“Well, what is it about?”
I get up, take the water bottle out of my bag, and throw it on the blanket. “It’s about me not wanting to feel like you want to change me, or make me into someone I’m not. These gifts aren’t about me, they’re about you—it irritates you that I buy bottled water, so you—”
“Excuse me, uh, we’re trying to watch the movie,” a woman whispers.
I feel so much shame for making a scene. I walk away, tiptoeing across the tiny patches of grass not covered by sheets and blankets. I am not crying but I want to. I walk outside the park, cross the street. Once I am across the street, I turn around thinking Tye is behind me, thinking now we can talk without bothering people. But when I turn around, Tye is not there.
19
8 TEXT MESSAGES I ALMOST SEND TO TYE
1.I wasn’t really upset. April Fools . . . even though it’s not April. #JulyIsTheNewApril #JustKidding #AndTheOscarGoesTo
2.Tye, please call me. Please let’s talk.
3.I’m not sure how this became my fault. I asked if we could talk about it later, and you kept pushing it. At the park you had so much to say, but now you’re giving me the silent treatment?! Really?!
4.Are we just arguing, or does this mean we’ve broken up?
5.I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.
6.Tye, I’m not who you think I am, and I can’t keep pretending.
7.Here’s something you don’t know about me: I’ve been lying to you.
8.I’m sorry.
Tye didn’t text or call me last night, not even to see if I made it home. I haven’t heard from him today either. I try to distract myself, keep my mind off him. Uncle Randy always says, when you’re feeling bad about your circumstances you should do something kind for someone. So, I decide to get out of the house, do something kind for JT.
I am at Grandma’s, standing at the front desk with an ice cream sundae in my hand. “Can you tell me what apartment JT Dixon is in?” I ask. I realized on my way over here that I’ve never been to JT’s apartment. He’s always sitting out in the lounge. I have no idea where he lives.
“Isn’t June Robertson your grandmother?” Ms. Sharon asks.
“Yes, I am here to see her too, but first I need to drop this off at JT’s.” I am sneaking this treat to him. If Grandma finds out that I’m giving him ice cream, I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.
Ms. Sharon doesn’t even look at me when she says, “I’m not allowed to share personal information about residents.”
And I get it. It’s probably not safe to just let random strangers know where residents live, but I am not random. She knows who I am, and if I was going to hurt JT, would I be announcing myself and bringing him dessert?
“Why don’t you ask your grandmother where he lives?” Sharon says, and then the phone rings, so she picks it up and that’s that, until I see Ms. Louise, who waves me down the hallway and motions for me to come to her.
I do not want Grandma to see me holding this ice cream. I look around, make sure she is nowhere in sight. I walk over to Ms. Louise, and as soon as she sees the ice cream in my hand, she says, “Oh, you come bearing gifts today?”
I laugh. “I only have one this time,” I say.
“Well, I guess that’s okay,” she says. “You looking for your grandma? If she’s not in the lounge or her apartment, check JT’s place. Fifth floor, apartment 5 A.”
Perfect. I didn’t even have to ask. “Thank you.” I get on the elevator in a hurry, hoping the ice cream doesn’t melt any more than it already has.
I knock on JT’s door and wait and wait. I really hope he’s home and not at Grandma’s. I put my ear to the door, and I can hear the television—on one of the westerns, of course. I knock again, harder this time. JT opens the door, and I’m not even sure if he sees me. His eyes are fixed on the ice cream. “For me? You bought this for me?”
I hand the sundae to him. “Everyone deserves a sweet cold treat, especially in the summertime.”
“Miss Nala, you are too kind. Too kind, indeed.” With JT’s door cracked open I get a glimpse of his apartment. It is a similar layout as Grandma’s, but he has a lot less furniture, fewer photos on the wall. Makes me wonder what picture he would’ve shared for the project that isn’t happening anymore. JT smiles. “Your grandmother know about this?”
“Nope.”
He opens the door all the way. “Come in,” he says. JT becomes a little child, the way he rushes to get a spoon, the way he takes the cherry off the top and devours it. “How’d you know hot fudge is my favorite?”
I shrug. “Who doesn’t like hot fudge?”
“Indeed, Miss Nala. Indeed.” We sit at the kitchen table. JT digs into his sundae. “Now, isn’t this a shame—I don’t have anything special to offer you. Would you like some sweet tea?”
“No thank you,” I say.
JT eats a few spoonfuls and then asks, “So, what’s on your mind today?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s impossible,” JT says.
I laugh. I guess he’s right. It’s kind of impossible to think about absolutely nothing. I ask JT, “Do you think I should still try to do the photo project?”
“Oh, so that’s what’s on your mind.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking maybe I gave in too easy. Maybe I should have tried harder.” I’ve been thinking a lot about what Tye said. I still think we could have waited to talk about it. But he has a point. That’s what’s on my mind. I am thinking about how I spent the first two weeks of summer lounging on the sofa and streaming movies all day. And now, here I am actually wanting to volunteer and do something important with my time.
“It’s not too late,” JT says. “Persistence can get you far.”
And just like that I’ve decided to find a way to do this.
There’s a knock at the door, and JT calls out, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me,” Grandma says.
JT scrapes the last bit of ice cream out of the plastic cup and throws it away. He puts his index finger up to his mouth. “Shh. Our secret.”
I whisper, “Our secret.”
He opens the door.
“Well, what are you doing here?” Grandma asks.
“I, um—”
“She came to see you, but I pulled her in here because I wanted to talk to her about the photo project. We’ve been talking about her giving it another go,” JT says.
“Well, I am glad to hear that. I think that’s a great idea.”
As Grandma gets settled, I stand and push in my chair. “I’m going to go see if I can set up a meeting with Ms. Sharon. I’ll be right back.”
I leave JT’s apartment and head to the main office. This time, I have a plan. I just want to ask for a meeting. I think setting up a formal time to talk where I can really share my idea is better than just blurting it out at the front desk when there’s a line forming. I’m almost at the front desk when I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. Tye is calling. I wanted to call him first, be the one to apologize and ask if we could talk. I answer the phone. “Hello?”