Side Effects May Vary

harvey, this is my gift to you. and who knows, maybe it’s not anything you want. but before you let your eyes skip forward, read this: my weird-shaped-doesn’t-fit-into-a-box-sometimes-angry heart loves you, and whatever comes next, i want to be there. on whatever terms you decide. it’s okay if you don’t want to know what i have to say. it’s okay. but if you want to know, skip to the bottom of the page.

I fished a piece of ice out of the bottom of my glass and chewed on it. She loved me. And it didn’t feel like a condolence prize. This time it was a promise, and the only thing that would make it better was to hear her say it out loud. I touched my fingers to the page, letting my skin absorb each letter.

Okay.

William Joseph Porter is your grandfather. i don’t know who or where your dad is, but Porter was the only family i could find. but he’s YOUR family. it doesn’t have to be now or this week or whatever, but he comes here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday around 4 if you decide you want to know him.

I stood up and shoved the note into my pocket. I had a grandfather. A living grandfather. A laugh slipped out of my lips, and I slapped a hand over my mouth. I took a step toward the piano, then doubled back. I didn’t know what to say to him or what I expected us to be. And my mom. I had to talk to my mom. I couldn’t go behind her back on this. All of these possibilities and it had been Alice who had given them to me.

I wasn’t ready to know Porter. I didn’t know when I would be. But thanks to Alice, I knew where to find him. I needed to talk to someone, and there was one person who I wanted that to be.

If possible, the ride back felt even longer than the ride to Alton. The summer sun fell in the sky, flirting with the horizon.

My grandfather. I had a grandfather.

I didn’t know what to do, but I knew where to go.

Alice’s house added about ten minutes to the drive.

I sat at the last light before her house, waiting forever for it to turn green. I swear to God, the lights skipped right over my street. Rolling out to the middle of the intersection, I looked both ways and floored it.

When I got to her house, I parked and turned off the car all in one motion. I fumbled with the seat belt, remembering the day I came here after she’d found out she was in remission. She’d watched me through a window, like a ghost, as her dad told me It’s gone.

I shaded my eyes with my hand and ran up the driveway, and this time she was there, waiting for me. Alice sat on the steps of the porch with her knees pulled into her chest.

I stopped less than a foot away. I couldn’t find words, but it didn’t matter. They wouldn’t have done me any good. The sun dipped down behind her house, bringing her into focus.

Alice stood, closing the gap between us, and whispered in my ear.