“Yes,” said Stesha. “Helen was the first.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Christopher’s head jerk up at the mention of Helen’s name, and I smiled.
“The wedding’s off,” Stesha said, popping one of Ginny’s miniature cookies into her mouth. “She’s donating the entire catering budget to the cause.”
“Whoa,” I said, and then admitted, “I’m glad they’re not getting married, but I feel a little bad for Hank.”
“This might be the wake-up call he needed,” Stesha said philosophically and shrugged. “We’ll see.” But now she nodded knowingly at me when everyone started promising to forward the link to the video to all their friends. That, as she said, is how a social revolution starts.
When everyone gathered around the dessert trays, Quattro leaned over to me and said, “Which reminds me that you still owe me a modeling fee and a first date. You’re racking up quite the debts.”
“I still don’t pay modeling fees, but I might make an exception for you.” I smiled archly at him. “That is, if you’re up for a surprise.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The morning after the party, I walked out to the front porch juggling two steaming mugs of coffee for my parents, who were chatting animatedly on the swing bench.
“What are you two plotting now?” I asked, handing them their Americanos, extra-hot the way they liked them.
Dad sipped the coffee with an appreciative groan. “It’s time to retire the Fifty by Fifty.”
“What? You can’t!” I protested, ready to cheer Dad on in his own personal pep rally: Just because he was going blind didn’t mean that he had to stop adventuring. Heck, as I had researched, there are plenty of blind adventurers. Look at Eric Weihenmayer, who summited Everest… blind! Not to mention blind archers. Archers! And blind artists, musicians, authors, and athletes.
Before I could slide behind my pulpit of peppiness, Mom said, “Who wants to cap it at fifty? We’re voting for daily adventure.”
Plan B, they told me, called for both of them cutting back the workweek to four days so they could hike together on Thursdays three seasons a year, and switch to snowshoeing in the winter. But they could only do this if Dad picked up vocational therapy to start adapting to his loss of vision.
“It’s time to look this straight in the eye,” Dad said, then shrugged with a wry expression that was wiped clean of any morbidity. “So to speak. I just need to figure out how to adapt.”
“You will,” I said.
“I will,” he agreed confidently.
Mom added, “After seeing the video, we couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you should apply to USC or NYU, too. Their film schools.”
“But… aren’t you going to need my help?”
“We’re going to have to figure it out,” Mom said.
“As much as we love you,” Dad said, lifting his mug in a toast to me, “we don’t want you living at home forever.”
“We want you to have your own life,” Mom said firmly.
One last protest bubbled up, but I stopped the words when it occurred to me that while my parents might welcome my help, they didn’t need my help. This was no different from what I’d learned from Grace on the Inca Trail. Grace with her one leg, who tirelessly, relentlessly pursued the adventure she wanted. When she needed me, she’d ask. Otherwise, she wanted me to enjoy myself. And most of all, she wanted to enjoy herself, and that meant not feeling like a burden to anyone.
“Okay, I’ll think about those schools, too,” I told them, and basked in their blessing.
Before I left to pick up Quattro at his dad’s downtown condo, I made one final pit stop with a gift for my parents: a fresh napkin, a blank canvas for their new dreams.
“So where are we going, you with that smug smile?” Quattro asked as he settled into the passenger seat.
“Smug? Who’s smug?” I demanded, even though I knew perfectly well that I was exuding self-satisfaction that purified into sweet satisfaction after he leaned over the parking brake to kiss me. One strong hand cradled the back of my head, the other cupped my cheek. Cherished and respected, that’s how I felt with Quattro, and my body must have let him know it, too, because when he pulled back from our kiss, let’s talk about smug. His grin was all he-man glory. And I told him so.
“Yeah, well, when you’ve got it, you’ve got it,” he said lazily. “So where are we headed?”
“A photo safari.” I pulled onto the road. “My favorite spot in the city.”
“The Gum Wall?”
“Nah, I’m on to the next thing.”
“So where?”
“You’ll see.”