Pizza My Heart 1 (7 page)

The plane shuddered again and Nana yelped. “Goodness’ sake,” she complained as I leaped from Devon’s arms. “Are there speed bumps in the clouds, or what?”

“Just some turbulence, Nana,” Devon said smoothly. “Happens all the time. If you close your eyes, it’s kind of like being rocked to sleep.”

“I think we all better close our eyes,” I said, squeezing back in the seat beside Nana and stubbornly screwing my eyes shut. I was just as tired as she was, so I was pretty sure I was already dreaming when I felt her pat my hand gently.

The sun was already high in the sky once we landed in Hawaii, and it was just as beautiful as I ever could’ve imagined. I’d seen the same movie of Devon’s as Nana, but the filmography just didn’t do the little fishing village justice. Flower sellers, fruit sellers, and other vendors clamored in the main strip, but where we were staying was outside of the bustle of town, in a cozy little cottage near the water.

We stopped by there to unpack and recharge, but we didn’t need to. Nana was raring to go to the beach that had been featured in the film.

“It’s not too far from here,” Devon was saying. He hadn’t mentioned what had happened on the plane, and he seemed happier than he’d ever been since I met him. “I rented this cottage specifically for its location. We could’ve had somewhere nicer….”

“The cottage is fine,” I said firmly as we reached a path through some thick vegetation.

“This is just marvelous,” Nana breathed, clapping her fragile hands together as we wheeled her down the path. “Just smell that sea air. Breathing that every day—now, that would make a person live forever.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Devon said pleasantly. “I’m quite sure you’re going to outlive me.”

“Stop it,” she said, tittering like a small girl. “Oh, here it is. Here’s your beach, Devon. Here it is. Right in front of us.”

It was hard to fight my grin—or the tears in my eyes—that Nana had gotten the opportunity to see something she’d only dreamed about. It had all been because of Devon. I understood that and accepted it. He’d had an ulterior motive, but I didn’t care. I was so grateful to him for taking us here.

“We don’t have very much time right now, but we’ll come back here soon,” Devon said. “I just wanted you to see it first thing, Nana. This beach has your name all over it.”

“What are we doing right now?” I asked, peering at him.

“Some friends I met the last time I was here have asked if they could come to the cottage and cook for us,” he said, smiling. “They have a big mess of fish, and others want to make a traditional barbecue for us. It’s probably going to be way too much food, but these people love a good excuse for a feast.”

“What about it, Nana?” I asked her, leaning down. She didn’t take her eyes off the horizon, distant over the turquoise waters. “Does a feast sound good to you?”

“I could eat up this view all day,” she said, “but I suppose a body needs food.”

“We’ll come back here.” I laughed at her. “This is only the beginning of our vacation, you know. We have all the time in the world to see this.”

Devon’s friends were so hospitable and kind, and they really did know how to put on a shindig. There was way too much food, and I allowed Nana to stray from her diet for this special event. She completely pigged out on barbecue and fish and all the fixings, swaying and clapping her hands to the beat when a couple of guys broke out a guitar and a ukulele for an impromptu concert.

This…this was really nice. It was really special. I had to tell Devon how much this meant to us.

He was chatting with a couple of people across the yard, but he looked at me while I studied him, flashing me a smile. It wasn’t one of those perfect grins from his movie posters. It was a sincere, genuine gesture. I could feel it.

God help me, I smiled right back. He excused himself from his conversation and picked his way across the yard to us.

“Everything okay?” he asked, still smiling.

“Oh yes,” I said. “I just…I really wanted to thank you for this, Devon. This is so wonderful to be here. I never would’ve thought this would be possible.”

“You’re having a good time?” he asked. “I understand that you really didn’t want to come.”

“I never imagined that it could be this good,” I confessed. “I don’t know. Everything just happened so fast that I guess I didn’t know what to expect.”

“I’m really glad you all came,” he said. “I wanted to come back here because of how amazing it was the first time, but I suppose I didn’t know just how much more amazing it would be if I could share this experience with you all. I’ve always wanted to take someone here.”

Devon was really close to me—or I was really close to him—and it scared me a bit that I cared so little. It was nice to have him so close. I liked this. But then I realized that I was making eyes at him with my grandmother sitting right next to me, so I scooted away.

“It’s a magical place,” I said. “Don’t you think, Nana?”

“Uh-oh,” Devon remarked. “Looks like she crashed out.”

She was snoring, her mouth open in her classic pose.

“Oh,” I said, then laughed. “It’s been an exciting day for her. I’ll wheel her back inside.”

As soon as I unlocked the brakes to her wheelchair, she jolted awake.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“You fell asleep at the party, Nana,” I told her. “I’m taking you inside so you can be more comfortable.”

“Lord,” she remarked. “I haven’t passed out cold at a party since well before your time.”

“Okay, Nana.” I laughed, filing that piece of information away in the part of my brain I liked to label “things I didn’t care to know about my grandmother.” Every single one of her leers resided there.

“I guess I overdid it with the rum and sodas,” she explained.

“Well, you’re wiser, now,” I told her. “And today’s been a big day. I’m even thinking about going to sleep.”

“Nana, I thought you said you wanted another cocktail,” another partygoer said, approaching us with a red cup full of soda and ice. “I made this one extra strong, just like you asked me.”

“Whoops,” Nana commented.

“You mean you’re drinking rum and sodas right now?” I screeched, outraged. How could I have missed this? We were sitting right next to each other. Was I really so distracted by the food and revelry—and the sight of a happy, relaxed Devon—that I didn’t notice my own grandmother getting lit beside me?

“We’re on vacation,” she offered.

“Nana, Milo is going to murder me,” I said, pulling her out and away from the table and wheeling her around toward the cottage. “If he doesn’t murder me, he’s definitely going to murder you. Alcohol is the number one worst thing you could have on your diet.”

“His job is to keep me alive,” she said dismissively. “He’s not going to murder me. Definitely not if he never finds out.”

“He’s going to throw me in jail for letting you do this to yourself,” I told her, rolling my eyes at Devon, whose shoulders were shaking with barely repressed laughter. “Is that what you want, Nana? For your granddaughter to spend the rest of her life in jail because of elder abuse?”

“I’m not abused, I’m buzzed,” she argued, and Devon guffawed so loud, it momentarily drowned out the music.

I tried to glare at him, but I had to laugh, too—albeit behind Nana’s back so she couldn’t see me.

“You’re not going to be so buzzed when Milo says you can’t follow the rules,” I told her, wheeling her away from the party and into the relative quiet of the cottage, carefully negotiating the handful of stairs.

“I’ll do extra exercises in the morning,” she said. “I need to have fun every once in a while. You’re the one who told me that.”

“You better not tell Milo I told you that,” I warned her, easing her wheelchair into her snug little room.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

I helped her out of her clothes, pulling her pajamas from the drawer where I’d folded them earlier today. It was still hard to believe we were in Hawaii. Once she was safely in her nightgown, I helped her gingerly into bed.

“You’ve never asked me about your parents,” Nana said suddenly as I tucked her in, unable to separate this moment from all the times she’d tucked me into my own bed as a child.

“I’m not interested in my parents,” I said lightly. It was funny how time changed things. I’d once burned with the desire for this piece of knowledge. I realized that I didn’t so much as know their names beyond the last name I’d been given.

“You should be,” she said. “They’re your family.”

“You’re my family.”

“Yes, but one day, I’m not going to be around anymore.”

“Are you going to move in with some hot lover, Nana?” I joked.

“Very funny.” She had a faraway look in her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” I’d been at her side for every stage of her unstoppable illness, but the idea that she wouldn’t be with me someday still seemed impossible.

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you want to talk about it. It’s something we have to talk about. Wouldn’t you want to know how to connect with your family after I’m gone?”

“Not really, Nana, no.”

“But family’s important, June. What about your mother?”

I sighed. What I did know about my family history was that my mother was Nana’s daughter—her real daughter—that she had been so disappointed in that she had taken me away to raise on her own. The way Nana told it—or didn’t tell it—was that my biological mother had quite eagerly given me up.

“Nana, you’re more of a mother to me than she ever was,” I said. “You’re all the family I need. I don’t want to reconnect with my parents. They didn’t care enough about me in the first place. Why should I care about them? Now, get some rest. We’ve had a long day, and you’re tired.”

“I suppose I am tired,” she allowed. “Good night, June. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Nana,” I said, an unexpected lump forming in my throat. What was wrong with me? What was going on with Nana? We’d never talked like this before. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought that she was preparing to go and die on me. At least I could blame this sudden spurt of sentimentality on rum.

“June?” she called as I was easing the door to her room shut.

“Nana?” I poked my head back in. “Do you need something else?”

“You’re awfully hard on Devon, you know.”

I took a few moments to turn that statement over in my brain. “How do you mean?”

“He’s obviously head over heels for you.”

I snorted. “Highly unlikely, Nana.” There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hot hell that Devon was in love with me. Did he want to have sex with me? Yes—that much was clear to me. But it wasn’t because he was in love with me. It was because I was a novelty to him, a completely ordinary woman who somehow kept turning him down. He was used to women throwing themselves at him, and I was a refreshing departure from the norm. That was the extent of the attraction. That was all.

“Open your eyes, June. He’s in love with you. Why else would we be here, in Hawaii, with him?”

“It’s really complicated, Nana.” She obviously had been picking up on some of the words Devon and I had been exchanging, the feelings we cycled through together, but I couldn’t pinpoint how much she knew about everything. It wasn’t a conversation I felt like having with her.

“Devon’s a nice boy,” she said. I almost turned the light back on just to see what kind of expression she had on her face. She had to have been joking.

“He tries to be a nice boy, maybe,” I allowed, “but he doesn’t succeed very often.”

“Look at where we are, girl,” Nana said. “Hawaii. I’ve never seen somebody try so hard in all my life. You should let him know, at least.”

“Let him know what?”

“That you see him trying. That you know it’s hard for him. Everyone struggles differently. You should know that.”

“Nana, the only struggling Devon does is deciding if he wants the filet mignon or the lobster tail, and then orders both just because he can.” I sighed. “You really need your rest, now.”

“Think about it, June.”

“I will if you promise to try and go to sleep.” It was like babysitting a child with her sometimes. I had to cajole her to do things.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

I shut the door and turned to face Devon, who had been standing there in the hallway for God only knew how long.

“I’d choose the lobster tail,” he said, his face unreadable. “I like seafood better than steak.”

“I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” I said, feeling sheepish and shitty.

“But you meant to say it.”

I sighed. “I don’t know what I meant to say. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he said.

“For what?” What could he possibly be sorry for? He’d taken Nana and me to Hawaii, for God’s sake.

“For this.” He stepped forward quicker than I could react and kissed me square on the lips. He stepped away just as fast, putting some space between us.

I was so surprised and dazzled that I saw bursts of light behind my eyelids in the dim hallway. It was probably just the jet lag, and that I was tired from everything we’d done today. Or it might’ve been just how good that kiss felt. How right.

“You can kick me square in the balls,” he said seriously. “But I had to do it, June. I had to kiss you. I had to know what it was like.”

“And?” I whispered.

“And what?”

“What was it like?”

He was silent for several long moments, looking down at his feet, gauging his response.