“Josh?” Grams calls out, and our focus darts to her.

She has one eye open, almost like a kid afraid of a horror movie. “Oh, thank God. I thought you were one of the nurses, poking and prodding…” She throws the covers off her. “You’re here to take me home, right?”

Josh releases my hand to stop her from getting out of bed. “I can’t yet, ma’am. Soon, though, okay?”

Grams rolls her eyes. “More poking and prodding?”

Josh gives her a half-hearted grin. “Just a little.”

She gets back into bed, smiling fondly at Josh who covers her with the blankets. “Where’s Tommy?” she asks, looking around the room. She doesn’t see me standing behind Josh, my hands grasping his shirt. I don’t know why I’m hiding from her, why I’m suddenly so afraid, but it’s taking everything I have to not break down and right now, Josh is the only thing I have to prevent that.

He says, “Tommy’s with my mom. He’s fine.”

Grams sighs, relieved. “I can’t even imagine how scared you boys must’ve been. Oh, Joshua, I’m so sorry.”

“Stop it, ma’am. I’m fine. You’re fine.” He runs a finger across her forehead, shifting the hair from her eyes. “Everything’s good, okay?”

She grasps his hand with both of hers. “Did you win the tournament?”

“I did.”

“Oh, I’m so proud of you.”

“I know you are.” He starts to step aside, but I fist his shirt tighter, so he reaches behind him, grasping my wrist gently and encouraging me forward. “I got a surprise for you,” he tells her. He’s talking to her like he talks to Tommy, a tone I was once so envious of. Josh tugs on my arm, and I finally find the courage to reveal myself.

Grams’s eyes light up, her smile matching mine. Then I wave, and her grin spreads. She looks from me to Josh. “Oh my,” she says to him. “It’s about time you got yourself a lady. Who’s this beautiful girl?”

13

—Joshua—

try

trʌɪ/

verb

1. make an attempt or effort to do something.

I sit with Chaz, holding her hand until she falls asleep. When Becca left the room after Chazarae showed no signs of recognition, I was torn on whether to go after her or stay with Chaz. Obviously, I decided to stay. I didn’t want to, but I felt it more important that Chaz not feel overwhelmed. Like the nurse said, it was best we not push her. But now I’m sitting here wondering how it’s possible for her to remember my stupid skate tournament but not remember her own granddaughter.

I release her hand, making sure not to wake her, and kiss her forehead. Then I leave the room, phone in hand, ready to message Becca. But I don’t need to. She’s standing just outside the room, her back leaning against the wall.

“Hey, Becs,”

She fails at trying to force a smile. Then she’s in my arms, her tears soaking my chest, her arms wrapped tightly around me. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, because I don’t know what else to say and I don’t even really know what I’m apologizing for. For Chaz not knowing who she is? For not realizing something was wrong? For not finding her earlier? I don’t know. All I know is I’m sorry. But it doesn’t seem to matter because she’s crying harder now, silent sobs wracking her entire body. “Becs…” I rear back and hold her face in my hands. Her cheeks are wet, her eyes wetter. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

She chews on her lip to fight the trembling while her sad, desperate eyes meet mine. Then she shakes her head, her hand reaching for her phone. There’s nothing we can do. She has no idea who I am.

I read her text, again and again, hoping it gives me time to come up with a response that will take away some of her pain. “I understand you’re hurting. Trust me, I do. And she might not know you now, but it’s just… she’s been through a lot.”

She knows you!

I swallow the knot in my throat and whisper, “She’s just known me longer. That’s all.”

But she’s my family.

Her eyes plead, begging for a response to somehow take away her pain, but the only thing I can think to say only elevates mine. “She’s my family, too, Becs.”

Her eyes drift shut, her hand covering her mouth.

I take a chance and step forward, tugging lightly on her top to get her attention. She opens her eyes, but she doesn’t look at me. “I know it’s hard,” I whisper, my mouth an inch from her ear. She drops her arm to her side, allowing me to come closer. My hand’s on her waist now, my thumb grazing the bare skin between her top and her jeans. I push aside the memories, the longing, the desire to have her this close always, and I swallow my nerves. “But as hard as it may be for us, it’s worse for her. She’s not going to understand what’s happening, so we need to be there for her, in any way we can.”