Page 49 of Felix

Chapter 13

Emil

“Thank you, Mrs. Park. That was the last one. We’re all set for today.”

The elderly woman across from me nods, sitting back in her chair. She’s wearing a soft ivory cardigan, and despite being in a nursing home, she appears to be both spry and intelligent.

“I’ll be back in another week to—”

“Specs?”

My words cut off, and I look up in surprise at Christian, who’s standing beside our table in the recreation room.

“Christian? What, uh…what are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” he says, leaning down to give Mrs. Park a hug. “Hey, Grandma.”

Oh. Oh.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Mrs. Park says in return, patting Christian’s—her grandson’s—cheek. “I wasn’t expecting you today. You know Mr. Reed?”

“We’re neighbors,” Christian says, eyes meeting mine. “He lives across the alleyway.”

“What a coincidence,” Mrs. Park says.

A coincidence.

Christian’s lips twitch into a smile. “Mm.”

“We were just finishing up,” I tell Christian, who looks at the papers in front of me. I slip them back into the folder.

“Finishing up with…” Christian says slowly.

“I’m doing Mr. Reed’s experiment,” Mrs. Park replies.

“It’s not my research,” I hasten to remind her, as well as make sure Christian understands. “But, uh, yeah. Your grandmother is one of the participants in our study.”

Christian’s brow furrows, but Mrs. Park starts to stand, so he offers an arm. “Here.”

She accepts the support, even though she seems steady on her feet. “Thank you, sweetheart. Why don’t you walk me back to my room, and then you can come catch up with your friend here.”

I give Christian a nod. “I’ll wait. Have a nice day, Mrs. Park.”

“You, too, dear,” she says. “I’ll see you next week.”

Christian heads out of the room with his grandmother, and in the relative quiet that follows, I realize exactly how hard my heart is beating. I’m just putting away the last of my things when Christian returns. He plops into his grandmother’s vacated seat, arms crossed on the table in front of him and an open, if not befuddled, look on his face.

“Explain,” he says simply.

I never told Christian the specifics of the research study I’m involved in, but I see no problem doing so now. “We’re studying the effects of cognitive training in relation to dementia.”

Christian sits straighter in his seat, as if he’s been zapped. “My grandma is showing signs of dementia?”

I pull in a quick breath. “Oh, no. No, no, no,” I rush to say. “Shit, Christian, I’m sorry. No, she’s not. She’s in a participant group of individuals without dementia.”

He lets out a gust of air, forehead plopping onto his arms. “Jesus, Specs.”

I curse again—quietly, mind you, considering where we are. Telling my nerves to fuck off, I reach forward and thread my fingers through Christian’s hair.

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