Sadie slips into the seat across from me, sliding me the salad she ordered while I grabbed a table outside the restaurant. Overhead, the midday sun is pale in the rich springtime sky.
I pull off the top of the container with a happy sigh. “You’re an angel, Sadie Choi. I Venmoed you.”
Lovingly full-naming her doesn’t offer the distraction I hoped for. Her eyebrows drop into a frown. “What did I tell you about your sneaky Venmo tactics? Stop paying me back for things I want to pay for.”
I spear a bite of lettuce and chicken, my cheeks heating. “I can’t have a twenty-dollar pity salad on my conscience, okay?”
Though she’s wearing white heart-shaped sunglasses, I know her brown eyes are soft behind the lenses. “There’s no such thing as pity between best friends. I love treating you, and I’m the one who invited you today in anticipation of good news from your interview. So, just so you know, I’m going to decline your payment.”
“Just so you know, the interview was a bust.” I give her a breezy grin that belies my panic. Sitting in that stuffy conference room while the hiring manager listed tasks boring enough to make my soul shrivel up, I wondered for the four hundredth time why the hell I can’t figure out how to adult successfully.
Sadie pushes a strand of straight black, chin-length hair behind her heavily adorned ear. “All the more reason to treat you.”
“If you want to treat me, give me copious amounts of free alcohol.”
Her response is interrupted by my phone chiming. I look down, inhaling sharply, and anticipation dumps into my veins. It’s a TikTok message notification.
“Saved by the bell?”
“Literally.”
After several days of back-and-forth with who I’ve confirmed is Paul’s grandson, every notification comes with a fight-or-flight chaser. In addition to exchanging messages, he’s sent through several pictures of a man who matches up to the Paul in Gram’s photos.
Yesterday I asked if Paul would be willing to speak with me. I nearly chickened out, and the silence I got in return made me question my brazenness. Though I wouldn’t call Paul’s grandson a prolific pen pal—his responses are short, leached of personality, very bot-like—his turnaround time has been quick.
Until now. Twenty-six hours he’s let my request hang. I’m almost afraid to open his reply.
“Get it together, Noelle,” I mutter as Thomas joins us, a plastic bag swinging from his fingertips. He and Sadie both work in downtown San Francisco, though Thomas works from home two days a week. When I lived—and worked—in the city, we met up often for lunch and happy hours.
Thomas slides into a seat, pushing his hair from his forehead. It’s a lost cause; it’s thick and getting surfer-boy long, so gravity always pulls it back. “Hey, kids. This lunch is officially the best part of my day thanks to you.” He flashes a brilliant smile at Sadie, then turns to me. “And you’re here, too.”
I roll my eyes. Sadie technically belonged to Thomas first; they met during college and immediately fell head over ass for each other. But as soon as she and I met, it was clear we were the ones who were meant to be. Thomas and I have spent the past five years vying for Sadie’s ultimate affection. I’m confident I’m losing, but it doesn’t stop me from trying, if only to annoy my brother.
After leaning over to accept Thomas’s kiss, her attention returns to me. She brandishes her fork at my phone. “Open the message!”
Thomas rustles around in his plastic bag, pulling out a sandwich and a bag of chips. “What message?”
“Paul’s grandson wrote her back.”
“Teddy?” Somehow his mouth is already full of chips, and they spray out in a disgusting arc.
Sadie’s eyebrow raises. “Teddy?”
I’ve given Sadie the whole story, with updates texted as they happen, but I only found out his name yesterday. Something about learning it, knowing I was that much closer to uncovering a new secret about Gram, sent me on an emotional bender.
So I took a hike, literally. It’s what I do whenever the grief threatens to wrap its hand around my neck and choke me. I hit whatever trail makes me think of her most—ones we hiked together religiously—and walk myself into exhaustion. Then I cry it out at the peak so there’s no chance Dad will see. Watching his eyes fill with his own sadness and empathy for mine became unbearable quickly. Hours-long hikes are my escape and sanity.
After I returned from my six-miler at Mt. Tam, I fell into bed, exhausted in too many ways to count, and forgot to update Sadie.
Still, getting every detail matters to her. She’s been obsessed with this story since I told her about it.
Thomas pipes up before I can appropriately grovel. “That’s his name, allegedly. Could be a fake. Noelle gave a fake name.”
“I did not!” I regret ever telling my brother any of this. “I said my name was Elle. It’s a half-true name.”
“Teddy is for chubby babies and little old dudes,” Thomas says. “If this guy is supposed to be Paul’s grandson, he’s probably our age. He gave you a whole fake name.”
Sadie puts her hand on Thomas’s arm to quiet him down. “Open the message.”
I narrow my eyes at Thomas when he lets out a scoffing noise, then open the app.
My message from yesterday is there:
I’m glad Paul saw the video and liked it. That means a lot. You said he was open to speaking with me? I’d love to talk to him ASAP. I’m in the Bay Area, not sure where you’re located. We could speak on the phone or video chat, or whatever he’s up for.
And underneath, Teddy’s response:
We’re in the Bay too. My granddad wants to meet with you in person. Are you willing/available to meet in the city? Send times that work for you if so.
“Oh my god.”
I don’t realize I’ve shouted it until everyone at neighboring tables looks over at us.
“What?” Sadie shouts back.
“They live here. I mean, Paul does, who cares about his grandson.” I set my phone facedown on the table, overwhelmed. “He wants to meet with me.”
“You have to do it.” Sadie leans forward. Next to Thomas’s swimmer’s shoulders, she looks bite-size, but her excitement adds a good three inches to her five feet.
“This is a murder plot,” Thomas says with equal parts assertion and disinterest.
“Counterpoint.” Sadie holds a finger up in his face. “She could meet the love of her life.”
“Paul?”
“His grandson.” Exasperated, she leans back. “Dude, come on. Have you not paid attention to any of the rom-coms we’ve ever watched?”
Thomas gives her a meaningful look, flicking his eyes to me and back again. “Are you seriously asking me that?”
Sadie flushes, and I throw a balled-up napkin at my brother’s head. “Gross. Come on.”
They start bickering lovingly, so I pivot my attention.
My stomach pulls tight as I reread the exchange. Paul wants to meet me. This is exactly the outcome I wanted, though I never anticipated it would happen. It’s like playing the lottery once and hitting the jackpot; it feels impossible, and yet you play because you know there’s a chance, right?