“What about boyfriends? Surely you’ve had a few of those.”
“Maybe. But no boy’s ever felt important enough to bring here.”
“You brought me.”
“You’re different,” I say before thinking better of it.
“You’redifferent,” he says, smiling down at me.
Butterflies flap hopeful wings in my stomach. It’s strange to feel happiness amid this place drenched in somber memories. Strange, but not wrong. “Nicky would’ve liked you,” I say.
“You think so?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m Afghan.” As if that explains everything.
“Yeah, and my brother deployed with the best intentions. He was worried and he was afraid, but he wanted to make a difference because he was invested in Afghanistan and its people. He was invested inallpeople. He would’ve loved to have met you.”
“I’m not sure if you said that because it’s true or because you want me to feel good.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, to tell him that the answer to his question isboth; he just barrels on. “Whatever the reason, though, I’m grateful to you for making me feel welcome—both here, and in America.”
I pause on the path, turning to face him. A warm breeze sails by, bringing with it the scent of rich soil and fresh grass and clean boy skin. “Mati,” I say. “I’m glad you’re here.”
His gaze slips from my eyes to my mouth and lingers, and lingers, and lingers. My skin erupts with goose bumps, though the sun is overhead, showering us with heat. If we were different—different people with different histories in a different world—he’d dip his head and kiss me, sweet and tender, mindful of our surroundings, leaving me with a hint of what might come later.
He clears his throat. “Which way, Elise?”
I sigh. I point. We walk on.
After a few minutes, we reach Nick’s plot. Mati stops just before it, but I move forward, stilling only when I’m in front of the headstone.Nicholas Parker, United States Army. I drop to my knees as I always do, just like when I was twelve and I’d walk into his room and fall onto his futon for a dose of fraternal advice.
“Hey, Nicky,” I say conversationally, like I’m talking to my big brother, not a slab of cold marble. And then I go into my usual spiel. An update on our mom. A detailed summary of Janie’s latest talents, and everything I know about what Audrey’s been up to. I tell him about Bambi, too, because when we were kids, he wanted a dog even more than I did.
“And this,” I say, when I’ve finished my report, “is Mati.”
He steps forward and crouches down beside me. “Hello, Nick.”
His tone is so respectful, his voice so saturated with reverence, I could cry.
I fish around in the small front pocket of my camera bag and produce two pennies. I drop one into Mati’s hand. “We always leave pennies,” I say. “For luck, but it’s also a military tradition. Visitors leave a penny to let the soldier’s family know they were here. A nickel says the visitor trained with the soldier in boot camp, a dime says they served together, and a quarter means the visitor was there when the soldier died.”
Mati’s eyes are wide. “Have you ever found coins left by others?”
“Yep. Nicky charmed everyone he met. His funeral was packed with people from San Francisco—friends, teachers, neighbors. Plus, there were tons of soldiers. They came all the way here, mostly from Fort Bragg, which is clear across the country. That day was unbearably sad, but it was comforting, too. Since, I’ve seen a lot of pennies, but also a few nickels and dimes. The grounds crew clears out the coins every once in a while, especially after Memorial Day, when there are lots. I’ve heard the money is donated.”
“That is… incredible.”
I smile. “Right?”
We place our pennies atop the headstone. “Love you, Nicky,” I say as we turn to go.
It’s only after we’ve walked away that embarrassment occurs to me. My time with my brother is personal, and all the talking I do… Maybe it’s weird. Maybe Mati thinks I’m nuts, leaving pennies because tradition says I should. I mean, looking in from the outside, it probably seems like nonsense—why does a dead person need luck?
But he doesn’t appear to be judging. He looks content, peaceful, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
“Thank you for introducing me to your brother,” he says when we step onto the path.
“Like I said, he’d think you’re cool.”
