I threw my pen at his head. It bounced off his temple, making a satisfyingthunkbefore falling on the ground.
“Nice aim,” Ro said.
“I try,” I said, grinning. “So you’re going to hook up with Cassie ClairburneandEric’s sisters? He’ll kill you.”
Ro gave a shit-eating grin. “He’s already used to getting my sloppy seconds.”
“Ew,” I said.
“I meant he could have Cassie, not his sisters! What’s your problem?” But he was still smiling.
“Cassie’s not a thing that he canhave,” I said, sounding even to my own ears like his mother. “But I guess it’s Rowan Cohen’s world and we all just live in it.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “It’s Luke Cohen’s world and we all just live in it.”
I frowned. “What does Luke have to do with anything?”
“Just stating facts,” Ro said, returning to his game.
I rolled my eyes, too tired to try to decipher the latest grudge Ro apparently had with his brother. Ro had always been jealous of Luke, with good reason, since his older brother got the kind of grades Ro could only dream of and seemingly without having to try very hard for them. But then again, there was a bookshelf full of trophies boasting of Rowan’s adequacy in other ways. As far as I could tell, he’d never had a bad day on the court. The irony was, while the two brothers were each convinced that the other one had an easier life, it was unbelievably clear to me that they both worked hard at what they loved. Sure, they were both born with gifts, but they’d worked to cultivate them. Why was it so difficult for them to acknowledge this? And why, in the past few months, had the gulf between them seemed to stretch further than ever?
NOW
“You’re asking questions I can’t answer,” Ernie says stubbornly, leaning back in his rocking chair.
“You said you wanted me to fill out the crossword for you!”
“Yes, and I thought you’d think of the answers and then write them down,” he says.
“Ernie,” I sigh.
“Jessica,” he echoes.
“My name’s not Jessica. I told you.” I remember the conversation I had with my mom about my name. “It almost was, though.”
“Hmm,” he says. “Never met a girl who was just Jessi before you.”
“I’m one of a kind,” I say, and wink at him.
He snorts. “You’re just lucky you haven’t met my granddaughter. She’d add attiferorculesto your name. Jessittifer. Jessicules.”
I laugh. “Okay, so forget the crossword. Can we go for a walk today?”
“If you feel that I have not suffered enough in my eighty-some years, then yes, we can certainly go for a walk.”
“Great,” I say, clapping my hands. “It’s gorgeous outside.”
Ernie harrumphs as I grab his shoes from near the door. He leans forward to put them on, his hands shaking. I would offer to help, but he likes to do it himself. I drag his walker to him and he stands and follows me to the door.
As we walk down the hallway, we pass several other residents and some nurses, all of whom greet us enthusiastically, except for one short woman with white hair who glares at Ernie as she opens the door next to his.
“That’s Clarisse,” he whispers once she’s gone into her unit and shut her door. “An angel on earth, that’s for sure.”
“I’d be cranky, too, if you kept me up all night with a tennis ball,” I tell him, and he roars with laughter. Honestly, at this point, I think I’m just encouraging him.
Outside, we walk through the garden before finding a bench under the canopy of a leafy tree.
“See, isn’t all this fresh air and sun worth the walk?”
