“Yeah . . .”
“You should offer to cook for her. A little romantic, private, after-hours dining.”
My stomachache returned at the thought of asking Rose on a dinner date. What if she said no? Worse, what if she said yes? The only things I’d ever cooked were mac-n-cheese, frozen pizza, and popcorn, and I’d even screwed them up a time or two.
I imagined the conversation: “Hi, it’s me, Zeus. From the hike. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for pepperoni pizza tonight? No, not delivery, frozen. We can have some pudding cups for dessert. Oh, you’re busy? Me too. Sorry to interrupt. Good-bye.”
Dylan must have noticed the blood leave my face. “Whoa, not trying to freak you out or anything, dude. But you have to be a little creative around here. It’s not Chicago.”
“I think that’s an understatement.”
“Trust me. Dinner. She’ll love it.”
Before we left, Dylan and I shook hands, or at least it ended up that way. It began by him offering a fist pound, me shaking it, then him correcting to a handshake and me fist-pounding his fingertips. After our impromptu secret handshake ended, we parted ways, agreeing to hang out again soon. All in all, it had been quite the successful weekend.
Now I just had to make it until Tuesday.
TWELVE
SUNDAY AND MONDAY WERE THE LONGEST DAYS IN RECORDED HISTORY. Tuesday finally came, and I approached Hilltop carrying one of Mom’s gluten-free Rice Krispie treats. Dylan’s advice had been running through my head like a mantra: Say something nice, ask her out. Dinner. She’ll love it. I’d been watching YouTube videos on my phone the past couple nights and felt like I could at least boil water and butter bread.
I parked the bike and walked with Grub through the automatic doors. As I’d hoped, beautiful piano music drifted from the common room. I didn’t recognize the song, but I recognized the girl. I’d heard the phrase “my heart skipped a beat” before, but never understood it until now.
I tried to give myself a quick pep talk. After all, we’d had a great time together hiking, right? So why was my heart racing? Out of excitement? And if so, why did excitement feel so much like absolute terror?
Approximately twenty residents sat around the piano on various lounge chairs and sofas. Letty, the ringleader, sat cross-legged on a couch. Blackjack remained in his wheelchair at the perimeter with Mary Santos.
“Let’s go, private,” I said to Grub.
We walked up to Blackjack and Mary, who had their backs to us. When we were close enough, I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, Mrs. Santos?”
She turned, and her eyes lit up when she saw us. “Hi, Private Grub! Hi, Zeus!” she said in a loud whisper, motioning for us to join them. She put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me in. “I heard you and Rose had a fun time on Friday.”
She told her mom it was fun. Score! A tiny bit of confidence returned.
“It was. Hopefully we can go back there sometime.”
“I’m sure she’d like that. And you don’t have to call me Mrs. Santos. Mary is fine.” I nodded as she continued. “I’m so glad you brought this little soldier with you,” she said, motioning to Grub. “Blackjack has been asking about him.” She gently shook the old man’s shoulder. “Blackjack, look who’s here.”
Blackjack turned, nine decades of bone, sinew, and muscle working together to slowly move his huge frame around. His eyes fell fiercely upon me, his mouth a thin, lipless line, sagging in the corners. But then his eyes lowered to Grub, and recognition sparked.
Grub lifted a hand to his brow in salute.
The corners of Blackjack’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. He raised a feeble hand to his brow, returning the salute. “I thought we’d lost you.”
Grub approached him and stood at attention. “We’ve had reports of enemies in the hallways.”
Blackjack straightened his back, as much as he could, then looked at Mary. “The private and I will secure the perimeter. We’ll report back at fifteen hundred hours with any intel.”
Mary squinted her eyes and nodded at the unlikely pair. “I’d better join you two—in case you need extra backup.” Mary turned to me and winked. “I think I see a seat open on the couch, by Letty. Rose will be done in five minutes or so.”
I looked at Letty, remembering her foul mouth and dance moves.
“She’s harmless, I assure you. Sometimes she can be a little shocking, but she’s a real sweetheart.”
Still, I eyed the seat with suspicion.
Mary patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, she’ll love you.” She wheeled Blackjack away, and Grub trotted along behind.
I looked at the spot on the couch next to Letty, then at Rose, who hadn’t seen me yet.
Here we go, I thought. I’d wait until Rose finished playing, then: Say something nice, ask her out.
As I wove through the crowd, several confused heads turned to look at me.
I waved.
One waved back, another blinked. The third, Letty—dressed to impress in a flowery nightgown, pink slippers, and hair curlers—grinned and slapped a bony hand on the cushion next to her.
I sat two cushions away.
She scooched over. “What’s your name, kiddo?”
“Uhh . . . Zeus.”
“Gesundheit!” she said, then raised her voice to a holler. “Someone turn down the AC. It’s like a goddamn morgue in here! Not all of us are dead yet, you know.”
All heads turned to us then, including Rose’s. I felt my face heat to extra warm.
Rose bit her lip and gave me a little wave.
I smiled sheepishly and waved back.
“So what’d you say your name was, kid?”
“Zeus Gunderson,” I said, enunciating clearly this time.
“Letty Kowalczyk,” she countered, sticking out a hand, which I shook. She patted her hair curlers. “Usually I don’t let handsome young men see me like this, but I just got out of my spa treatment.”
“Spa treatment?”
“Oh, sure! Second Tuesday of every month.”
“It looks nice,” I said, unsure how to respond.
“The gals and I like to get all dolled up, don’t we?” She waved over two plump women, also in curlers, sliding by on yellow-tennis-ball-clad walkers. “Hey Bettys,” Letty called. “Come meet my new pal, Zeus. Don’t shake his hand though. He has a cold!”
The women propelled themselves across the shiny floor like beginning ice skaters, their slippered feet never leaving the ground.
“This here is Betty,” Letty explained to me, pointing. “And this here is the other Betty.”
I nodded as if I understood.
“Oooh, you got yourself a young’un’!” said Betty.
“Younger than the last!” said the other Betty.
“I like ’em young,” said Letty. “That way they can keep up with me!”
Letty winked at me to let me know she was joking, but it felt like my face was on fire, verging on extra crispy. I held the box containing the Rice Krispie treat in a death grip.
Rose peeked over her shoulder again at the commotion. “Oh my God!” she mouthed, grinning.
“Save me!” I mouthed back.