"Not exactly. She misses my grandfather and won't ask for the company she only sort of wants. I think she's fading away more than anything."
"But now her favorite grandchild is by her side. That has to make her feel better," he says. "It's always made me feel better to have you close."
I want to tell Jamie he has a terrible way of showing it, but that's not a fight I'll pick under someone else's roof. After glancing down the small hallway, I move toward the living room window and try not to look across the street.
"A visit to New Jersey isn't off the table. I volunteered to spendthe summer here, but I'm allowed to leave. I'm allowed to see anyone I want."
"See."
"Is there another word I should use?" I ask.
His pause is as good as a shrug. "It's fine. It just sounded like maybe you weren't talking about me."
"Come on, Jamie."
"I know. It's not fair that I keep wanting it all. I do know that."
It won't change anything though, and my next thought is unrelated. Or maybe it's my turn to want it all. "I wish you could meet her. My grandmother. I hate that you haven't met any of my family. I know you sort of saw them at my grandfather's funeral, but you stayed away, and that was—it wouldn't have been the same."
"If I remember correctly, you threatened me with their presence at the carnival that first year."
I chuckle. "It could only be considered a threat if you were actually afraid of it."
"You don't think I was afraid?" he asks, his voice nearly cracking. "All that acceptance and love and probably immeasurable displays of affection? And they know about you, so then they would've known about me? And they might've been glad to meet me anyway?"
"I mean, Ihaveintroduced them to straight people before," I tease. "Their hugs wouldn't necessarily have come with a bunch of preconceived notions about why you and I were spending the afternoon together."
"But they would've hugged me?"
"Almost certainly, yes."
"And meeting them eventually is probably inevitable, huh?"
It doesn't matter how many times I remember I'm one of the dreams he's chasing—it takes my breath away every time. "I hope so."
"Okay, I'm gonna let you go," he says. "Keep me posted on things there, and then we'll figure out a time for you to fly out here?"
I agree, and we say our goodbyes, and I turn at the sound of quiet footsteps behind me.
"Was that a nice boy on the phone?"
"It was," I smile. "How long were you listening to me talk to the nice boy?"
"Only long enough to hear you sayI hope so, but you were so sad about it. Do we need to pray for him? Should we pray for you both?"
"He needs to find some peace. Once he does that, I'll be okay."
She nods, then shifts her focus to the window I've tried to ignore. "What about that nice boy?"
"Logan?"
"Yes,Logan. Are there so many boys outside my house that I was unclear somehow?"
"No, ma'am," I say, ducking my head to hide my grin. "And I haven't spoken to Logan since I've been here, but he's—"
I trail off, but my grandmother doesn't miss a beat. "Not the one who makes your voice so full of love on a phone call."
"He's not. That was Jamie."