Here, There, Everywhere

  “Yeah, definitely.”

  “She’s single, you know. Recently single. I’m thinking you may be the perfect rebound material for her.”

  My hesitation said it all. “Yeah.”

  Dylan understood immediately. “Oh, I get it. Rose.”

  I nodded.

  “Right on. I didn’t know you two were serious.”

  “Well, it’s still early. But so far, so good.”

  “Did you make plans to see her again?” Dylan spun himself around with his back resting on the table and crossed his legs on the bench across from us. I did the same.

  “She said to stop by the nursing home sometime this week, so I thought I’d drop in Monday after my deliveries.”

  Dylan whipped his head at me. “Monday? Oh no, no, no. You gotta wait until Wednesday. Tuesday at the absolute earliest.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Dude, think about it. Remember how you told me you waited around for her all week, then she didn’t show up until Friday?”

  “Yeah, but she has a job. She was working.”

  Dylan gave me a look. “Point is, if you go rushing in to see her first thing Monday, you’ll look desperate. Give it a day. Let her wonder if you’re going to show up. Trust me.”

  “That sounds kind of, I don’t know . . . manipulative.”

  “I prefer to call it strategy. Trying to understand girls is like trying to predict the weather, but I’ve learned a thing or two.”

  He was probably right. I mean, he actually had a girlfriend. “All right, I guess I can wait until Tuesday.”

  “You’ll thank me later. So, what’s your plan? You going to bring her something? Ask her on a date?”

  “My plan?” I pictured myself riding Mom’s bike across town with a stuffed giraffe on the foot pegs. Bad plan. Maybe I could bring Rose one of Mom’s homemade, gluten-free Rice Krispie treats? Better plan.

  “Yeah, your plan. Or are you just going to walk in there, throw your arm around her, and ride off into the sunset?”

  Well, something like that, I thought. “I was thinking I’d bring her something from the café.”

  “All right, all right, that’s a start. Listen, girls like confidence. But don’t be too confident, just sure of yourself.”

  “Confident but not too confident,” I repeated.

  “Right. Take the lead. Show her you’ve been thinking about her without saying it.”

  “Take the lead.”

  “Think of it like guitar. If we’re both playing a solo at the same time, it’s like we’re stepping on each other’s toes, in the way.”

  I nodded. He didn’t need to know I couldn’t play a solo.

  Dylan continued. “On the other hand, if we’re both just strumming chords, playing rhythm, nothing much is happening. It’s boring. We’re both waiting for the other to do something.”

  “Waiting to do something,” I said, still nodding my head.

  “Right. So when you walk in there, what’s the plan?”

  I thought hard for a moment. “Um, not play rhythm?”

  Dylan waved his hands in the air as if erasing an invisible chalkboard, then gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder. “You know what, don’t even worry about it. I’m talking out of my ass. You got this. Go in there, say something nice, and ask her out.”

  “Say something nice, ask her out,” I repeated. I knew it wasn’t Dylan’s fault, but suddenly I was completely freaked out at the prospect of seeing Rose again. Ask her out where? What the hell would I do with her in Buffalo Falls—hang out at a nursing home? I needed to gather more information. “You lived here your whole life, right?”

  “Yessir, born and bred.”

  “How long have you and Anna been dating?”

  “I guess about two years? I mean, I kissed her in fifth grade, but I don’t think that counts. Yeah, I’d say we’ve officially been dating for two years.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “Yeah, pretty much.” Dylan explained how he and Anna planned on going to Buffalo Falls Community College together after graduation, then attending the University of Illinois to finish out their degrees. Anna wanted to go into education and become a PE teacher, Dylan wanted to pursue engineering, with a minor in music.

  “Cool. So what do you and Anna do for fun around here?”

  “Oh, you know, we hang out in each other’s basements playing video games, watch TV, do homework together. The usual.”

  “I don’t have a TV or a basement. I guess I’m screwed, huh?”

  “Nah, man. It sounds like Rose likes you. You’re golden.”

  I sighed and looked at the flashing carnival lights. In Chicago, there’d have been all kinds of things to do with Rose—North Avenue Beach, Navy Pier, the Riverwalk—free entertainment!

  Of course, I’d never had a girlfriend in Chicago, but Dylan didn’t need to know that. Sure, I’d hung out with plenty of girls in the neighborhood, but they’d practically felt like sisters or cousins, I’d known them so long. I guess the closest I’d ever come to having a girlfriend was going to the frosh-soph mixer with Abbie Shoemaker last year. We’d texted for a few weeks before and after the dance, and actually had a pretty good time while there. But it soon faded away to nothing and she moved on to someone else for the next dance.

  I slowly blew air through my cheeks. “I just don’t know how to move forward with Rose.” I paused and turned to Dylan. “I’m open to suggestions.”

  Dylan thought for a minute, then clapped his hands together. “Hey! What about this—your mom owns a restaurant, right?”

  “Well, it’s a café.”

  “But it has a kitchen?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “You should offer to cook for her. A little romantic, private, after-hours dining.”

  My stomachache returned at the thought of asking Rose on a dinner date. What if she said no? Worse, what if she said yes? The only things I’d ever cooked were mac-n-cheese, frozen pizza, and popcorn, and I’d even screwed them up a time or two.

  I imagined the conversation: “Hi, it’s me, Zeus. From the hike. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for pepperoni pizza tonight? No, not delivery, frozen. We can have some pudding cups for dessert. Oh, you’re busy? Me too. Sorry to interrupt. Good-bye.”

  Dylan must have noticed the blood leave my face. “Whoa, not trying to freak you out or anything, dude. But you have to be a little creative around here. It’s not Chicago.”

  “I think that’s an understatement.”

  “Trust me. Dinner. She’ll love it.”

  Before we left, Dylan and I shook hands, or at least it ended up that way. It began by him offering a fist pound, me shaking it, then him correcting to a handshake and me fist-pounding his fingertips. After our impromptu secret handshake ended, we parted ways, agreeing to hang out again soon. All in all, it had been quite the successful weekend.

  Now I just had to make it until Tuesday.

  TWELVE

  SUNDAY AND MONDAY WERE THE LONGEST DAYS IN RECORDED HISTORY. Tuesday finally came, and I approached Hilltop carrying one of Mom’s gluten-free Rice Krispie treats. Dylan’s advice had been running through my head like a mantra: Say something nice, ask her out. Dinner. She’ll love it. I’d been watching YouTube videos on my phone the past couple nights and felt like I could at least boil water and butter bread.

  I parked the bike and walked with Grub through the automatic doors. As I’d hoped, beautiful piano music drifted from the common room. I didn’t recognize the song, but I recognized the girl. I’d heard the phrase “my heart skipped a beat” before, but never understood it until now.

  I tried to give myself a quick pep talk. After all, we’d had a great time together hiking, right? So why was my heart racing? Out of excitement? And if so, why did excitement feel so much like absolute terror?

  Approximately twenty residents sat around the piano on various lounge chairs and sofas. Letty, the ringleader, sat cross-legged on a couch. Blackjack remained in his wheel
chair at the perimeter with Mary Santos.

  “Let’s go, private,” I said to Grub.

  We walked up to Blackjack and Mary, who had their backs to us. When we were close enough, I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, Mrs. Santos?”

  She turned, and her eyes lit up when she saw us. “Hi, Private Grub! Hi, Zeus!” she said in a loud whisper, motioning for us to join them. She put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me in. “I heard you and Rose had a fun time on Friday.”

  She told her mom it was fun. Score! A tiny bit of confidence returned.

  “It was. Hopefully we can go back there sometime.”

  “I’m sure she’d like that. And you don’t have to call me Mrs. Santos. Mary is fine.” I nodded as she continued. “I’m so glad you brought this little soldier with you,” she said, motioning to Grub. “Blackjack has been asking about him.” She gently shook the old man’s shoulder. “Blackjack, look who’s here.”

  Blackjack turned, nine decades of bone, sinew, and muscle working together to slowly move his huge frame around. His eyes fell fiercely upon me, his mouth a thin, lipless line, sagging in the corners. But then his eyes lowered to Grub, and recognition sparked.

  Grub lifted a hand to his brow in salute.

  The corners of Blackjack’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. He raised a feeble hand to his brow, returning the salute. “I thought we’d lost you.”

  Grub approached him and stood at attention. “We’ve had reports of enemies in the hallways.”

  Blackjack straightened his back, as much as he could, then looked at Mary. “The private and I will secure the perimeter. We’ll report back at fifteen hundred hours with any intel.”

  Mary squinted her eyes and nodded at the unlikely pair. “I’d better join you two—in case you need extra backup.” Mary turned to me and winked. “I think I see a seat open on the couch, by Letty. Rose will be done in five minutes or so.”

  I looked at Letty, remembering her foul mouth and dance moves.

  “She’s harmless, I assure you. Sometimes she can be a little shocking, but she’s a real sweetheart.”

  Still, I eyed the seat with suspicion.

  Mary patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, she’ll love you.” She wheeled Blackjack away, and Grub trotted along behind.

  I looked at the spot on the couch next to Letty, then at Rose, who hadn’t seen me yet.

  Here we go, I thought. I’d wait until Rose finished playing, then: Say something nice, ask her out.

  As I wove through the crowd, several confused heads turned to look at me.

  I waved.

  One waved back, another blinked. The third, Letty—dressed to impress in a flowery nightgown, pink slippers, and hair curlers—grinned and slapped a bony hand on the cushion next to her.

  I sat two cushions away.

  She scooched over. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

  “Uhh . . . Zeus.”

  “Gesundheit!” she said, then raised her voice to a holler. “Someone turn down the AC. It’s like a goddamn morgue in here! Not all of us are dead yet, you know.”

  All heads turned to us then, including Rose’s. I felt my face heat to extra warm.

  Rose bit her lip and gave me a little wave.

  I smiled sheepishly and waved back.

  “So what’d you say your name was, kid?”

  “Zeus Gunderson,” I said, enunciating clearly this time.

  “Letty Kowalczyk,” she countered, sticking out a hand, which I shook. She patted her hair curlers. “Usually I don’t let handsome young men see me like this, but I just got out of my spa treatment.”

  “Spa treatment?”

  “Oh, sure! Second Tuesday of every month.”

  “It looks nice,” I said, unsure how to respond.

  “The gals and I like to get all dolled up, don’t we?” She waved over two plump women, also in curlers, sliding by on yellow-tennis-ball-clad walkers. “Hey Bettys,” Letty called. “Come meet my new pal, Zeus. Don’t shake his hand though. He has a cold!”

  The women propelled themselves across the shiny floor like beginning ice skaters, their slippered feet never leaving the ground.

  “This here is Betty,” Letty explained to me, pointing. “And this here is the other Betty.”

  I nodded as if I understood.

  “Oooh, you got yourself a young’un’!” said Betty.

  “Younger than the last!” said the other Betty.

  “I like ’em young,” said Letty. “That way they can keep up with me!”

  Letty winked at me to let me know she was joking, but it felt like my face was on fire, verging on extra crispy. I held the box containing the Rice Krispie treat in a death grip.

  Rose peeked over her shoulder again at the commotion. “Oh my God!” she mouthed, grinning.

  “Save me!” I mouthed back.

  Rose quickly finished the song and headed over.

  The Bettys had launched themselves closer, trapping me against the couch. As I pondered the odds of successfully squeezing between them, their eyes raised to the distance.

  “Aw, shit!” said one.

  “Fun’s over,” said the other.

  Letty leaned in close and whispered, “Follow my lead, kiddo.” She lifted a leg and rested her foot on my knee. Her nightgown fell away, exposing a pale, skinny leg.

  The nursing home director, Missy Stouffer, appeared, clipboard in hand, red-rimmed glasses perched at the end of her nose. She looked at me with eyebrows raised, waiting for an explanation.

  “Do you have a visitor’s badge?” she asked with an “I’m not messing around” look.

  “He’s not a visitor, he’s my personal volunteer. Isn’t that right?” Letty said, looking at me. I nodded back, confused. “He’s rubbing my bunions. Helps with the swelling.” Letty tilted her head at me, then to her foot, then back at me. I formed a pincer with my thumb and forefinger, removed her pink slipper, and started rubbing. I looked at Ms. Stouffer and nodded.

  “Volunteer,” I spat, unsure of what I’d just committed myself to, but hoping it’d be over soon.

  Mary had reappeared behind Ms. Stouffer, along with Grub and Blackjack and a perky-looking woman with bright red hair whose name tag read Candy.

  “That’s right, Ms. Stouffer,” said Mary, putting a hand on Grub’s shoulder. “And this little soldier has been volunteering with Mr. Porter, whose short-term memory has been improving after his visits.”

  “You’re goddamned right,” Blackjack said, glaring at Ms. Stouffer.

  Ms. Stouffer cleared her throat and pushed up her glasses. “I see.” Then she turned to the redheaded woman. “Candy, as volunteer coordinator, I expect you have their paperwork in order?”

  “I’ll have it on your desk first thing tomorrow,” Candy said, looking at me and smiling broadly, though her eyes said “don’t even think about leaving here without filling out those papers.”

  I nodded back, suddenly understanding I’d just been volunteered for more than an afternoon. Crap. The last thing I’d planned on doing this summer was becoming a nursing home bunion rubber. I wondered if it was too late to change my mind, but then Rose caught my attention. She smiled and nodded eagerly, mouthing the words “Do it!”

  And that was that.

  “Count us in,” I said to Missy.

  “Well then,” said Missy, looking at me and Grub. “Welcome to the Hilltop community. We appreciate your service,” she added thinly, then marched off to her office, clipboard clasped to her chest.

  “Thanks,” I said to Candy and Mary, who still stood behind me. I looked over at Letty. “You too,” I added.

  “Sure thing.” She wiggled her foot. “Who told you to stop rubbing?”

  I rubbed.

  “Hey there,” Rose said, biting back a smile as she joined the rest of us by the couch.

  “Hey there,” I said back. I worked at Letty’s bunion with one hand and held the Rice Krispie treat in the other, while everyone watched. I felt like a confused zoo monkey with a c
rowd of field trip students pointing and watching as I did monkey things.

  “This is for you,” I said, holding out the box to Rose.

  “Thanks, kiddo!” said Letty, grabbing it. “The food here tastes like horseshit.”

  THIRTEEN

  DUE TO MY NEW VOLUNTEER STATUS AT HILLTOP, I NOW HAD AN EXCUSE to see Rose every weekday after finishing my deliveries. And Dylan’s sister, Maggie, had ordered the 5-Day Deal, asking to be the last delivery of the day to accommodate her work schedule. So each afternoon at two, Grub and I would stop by Dylan’s before heading to Hilltop.

  Though newly mobile, Dylan hadn’t been authorized by his doctor to return to work at the moving company, so he seemed to appreciate our daily visits. The feeling was mutual all around, and the visits lasted longer each time. While Dylan and I talked music, guitar, and girls, Grub played in the backyard with Agatha.

  As for Hilltop and Rose, I still hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask her to dinner. Admittedly, the nursing home common room wasn’t exactly the ideal location to have a private conversation. Mostly I’d just steal glances at Rose while she played the piano, then make small talk with her and the residents until it was time to leave.

  By Friday though, I was determined to make my move. There was no way I’d survive a whole weekend without seeing her. That afternoon, while Rose played songs like “Somewhere over the Rainbow” and “Moon River,” I sat at a table with Letty, filling in some adult coloring books. And by adult, I mean adult. Add that to the list of things I had no idea existed. Letty’s granddaughter had dropped them off earlier, before I’d arrived.

  Letty broke the silence.

  “So, you grow some balls yet, kid?”

  The tip of my colored pencil snapped off. “What?” I asked.

  She let out a soft, throaty chuckle. “You and I both know why you’re here every day, and it’s not to color, is it?” She nodded toward the piano, then a second time, to emphasize her point.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I knew exactly what she meant.

  “Oh, come on, you look over there every ten seconds! And when you’re not looking at her, she’s looking at you.”

  I twisted my colored pencil in the sharpener, caught dead to rights. I leaned closer to Letty. “Is it that obvious?”