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“I’ll pocket it for a later day. I promise you…I promise you that I will tell you well before you leave Evergreen. It’s a vital part of my story.”
My palms get itchy with excitement. I love hearing this. I wonder what opportunity or what person she didn’t follow through on.
“Now…are you ready to take a brief cruise past my high school?”
I close my laptop and hop up, eager to see.
Grandma leads me down the scenic back road route to her high school, and, of course, it’s called Evergreen High School. It’s about three thirty in the afternoon, and it appears as if the school was dismissed at three. A small group of teenagers stands under a huge weeping willow tree right out front of the high school.
“That beauty was there when I was young.” Grandma remarks as I park the Jeep.
We exit slowly, and I see several cars still parked in the lot. They must belong to the teachers.
Grandma trails in front of me, heading to the weeping willow. A handful of teenagers stare at us, and as soon as they realize we are on our way to them, they scatter. An aroma of marijuana welcomes us as Grandma shakes her head.
“Look at how many kids sketched their initials or names on this tree.” Grandma places her hand on its trunk.
She’s not lying about that. It looks like someone erratically wrote a novel on the tree trunk.
“Let me guess, you left your name on here?”
Grandma nods her head, “Spot on. I sure did. One of the first ones who did. I’m surprised this tree is still standing with all its markings. I think this tree likes it.”
“Right.” I agree.
As Grandma moves around the trunk looking for her tag, I spot a couple of women exit the school’s main doors. They saunter down the stairs, staring at us with wild curiosity.
Ha, out of all the people in this town, one of the women is Isabella. I couldn’t forget her. Her sharp blue eyes cut at me as I know she recognizes me.
“Isabella? Hi.” I make the first acknowledgment.
“Oh. Hi! You’re the lost girl from LA.”
“Nadia.” I remind her, but something tells me she remembered.
Grandma peeks around the tree to see who I’m talking to. Isabella’s eyes gain massive width as she taps the elbow of the brunette beside her.
The brunette flaps her natural long eyelashes in disbelief.
“Delores Vitale?”
Grandma gives her a sweet smile.
“Yes.TheDelores Vitale, I am. Just looking for my initials, I put into this tree decades ago.” Grandma clears her throat and proceeds to search it out.
“Nadia, is she your grandmother?” Isabella’s tone shifts. She sounds nicer now.
The brunette stares at Isabella, curious how she may know me.
“I met Nadia at Joaquin’s cafe. She was stuck there during the storm a week ago.”
The brunette nods as if she recalls the story before she scans me up and down as if she’s looking for her initials on me.
“Oh. That Joaquin is one handsome man.” Grandma states.
“Nonna!” I exclaim.
My cheeks grow a deep red, and I can only imagine these women assuming I’ve raved about Joaquin to my grandmother.
