The cab rolls down the street, my body rocking with each advance the car makes toward my family's home. Three houses down, I spot the herd of family members waiting for me on the front lawn.
I spot my Nana first, waiting with his hands in his pockets to take my bags – and my life – inside. My Nani has her arm interlinked with his, the look on her face one I've never seen before. It scares me.
The taxi stops closer to the neighbors' yard, giving me a moment longer to take in my family before facing them. Khala Willa and her husband are with my grandparents, and so are their sons. Mausi Aarna and her husband wait in the driveway, both of them looking anxious. Before the funeral, I hadn't seen them in years.
The cab's door is pulled open and a hand grabs my arm, pulling me out of the car and against a warm body. My grandmother is quick for her age. She presses my face into her chest, running her hand up and down my back in soothing motions. I wriggle out of her grip and my hand goes to forehead, rubbing at the spot that had been pressed to the cab window since we left the airport.
"Sorry," Nani says, kissing my cheek. "How are you, devadoot? Have you eaten? Do you want to take a nap?" The words rush from her lips.
I shake my head, smiling at her. "Nani. One question at a time," I say to her. "I'm fine,"
She gives me an incredulous look but doesn't have the chance to ask questions as my Khala pulls me into her arms. She presses a kiss to the side of my head before passing me off to her husband.
After two months of living on my own, surviving on my own, it feels amazing to be surrounded by family. To feel the never ending love and support emanating from each of my family members.
Drew pulls me away from his father, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
"I'm so glad you're here," he whispers to me.
"Has it been that boring without me?"
He flicks my forehead. "Don't get cocky,"
Nana, my Mausas and their sons are lugging my things into the house while Nani and Khala Willa try to get my attention from Drew. Mausa Aarna follows the men into the house.
"Kieran, are you hungry?" Khala asks.
I shake my head, but Nani answers for me. "Of course she is," she says with a dismissive laugh.
I stay quiet as we make our way into the house. The scent of biryani and curries wafts from the kitchen. Nani pulls me through the entryway and places me into a seat at the table, in between Nana and Drew. The room is warm, bordering on hot, and I think about taking off my sweatshirt. That thought is quickly discarded.
As our grandmother starts dishing up, my cousin nudges my shoulder. I don't look over but lean a little closer.
"Have you spoken to Lucas?" he asks me, his words hushed.
"I just got here,"
"Does he know you're here yet?"
I shake my head.
"Have you guys been keeping in contact?"
I shake my head again. "He's not the 'keep in contact' type. Not anymore,"
"Oh." He seems disappointed. "I thought he might've reached out,"
So did I. "Nope,"
"Andrew, stop whispering," his mother says from the sink. "The two of you can gossip later,"
Lunch consists of questions about my plans for the fall; whether or not I'll be staying in Concord, where I'll be attending college. I don't answer anything, mostly because I have no say in the matter. All of that depends on Doctor Lassiter.
My Nana and Nani are quiet for the most part, only jumping in when Drew suggests that I stay with them in New York after the summer. Khala and her husband offer to be great hosts, but Nani doesn't agree.
After lunch, I tell Nani that I'm going to take a nap but as soon as their backs are turned, I make my way out of the back door. Venturing into the yard, I make my way to the bench on the side of the house.
I've spent every summer in Concord for as long as I can remember. My favorite spot in the yard has always been on the side of the house where I have the best view of the lake on the other side. My Nana built this bench a few years ago and placed it right here so I could sit in the shade.
I love the sun. I always have. However, I can't really sit in the sun with a sweatshirt without overheating, so the bench being in the shade is perfect.
Pulling my phone from my shorts' pocket, I lay flat on my back and stare out at the water. Alexia hasn't answered my text letting her know that I've made it safely, so I send a follow up asking if she's still planning on coming before next weekend.
The purr of a bike's engine, a sound I know a little too well, puts my head on a swivel. A big, black motorcycle rolls past our yard and stops in front of the house next door.
He got a new bike.
He pushes down the kickstand and pulls off his helmet, placing it on the back before hopping off. As he makes his way onto the lawn, I make three observations.
He cut his hair, curls nowhere to be seen.
He's bigger than he was last summer.
He wears shorts now.