Now You See It... (22 page)

"Current," Julian repeated like he was having trouble keeping up with human thinking, though he'd had almost an entire school year of it, so maybe it was just me. "How many husbands has your mother had?"

"Just the two, my dad and Bill."

"Uh-huh."

"Surely that's not implied criticism I'm hearing in your tone," I said.

"Surely not," Julian agreed.

As long as I was going around forgiving people, I could certainly spare some forgiveness for Bill for not being Dad.

Julian and I walked into my grandmother's room together.

"Hello, Miss Lysiak," I said to her roommate, who fluttered a hand at us.

Gia was still sitting on the bed, the open photo album spread across her lap. "Hi, Julian," she said. "Hey, Wendy. Feeling better?"

Better? It took me a moment to remember how claustrophobic I'd been feeling—minutes ago, as far as Gia was concerned. How I had fled the room. I didn't know how I felt about her ability to read me like that, but I nodded to acknowledge her concern. "Better," I mumbled. "Thanks."

Better about some things, worse about others. I'd never thought of my grandmother as someone my age. Now it was even harder to lose her.

Gia closed the album, just as I saw she was still on the same page as when I'd left. I glimpsed the photo Eleni's friend Betsy had snapped on the street corner, Eleni wearing her blue and white gauzy dress, looking
young, and fearless, and full of life. Gia stood and went to put the album away, to make room for all of us.

Finally, finally, I looked at my grandmother. She seemed intent on a piece of air about a foot and a half from her face.

Julian crouched down in front of her, took her hand, whispered the elven greeting, "Well met, Eleni," and kissed her fingertips.

No reaction at all.

I hesitated, patting her shoulder awkwardly. I forced myself to sit down next to her, to put away the anger I had not realized I'd been feeling, anger that she was leaving me, anger that she wasn't fighting to stay—even though I knew she
couldn't.
I buried my face into the crook of her neck and said what I hadn't said in years, since I'd been a little kid: "I love you, Nana."

Still no reaction. For about five seconds.

Maybe it was the presence of Julian, whom she had not seen in half a century, maybe it was his calling her by her long-ago name, maybe it was my tears. Maybe, even, Tiffanie had tried and this was the best she could accomplish.

Nana sat just a little bit straighter; that was what attracted my attention. Then there was a flicker—a ghost—of a smile. She whispered, "Jeannette."

Then she disappeared back to wherever it was she kept her thoughts.

Gia had come back from the desk just in time to hear. "Jeannette is our mother's name," she explained to Julian. "Sometimes Nana gets confused."

Sometimes, I thought.

But not necessarily always.

O
KAY
. W
ELL,
so I guess how seriously you're taken might have more to do with your attitude than with your name.

But I still wish I had a sexy name.

Vivian Vande Velde, like Wendy, has been traumatized with pairs of unfashionable glasses since the tender age of two. Despite her parents' assurances that she was "cute" in her glasses, twenty-twenty hindsight (and photographic evidence) suggests to her that their judgment may have been clouded by the oldest corrective lens there is: love.

She spent her first paycheck on contact lenses.

Vivian Vande Velde is also the author of
Heir Apparent
(winner of the Anne Spencer Lindbergh Prize for Best Children's Fantasy Novel),
Never Trust a Dead Man
(winner of the Mystery Writers of America's Edgar Allan Poe Award for Best Young Adult Mystery), as well as
Wizard at Work, Smart Dog,
and many others.
Now You See It
...is
her twenty-fourth book. It is the only one of her books in which the main character wears glasses.

This is no accident.