick Caltech.”
“Don’t…” I didn’t have words. Instead, I pulled her to me. I was grateful she didn’t resist and seemed to need to touch me as much as I needed to touch her. The kiss we shared was slow, sensual, her tears dripping onto my hands as I held her face and my tears dripping onto hers.
Finally, I rested my forehead against hers and whispered, “I just need time to think.” Her hand cupped my jaw, and I held her firm. “Michigan is a good choice, though. I promise. Ray, it’s hard, and I don’t know what to do. But maybe I want to live here with Wàipó a few more years, too. If I’m so far away, she might forget me. I don’t want my parents to refinance their house. And no, I don’t want to leave you either.”
I pulled back and was lost in the ocean of her eyes. She tugged me to her, and I got lost in her lips and touch. I’d never wanted anything like I wanted her. But I’d wanted Caltech my whole life.
What was the right thing for my family?
My stomach suddenly felt icier than the road outside.
Ray pulled back. “I love you. And because I do, I want you to go.”
“I don’t know anything anymore. But when I do, you’ll be the first to know,” I said, losing myself in her eyes.
Her phone started dinging. I gave her one more kiss, then pulled us back onto the road. We kept our fingers threaded, but my heart was heavy.
The next weekend, as we pulled into Soraya’s complex in Chicago, I drew in a breath and blurted out, “Can I finish high school with you?”
Dad blinked. “What did you say?”
I looked down at the mittens I was trying to put on. “We haven’t talked about how long I was staying with you. I thought about it over Thanksgiving break. I want to keep living with you.” Even if Charles left in the fall.
“Sweetheart,” he said softly. “I thought you knew I wanted you to finish high school here. And if you get into U of M, of course you can stay with me. I didn’t think I needed to say it. While your health is stable, you still have to follow-up with your doctors. Your bloodwork shows the lupus is still active. Plus, I like having you live with me. I thought that was obvious.”
“You’ve done so much for me. Thank you.” I looked up to meet his gaze, his gold-flecked blue eyes so much like mine. “I haven’t said it enough, but thank you.”
He pulled me into a hug. “I didn’t think I had to tell you, but I will. I want you to live with me. Everything I’ve done since you got here, I’d do again.” We looked at each other for a long time. “Come on. It’ll be freezing in here in a second, and I’m starving. Let’s not keep Soraya waiting.”
I nodded, and we headed up to her place. It was late for us to eat dinner, but only eight here with the time change. Soraya barreled into me first, giving me her trademark tight, enthusiastic squeeze. I hugged her back. She’d been up to see Dad several times since we’d met, and I’d come to enjoy her company. She’d even come to see me in the hospital both weekends I was there.
She gave my dad a quick kiss and forced us out of our coats and to the table, where she had a ton of food out. “I know you guys are likely starving with it being so late.”
“I’m famished,” Dad said.
“Right, well let me tell Ray what it all is.” She started pointing to the various dishes. “Fattoush Salad, I remember you said you enjoyed that in Dearborn. The Persian version is even better,” she teased. “Kashke bademjan,” she indicated to a purplish dip, “with fresh store bought pita, so much better than what I bake.” She winked at that. “Saffron rice, mint leaves, walnuts, and feta, all the givens. And three kabobs, chicken, lamb, and beef.”
“Wow, it looks amazing. I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble,” I told her. It really was so much food.
“No, I actually love it. Maybe I’m turning into my mamani, grandma, that is. I’m part of the Persian community here in Chicago, as are my parents, but I normally just have time to go to events a few times a year, like Persian New Year. So, I make things here and there. But to cook and eat it all together, how it’s best?”
She paused and shook her head, and healthy mane of hair, to her rhetoric questions dramatically.
“Not everyday. So thank you guys. Plus, most taste fine the next few days. Now enjoy, that’s the best thanks.”
We dug in and spices and tantalizing flavors exploded in my mouth.
“Ummm, Soraya,” Dad moaned. “We are making time to buy those spices you are always hunting for in the pantry for next time you visit.”
She laughed.
“It’s seriously amazing. Thank you,” I agreed with Dad.
“I’m enjoying it, too.” Soraya’s eyes sparkled as she asked, “So, have you figured out why I got the Selena Gomez tickets yet?”
I froze, fork halfway to my mouth, and shook my head no. I’d listened to mor
e of her songs, but I hadn’t heard anything that might indicate why she’d gotten them. I was still excited—it would be my first big concert.
Disappointment flashed across her face. “She has lupus, too. And look at everything she can do and is doing. I thought you’d want to see her.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “You should watch her Today Show interview where she talks about her kidney transplant. She’s like you, Ray—what a brave young lady. Neither of you let that disease get you down, even though I know it must be hard some days.”
I felt my cheeks heat. Most days, I didn’t feel brave. Most days, I just tried to survive without everyone knowing I was different.
“Thank you.”
“Of course! When I heard the concert was the same weekend as your dad’s talk tomorrow, well—it just seemed too perfect. Tomorrow we get the whole day together. Do you want to go to the Chicago Art Institute in the morning? We can shop at Nordstrom on Michigan Avenue afterward. Make it a fun girls’ day?”
“It sounds wonderful.” Her enthusiasm was contagious, and even Dad was smiling.
The next morning, Dad was already gone when I went into the kitchen and ate toast and a pear with Soraya. We bundled up in a million and ten layers to take the train from her condo between downtown and Northwestern. We arrived at the Art Institute just after it opened, glad to get out of the icy December breeze coming off the lake. After checking our coats, loaded with winter accessories, we wandered for hours.
It was one of the best museums I’d ever been to. A few times, I couldn’t resist standing in awe in front of a piece until Soraya probed me with deep, intellectual questions about it. I would never tell Dad, but she was even better to have at a museum than he was. She promised when it warmed up to have us down for the architecture tour. I told her all about my savings and plan to attend the architecture camp this summer.