During the drive, I barely spoke.
"What if he doesn't recognize me?" I finally asked.
Luis laughed.
"He will."
Nick was sitting beside a window when I walked into the room.
He was thin.
Much thinner than the boy in my memory.
His hair was white, his hands spotted with age, and an oxygen tube ran beneath his nose.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then his eyes moved over my face.
A small smile appeared. "You took your time."
I laughed.
It came out as a sob.
Nick's smile trembled.
Then he held out his hand.
I crossed the room and took it, but that wasn't enough.
I bent down and hugged him.
Nick's arms came around me.
And suddenly 55 years disappeared.
Not completely. Nothing could ever give them back.
But for a moment I could smell lake water and summer grass, and I could hear Tommy arguing with Ray while four boys promised one another something none of us understood would become important.
