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I’m not back in college anymore. I’m on my apartment floor, with sheets tangled around my sweat-soaked body.

I take a shaky breath, both relieved and annoyed. It was just a bad dream, nothing more. I haven’t dreamed of the streaking incident in years, but I guess the conversation about the auction triggered the memory.

I push myself up, sit and press my forehead, which throbs with tension, against the heels of my hands. Something wet falls on my thigh, and I realize I was crying in my sleep.

Pull yourself together, girl. Grant isn’t worth another tear. You’ve hurt enough already.

I wipe my face with my fingers. This is so damn embarrassing. I straighten the sheets, then hop into the shower to wash away the film of sweat, along with the remnants of the nightmare. It’s Saturday, a precious day away from Grant.

After the shower, I have a bowl of dry cereal, do a load of laundry and vacuum the place. I hit the grocery store last night after work, which means I have more time than usual. I should visit Grandpa earlier than normal. It’ll be nice to have lunch with him. We haven’t done that in a while.

I put on a cute black tango dress Grandma bought me. It still fits, and I want to be ready in case Grandpa confuses me for Grandma and wants to practice for another upcoming competition. Every time he calls me Kat, my heart aches because we both miss her so much. When he wants to dance, I’m grateful I’m good enough to pretend and let him get lost in happy memories. It’s one of a few things I can still do for him.

When I arrive at the Orange Care Center, Gi-Hoon smiles warmly. “Hi, Aspen. Great day to visit. Kenny’s been in a fabulous mood since he got up.”

“Ooh, good news!” At least Grandpa didn’t have a nasty dream like me. He might’ve had some of his favorites, like the one about when he met Grandma. He said a couple of years ago that he’s the happiest when he dreams of that moment.

When I arrive on the third floor, Grandpa is laughing and clapping at what somebody said. Tears glint in his eyes, and he dabs away at them. It buoys my heart to see him having such a fabulous time. It validates every sacrifice I’ve made to keep him here.

“Hi, Grandpa.” I kiss his cheek. “Don’t you look dashing today?”

“Hello, baby. Kat picked these out. Aren’t they wonderful?” He gestures at his white dress shirt and slacks with a smile. “How’s school?”

He’s back in time again, when Grandma was still alive. But it’s still a relative win because he knows who I am. “Fine. I got an A on my pre-calculus pop quiz,” I say, waggling my eyebrows mischievously.

“Good for you,” he says, giving the air a small punch. “I told you that you could do it.”

A hot lump forms so suddenly in my throat that I can’t speak. I draw in a trembling breath before I can manage a smile. “Yes, you’re right. All I needed was to study a little harder.”

“I’m going to tell your grandma. Maybe it will get her to bake us one of her delicious apple pies.” Bright affection glitters in his eyes. He always loved her pies. “By the way, your boyfriend came by last night.”

“My boyfriend?” Who is he talking about now? I had a couple of boys I hung out with when I was in high school, but I wouldn’t call any one of them a “boyfriend.”

“The bad one.” His lips tighten, and I still have no clue who he’s talking about. I never hung out with any guy he’d deem “bad” when I was in high school. “Infuriating, as usual. Infuriating! He acted all innocent, but I know better. I can just tell with a glance.”

“I know you can,” I say soothingly, rubbing his tense shoulders.

“It wasn’t Zack. But that was fine, because Zack came by too. He drove the jerk away.”

Grandpa thinks that every guy my age is Zack, so I smile. “That was nice of him.”

“Zack was just the fellow to show that other kid.” Grandpa shakes his head. “Cocky. All talk.”

I nod, curious whom he’s confusing Zack with. What he’s saying about a bad guy and Zack coming over and all that never happened. If I didn’t know better, I might think Zack really did come by to see him, but I’ve never told him where Grandpa is.

“So what did that other guy say?” I ask, trying to humor him. It makes him happy to carry on a conversation. Even if it’s about a fake event, I play along. It doesn’t hurt anybody.

“Said hedidn’t do anything. So I told him bringing me some fancy wine and bribing your grandmother with her favorite flowers wouldn’t cut it.”

I fold my hands together so they won’t shake. There’s only one person that could be. “Grant? Grant came to see you?”

“Yes.Grant.” He nods decisively. “A terrible boy, that one.”

He harrumphs, but doesn’t rage like he did when he found out about Grant’s betrayal. It eventually became impossible to hide. I kept delaying going back to school, and Grandpa kept insisting that I go back as soon as possible because that was what Grandma would’ve wanted. When I finally came clean, he erupted with such fury that I was scared he might do something violent.

They say that strong emotion and memories are connected. We remember what impacts us. So even though much of Grandpa’s life since Grandma died is gone now, he might well still recall that Grant was too slick for his taste, even if the details of why are missing.

“Do you know that Kat wants to expand the dance studio?” Grandpa says suddenly. “I told her I was open to anything she wants, but I’m worried we may not find good instructors. I want to maintain a certain level of quality, and…” He fades off. “It’s difficult to find people who can do what your grandmother can.”