That boy in the photo is not a boy I’ve faced recently. Working with my therapist, it’s almost hard to see something like this and not immediately wish I could reach through the paper, shake that boy by the shoulders, and give him all the tools he needs to survive what’s ahead. To make better choices. To build better relationships.
I never want to hear Grandma say she’d settle for a window over a door into my life. There shouldn’t even be a door. No wood or keys or hinges between us. I want to leave all that in the past. There should only be a clear pathway from now on.
Maybe those lesson-bringing ghosts I summoned when I arrived weren’t as literal as Scrooge’s, but it seems they’ve come all the same. Showing me important forgotten moments to inform my present and illuminate my way into the future. Whatever that may hold.
I’m about to ask Grandma about her struggling shop when Hector arrives in the hallway, breaking up my revelation.
The squall must’ve died down, though remnants of it linger on his coat and his long eyelashes. He smiles at the two of us, as usual, clad in plaid. That smile deserves a shrine, I swear.
Looking at him, taking him in, my future unfurls in a mental scrapbook of memories not yet made. To my delight, Hector’s featured in every perfect shot.
Maybe Santa was right. The power of foresight was inside me all along. It just took a provocative nudge to knock it loose.
“Hey. I’d like to get over to the college before another patch of this snow comes through. Wendy’s team has been working all day. Can you be ready to go in five?” he asks me.
“Sure,” I say, smiling. “Thank you for these. And for this,” I tell Grandma.
“Of course, dear. I can’t wait to see what you create with them,” she says and kisses me on the forehead.
Chapter 27
My fingers cramp from all the cutting, taping, gluing, and hanging.
All the photos from Grandma’s helpful collection were sorted into piles and tagged, and each given a special place among my Past exhibit. My sketch comes to life one trip up the ladder at a time.
The entryway walls are a collage starting with the oldest at the exterior doors and leading to the most recent, almost like a time machine. I pasted some onto glittery snowflakes, inspired by the ones from the diner (only classier), and hung them from the ceiling using fishing wire to make a magical snowstorm of memories floating down on the guests as they arrive. The snowflakes will sway with the passing breeze. With the right lighting, it’ll be an exquisite scene.
Before I pack up my supplies and move to my next task, I notice the photo of me in my choir robe from all those years ago. There are so many reasons to be embarrassed by this. Chief among them my tragic bowl cut and my chubby cheeks, but there’s a gentleness about this boy that I miss.
That’s enough to send me back toward the 2010s section. I find one spot on the wall where my picture will fit without looking out of place, and I tack it there without another thought. Most people won’t notice it, and even if they do, they won’t be able to identify me from the missing baby teeth and unruly smile, but I’ll know. I’ll remember. That’s what matters.
“Is that you?” comes Hector’s voice from behind me.
I turn to see him standing there, shivering a little. Cute as hell in a hat with fuzzy flaps that fall over his ears. I don’t even think about lying to save myself the embarrassment. I’m proud of who I am and where I’ve been. “Yeah.”
He steps closer to get a better look. “You were adorable.”
“Were?” I scoff.
“Are.” He smiles back at me. “You did an incredible job, dude.”
“Thank you.”
“Even better than your sketches. People are going to be blown away.” While I love the compliment, the fact that I’ve impressed him means more than anyone else’s opinion. The awe in his eyes as he tips his head upward to take it all in makes my heart swell. “If you’re all finished, you’re needed outside.”
“Lead the way,” I tell him, snatching my coat from one of the nearby folding chairs. He extends a hand, and I happily take it.
Outside, Wendy and the team are joined together on the lawn. Boots crunch in the leftover snow. Everyone tugs their scarves tighter to their necks. Now that they’re not working and moving, the cold is creeping in, and everyone is antsy to get home.
“We wanted you to be here when we did this,” Wendy says, holding the ends of two different wires. The plug and the receiver. “We’ve still got some taping down and weatherproofing to do, and the carpet can’t be rolled out quite yet, but the majority is done.”
Hector tugs me forward. I stand next to Wendy, peering around at all the dormant lights. I’m bouncing with excitement.
“3…2…1!” she shouts.
The college comes alive, shining out for all to see.
Lights race around the archway of the entrance, pulsating. A fence of garland loops around the main parking lot. The stone clock face above the double doors is surrounded by a beautiful wreath that’s winking blue and white.
