“He spent the whole morning out here with me,” Grandpa beams with pride. “I just read my book and Charlie come out and walk around the room.”
“That’s fantastic, Grandpa. He looks really . . . happy.”
I extend my finger in front of Charlie, but he’s busy with the cookie and he moves away from me a little to continue his cookie crumb grazing.
“It takes some time. We start this way.” Grandpa, the bird whisperer. “Now you need to go get ready.”
“I’m going to take a quick run first. I won’t be too long. Maybe thirty minutes to an hour.”
“We will be late!” He looks stricken.
“No, we’ll be fine. It takes me fifteen minutes to shower and dress. And Dad’s office is only a ten-minute drive away.”
“But you must eat!”
“I just ate that cookie and I’ll grab a banana or some fruit after I run.”
“This is no good. No wonder you’re so tinny.” Then he perks up. “Okay, you go run and Charlie and I will read together until you get back.”
I’m sore from my last run but after about ten minutes I don’t feel it anymore. Why haven’t I done this before? I can’t completely explain the feeling but I suppose it’s something like this—I’m making myself stronger to prepare for . . . life? The loop around my neighborhood goes by in a flash and then I’m down the hill and already to the turn-around tree before I know it. This time I jog nearly all the way up the hill before I have to stop to walk. When I get to the top, I still have enough energy to do a half-loop cool-down. I’m sweating profusely by the time I pass the Sullivans’ house.
Rachel’s standing in her front yard watering some plants with the garden hose. Henry is on her back in a carrier with a little sun shade canopy. When I run by, she points the nozzle of the hose up into the air and water arcs over the sidewalk, reflecting the spectrum of light and forming a rainbow bridge. A hummingbird darts through its mist and disappears into a blossoming bush. I run under the arch of cool spray before Rachel turns the hose back to her garden.
“Did you have a cookie?” she calls after me.
“Yes. Yummy. Thanks, Rachel!” It feels so good to have her back in my life.
Chapter | 18
I don’t think I’ve ever sat in my father’s waiting room as a patient before. It’s a surreal experience. I ring the bell at the counter and the window slides open to reveal Marie.
“Oh, hi Krista. Glad you guys are here early. Could you give these forms to your grandfather and ask him to fill them out please?”
I take the forms back to my grandfather knowing that I’ll probably be filling them out for him. A few other patients are waiting—an older man and his wife, probably around my grandfather’s age, and a young woman who’s lost in a celebrity gossip magazine.
“We’re actually running a few minutes behind, so don’t rush.” Marie slides the frosted glass window shut, leaving the five of us to politely ignore each other in the waiting room.
“You write for me, please,” my grandfather says when he sees the forms. “My handwriting is not so good.”
I fill in the basic information that I know and then begin to whisper the remaining questions to him. But my grandpa can’t hear the whispering and asks me to speak louder. I’m a little embarrassed by the proximity of strangers in the waiting room, and, directing a look at the young woman beside us, I ask him if he wants to go out in the hallway. He looks confused for a minute as he follows my gaze to the woman, but once he gets my meaning, he speaks out loud, without lowering the volume of his voice.
“No. We stay here. I don’t want to miss if Marie calls for me and I’m not here. This nice young lady cares nothing about my business.”
A warm flush springs to my cheeks as a smile creeps across the woman’s face.
We go through the height and weight—neither of which I can translate from metric, so I just leave them blank. Then we get to the health history and I read out a series of afflictions, all of which he answers “No” to. The door to the inner office opens and a man in a business suit exits. My father’s nurse, Stella, follows him out and calls the older couple by name. The woman stands with difficulty—her husband holds her arm as she shuffles through the doorway.
“How are you today?” Stella greets them brightly. “Do you need a wheelchair?”
My grandfather and I go back to the forms.
“What symptoms bring you here today?” I read.
“I tell you . . . I am peel and very tired.” My grandfather seems to talk to the form itself, and is annoyed by its silly questions. Shouldn’t it know what brings him here today?
“Is there anything else you want to add that we haven’t asked about today?”
He pauses to consider this and then answers in a firm voice that seems to reverberate around the room and boomerangs back to us.
“Hemorrhoids,” he says almost proudly. “I get the hemorrhoids sometime when I strain for my bowel movement.”
The woman beside us is still staring at the gossip magazine. She unsuccessfully tries to suppress another smile, but the result is that her lips twist into a demonic sneer. I feel a ridiculous urge to take a stand of some sort on my grandfather’s behalf.
“Do you know how to spell this word?” He seems concerned that my inability to spell it will throw off his entire diagnosis.
Stella appears in the doorway and summons the young woman with the gossip magazine.
“That’s okay, Grandpa, I’m pretty sure I have it right.” Even though I seriously have no idea.
__________
It’s a long time before Grandpa emerges from my father’s inner office. I never have to wait to see the doctor and now I know what other people go through. I’m also much more nervous than I thought I’d be about what the news will be. Grandpa emerges with a fistful of lab slips and Marie slides the window open to talk to us.
“Krista, can you get him over to the lab right now and take care of these tests? I’ve made a rush notation so hopefully we can get some of the results back before closing today.”
Marie hands me a slip of paper with a to-do list from my father. It includes a stop at the post office to drop off some packages and a shopping list for the grocery store. There are other less important tasks which I can probably put off until tomorrow.
By the time we’re done with the lab tests, my grandfather is exhausted and wants to go home. He goes straight to his room, and when I knock lightly on his door a few minutes later, there’s no answer. I crack the door open and peek inside—Grandpa’s sound asleep and Charlie is standing on the bed cover by his feet. This will be a good time to run to the grocery store and post office, so I jot down a note for him and leave it by his bedside table. My phone vibrates in my purse and I close my grandpa’s door behind me before checking the message.
It’s from Chad:
You never told me if it’s okay if I stop by tonight.
I text back with apologies—busy and all that.
Of course, you can stop by anytime (you don’t need permission) and I can’t wait to see your surprise.
Back in the Hornet on my way to do errands, I realize it’s almost three o’clock. I haven’t thought about 758 or its occupant once today.
But I do now.
Chapter | 19
Almost as if external forces are conspiring, I run into Jake again. Well, not really run into, but I catch a glimpse of him pushing a shopping cart in an aisle that I’m walking by. We live in a smallish town, so it’s possible Jake’s path has crossed mine on other occasions before we knew each other. But unlike our small town, this supermarket is huge, so I think I can avoid him if I hurry and get out of here. He’s wearing a red shirt which makes him easy to spot out of the corner of my eye if I need to pretend I don’t see him.
But today, fate has it that we both round the corner of the same aisl
e at the same time. There’s no way to turn back without looking like idiots, so we play a game of chicken, both of us pushing our cart forward to the ultimate place where we’ll meet.
“Hey,” he says when we finally meet. “What’s up? How’re you doing?”
His smile is so natural I almost believe he’s happy to see me.
“I’m doing good,” I say. “Busy. How’s your summer going?”
“I’m busy too—work, practice. I got out to Santa Cruz last weekend and did some surfing.” I wonder if he does the shopping for his family like I do for mine.
The summer is changing him. Even though it hasn’t been that long, he seems leaner, his skin darker, his thick, wavy hair longer and lighter. I notice for the first time his eyes are minty green.
“Good. That sounds like fun.” My words sound stupid and insipid to me, which makes me wonder what they sound like to Jake.
“Hey, you still living in that tent on the roof?” His grin forces the dimples just where I remember them.
“Yeah, I am.” I truly want to spare him from any more small talk. I’m positive he can’t wait to get away. “Well, I guess I better get going.”
“Okay, see you around. Take care.”
I decide a weak smile is a safer answer than anything I could possibly say.
Jake stops to investigate the toothpaste but I can’t even remember why I came down this aisle and decide to leave without consulting the rest of the list. I can always come back tomorrow. I make a beeline for the checkout.
While I’m standing in line, I pick up the same celebrity gossip magazine the woman was reading in my father’s office. A story on the cover caught my attention earlier today. I thumb through the pages looking for the article when I suddenly feel queasy like I can’t trust the ground under my feet. Then I hear a kind of rumbling, and within a few seconds everything is shaking all around me.
I’m a California girl and should be used to earthquakes, but they always scare me whenever they come. I know right away this is either a big earthquake from far away or a not-so-big one right underneath me. With my heart in a fit of palpitations, I pull my phone from my purse and click on the earthquake app which eventually confirms it’s not a significant earthquake but its epicenter is my town.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a red shirt approaching. There are a lot of empty checkout counters but Jake comes up right behind me.
“Are you okay?” The concern in his voice sounds genuine.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just kind of got scared for a minute.”
Another sharp jolt rocks the building and I grab onto Jake’s arm. This quake is much smaller and shorter in duration. An aftershock.
“Aargh!” I don’t want him to know how truly nervous I am right now and I’m embarrassed to have grabbed him like that. “I hate earthquakes.”
“I’ll walk you to your car. I’m going over to the next checkout. Wait for me.” He smiles and then adds, “Good thing you weren’t leaning over the edge of your roof when it happened.”
Jake helps me unload my bags into the Hornet.
“Do you always do the shopping?” he asks.
“Sometimes. My dad and his girlfriend both work full-time, and on the weekends they try to catch up on stuff. How about you?”
“Me too . . . sometimes. My mom and dad both work too.”
“I started running again.” More small talk but hopefully more interesting to him.
“I actually saw you running a few days ago.” So it was him in the Jeep.
“Yeah, it feels good to be doing something physical since I’m not on swim team this summer.”
“You looked pretty good.” I know it’s a cliché to say his eyes twinkle, but they do. “Running, I mean.”
“I saw you yesterday,” I say.
“Yeah, I know. I saw you too.”
“You didn’t say anything—or even wave.” We’re done looking everywhere but at each other. Now we’re looking right into each other’s eyes.
“I guess I’m a dick. What’s your excuse?” He laughs a little and I laugh too. That massive block of ice, we finally broke through it with an axe.
“Was that your grandfather?”
“It was.”
We stare at each other without saying a word. He reaches over and lightly lifts my fingertips with his own, then lets them fall.
“Could we try again?” he asks.
“I’m not very good . . . with guys. I guess I’m a dork. Sorry.”
He holds my gaze. “Is that a yes or a no? Just so I know for sure.”
“Could we try just being friends?”
He pauses as if he’s thinking about something. “I could do that. I could be friends.” He gently tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear and a shiver literally passes down my spine. “So do you want to do something sometime—as friends?”
I hope he’s not making fun of me, but it doesn’t feel like it.
“I’d like that.”
“You still have my number?”
As if I’d ever delete it. “Yeah, I still have it.”
“Then shoot me a text sometime . . . if you want.”
He turns his shopping cart around and, standing on the back, pushes off with one foot. I watch him ride the cart all the way down the sloped parking lot to his Jeep. Don’t know how I didn’t see it there when I drove in unless he came after me. He turns around and waves as I’m getting into the car and I wave back. Only then does it occur to me that Grandpa might be at home, scared out of his mind from the earthquake.
When I walk through the front door, Grandpa is waiting.
“Krista, you would not believe what happen to Charlie. I was sleeping soundly, and all of a sudden, this crazy bird start flying around the room flapping his wings and making so much noise, I tell you! It took him five minutes to calm. Then I see your note that you are at the store.”
“Did you feel the earthquake?”
“No.” He makes a tsk tsk noise while shaking his head. “Earthquake?”
“That’s probably why Charlie was going nuts. He always freaks when there’s an earthquake.”
“Ah. This is the reason then.”
“Come, Kicsi, let me help you carry the bags and we go have a snack in the kitchen—some cookies from the pretty lady and maybe a nice glass of milk.”
“Grandpa, you called me Kicsi last night. That was Mom’s nickname.”
“Yes,” he says tenderly. “It means “little one” in Hungarian. Now you are my little one.”
“I have to be honest with you . . . it kind of bothers me when you call me that.”
“Why, Krista?” Grandpa looks hurt.
“It was Mom’s special name, that’s all.”
“I see . . . then no more Kicsi. Now let’s go have some cookies.”
__________
My father and Marie still aren’t home when the doorbell rings. They usually work late on Wednesdays and then stop to pick up dinner on their way home. My grandfather follows me to the front door with the excitement and expectation everyone has when a doorbell rings—even when it’s somebody else’s home. It’s Chad. I’d forgotten all about him.
“Hi, Krista.” He’s out of breath as though he just ran to the door from his dad’s car, which he probably did. “Could you come out on the street for a few minutes? My dad’s waiting, and I have to go.”
Grandpa follows me out to the street with Chad in the lead. I didn’t have time to introduce them, and in fact Chad didn’t even seem to notice him. Once we’re out on the street, I see Chad’s father parked directly opposite my house. His engine is still running. He rolls down the window and waves and I wave back.
“Hope we’re not bothering you,” he says in a friendly voice. “Chad absolutely had to come show this to you.”
“Who is this man and this
boy?” my grandfather whispers to me.
“This is my grandpa,” I say loudly. Not being sure what to call Chad’s dad makes introductions difficult.
“Hi, Krista’s grandpa.” Chad’s father smiles and nods. “I’m Chad’s father.”
Chad has retrieved a soccer ball from the backseat of the SUV. He looks over at my grandpa as if noticing him for the first time.
“Oh, hi.”
My grandpa smiles at each one in turn. He still has no idea who they are even though they now know who he is.
Chad stands in the middle of the street and begins to juggle the ball, counting out loud each time the top of his foot makes contact with the ball.
“. . . 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, darn!”
The ball spins off in my grandfather’s direction and he catches it on the top of his polished loafer after one bounce. He juggles the ball four or five times without ever touching it with his hand and sends it back to Chad with a perfectly aimed kick.
“Wow,” Chad looks at Grandpa with new interest. “You’re pretty good.”
“Let’s go, Chad. We’re going to be late. Thanks, Krista. Nice meeting you . . .” Chad’s father trails off, not sure what to call my grandpa.
“Great job, Chad! Can’t wait to go out with you again. Bye.”
I look over at Grandpa who’s waving to these two people who are still strangers to him.
“Grandpa, where did you learn to play soccer?”
“Oh, we played all the time when I was little boy. I played with my brothers and all the other kids in my village. But what you call soccer, we call futbol.”
“Pretty cool, Grandpa. You haven’t lost your skills.”
He chuckles. “Who was this boy and this man who come and go so quick?”
Chapter | 20
Marie and Dad come home with dinner, and since it’s such a nice night, we decide to eat on the back patio. I see the pain in Marie’s face when I mention that Chad stopped by for a few minutes and that she just missed him. I didn’t want to tell her, but I couldn’t exactly keep it from her either—that would have required a conspiracy of at least three people. Chad would have to explain to his mother why he didn’t come later when he knew she would be home. But then, Marie probably already knows why. It makes Chad’s life easier if he can avoid being in the same place at the same time as both of his parents—even if one of them is waiting in a car, and the other is waiting in a house.
The House at 758 Page 12