The boy touches my arm and waves something in front of my face. Thinking it’s the cookie, I shake my head, but he doggedly continues until I realize he’s got my cell phone.
“Open it and tell us who to call for you,” the boy’s grandmother tells me.
Not my father. Not my sister.Unlocking the phone with my fingerprint, I say the name of the only person who the thought of seeing doesn’t send waves of panic through me.
As I continue to gaze out at the water, I feel as though I’m sinking below the surface, voices and distant laughter fading into a goobledy-gook of muted sound. I don’t know how much time passes before a familiar scent—woodsy yet sweet—slowly brings my head around to look at the person sitting next to me.
High cheekbones, arching dark brows, coal black eyes, small silver earrings. Each of these details I recognize individually.
“Rama.”
The voice breaks through my fugue, and I take a deep breath. Reaching out I touch his arm. “You’re here.”
“Are you all right?” Pravat touches my face, and I realize it’s wet with tears again.
Swallowing, I smile and whisper, “I am now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Pravat
Alarmed doesn’t quite cover what I’m feeling. When I get the call from Rama only to hear a stranger’s voice instead, I immediately panic. Is Rama having another episode somewhere in New York City?
“The owner of this phone asked me to call you,” the woman tells me. “He’s been sitting here in the park a very long time and seems a bit disoriented.”
I open my mouth to tell her his cousin needs to be alerted when I realize the woman is speaking in Thai.
“Where are you?” I ask. When she names a park less than five miles from where I live, it takes me a minute to gather my thoughts. “Can you stay with him until I get there?”
She promises to do so, and I grab my keys and run out the door.
I drink in the sight of him. Rama sits on the grass next to his suitcase, arms propped on his knees. An old woman sits nearby on the seat of her walker.
“Pravat?” she asks, looking up at me.
Giving her a quick wai, I nod. “Thank you so much for calling me, Grandmother.”
“It’s all right. I could see he needed some looking after.” Getting to her feet, she directs the boy to place her bag on the seat and the two of them head back to the nearby playground.
I drop to my knees on the grass beside Rama. The skin on his arms and face is pink from the sun, and I wonder how long he’s been sitting there. He’s just staring out at the lake, tears coursing down his cheeks. He turns his eyes to me, and I’m relieved when recognition dawns in them and a slow smile spreads across his face, lighting it up. Reaching out, he touches my arm as though he expects me to disappear.
“You’re here.”
“What are you doing back in Thailand?”
He blinks, thick brows dipping. “I-I’m watching the paddle boats.”
“Nevermind,” I say. “Come with me.” Getting to my feet, I help him up before grabbing the handle of his suitcase.
As we’re walking toward the parking lot, he suddenly stops, and when he looks at me, his eyes are clearer than they had been a moment before. “I don’t want to go home.”
“We’ll go to my apartment. I’ll make you dinner.”
In the car, he asks, “Did the old woman call you?”
“Yes. I was surprised you were back in Thailand.”
“I got back this morning,” he murmurs, looking out the window.
“Did something…happen?”