Page 100 of Felix

It takes me a moment to realize why Christian’s face has gone all soft. The implication of my words.

“Yeah, Specs,” he says, his smile almost bashful. “I’d really like that.”

My chest nearly bursts.

Christian loads up the songpyeon, along with the food from yesterday, and we head out the door. I’m used to the route to the assisted living facility, having made the journey several times for my research aide position, but this is the first time I’m arriving with Christian. He leads the way to his grandma’s room, knocking on the open door.

“Christian,” Mrs. Park says warmly. Christian doesn’t hesitate to walk her way, bending down to give his grandmother a hug. “And Mr. Reed. It’s so good to see you again.”

“Hi, Mrs. Park,” I respond.

“Are you hungry?” Christian asks. “We brought lunch.”

“Just in time,” Mrs. Park says, getting out of her chair. “I was starting to feel a bit peckish.”

Christian walks beside his grandma as we make our way down the hall to the communal dining area. Other residents are eating, too, most of them with the same prepared lunch from the facility. We sit at a table of our own, and as soon as Christian pulls out the container with the songpyeon, Mrs. Park’s eyes light up.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, giving his arm a squeeze. She sighs as she picks up one of the rice cakes, popping the entire thing in her mouth.

“They’re not as good as yours,” Christian says.

His grandmother shakes her head. “They’re perfect. Now tell me what’s new.”

Christian tells his grandma about making the rice cakes with me in her old kitchen. About Thanksgiving yesterday with my family, although he paints the evening in a delicate light. He shows her a picture of the floral skirt he’s working on, which she gushes over, complimenting the fabric choice and his impeccable design. She asks about my classes, too, and the research project. I had to give Mrs. Park’s sessions over to Lucy, seeing as my relationship with Christian could have made me biased, but she assures me Lucy is doing a fine job. “Although not as good as you,” she says with a wink.

Mrs. Park also regales me with a few stories from Christian’s youth. He doesn’t seem to mind, although he does blush when she tells me about his attempt to dye his own fabric. It didn’t go well, but he was only thirteen.

We sit together and talk for nearly two hours, and the entire time, Christian’s grandmother is present. It’s in the way she listens and encourages us to go on. It’s how she never once seems impatient or loses focus when I accidentally ramble a little too long about the philosophical concept of One Mind, in which all beings share a collective consciousness, our individual experiences like an endless spectrum of light cast from the same prism. She’s there, in body and in mind, and it’s such a stark difference from how I felt last night that I ache with it, both good and bad.

When Christian and I go, it’s with a promise to visit again soon.

We’re nearly to the door when I say, “Do I accept it?”

It’s clear I startled him, but Christian doesn’t falter as we walk toward the car. “Accept what, Specs?”

“Feeling small around them,” I answer, knowing he’ll understand what I mean. “Feeling like I don’t matter.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “You talked to them when Henry was feeling that way.”

“It’s different.”

“Is it?”

I swallow, and we come to a stop in front of the car. “How do I tell the people who raised me that I want them to care more? How do I say that, Christian?”

“Just like that,” he says gently. “You be honest. Tell them how you feel.”

“I’m scared to.”

“Why? I know you have an answer, Mr. Psych Major, even if it’s not one you like.”

I huff a small, pained laugh. “What if I find out they truly don’t care?” I ask, my voice breaking. “What if I say something, and it doesn’t get better?”

Christian takes my hand in his, playing with the tips of my fingers. His are slightly callused from sewing. “If you never say anything, you’re going to hurt. You already are. Isn’t it worth the chance that it might get better?”

I let out a breath. “Will you be there?”

He draws me in, arms wrapping around me tight. “Of course, Specs.”

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