Flying the Dragon (18 page)

Skye was already nodding. “I’ll take careful notes, and then—”

Grandfather closed his eyes, and both Skye and Hiroshi fell silent. Waiting. Was he asleep again? He smiled before he opened his eyes again. “I won’t discuss it any longer. You are both ready. I ask for your promise.”

Skye and Hiroshi looked at each other then back at Grandfather.

“
Yakusoku,
” they said.

Of all the Japanese words Skye had learned since she met Grandfather, “promise” was the hardest to say.

Hiroshi sat on the front porch step, waiting. Father had called to say that he and Grandfather were on their way home, but that was a half hour ago. Where were they? Mother and First Uncle came out onto the porch.

First Uncle had dropped Skye off at Japanese school this morning. At least she wouldn’t be around if Grandfather felt well enough to fly the dragon. Mother had said that Grandfather might be tired when he first got home. But Hiroshi knew the dragon and the wind were like medicine to Grandfather. Hiroshi couldn’t let go of hope.

Finally a car pulled up to the house, followed by a truck—but Hiroshi didn’t recognize either one. He felt Mother’s hand on his shoulder.

“This is the woman we told you about.” Father had told him that a lady would show them how to make Grandfather more comfortable at home. Hiroshi already knew how to do that: take him back to Japan.

Two big men got out of the truck, circled around to the back end, and yanked open the doors. A tall lady stepped out of the car, carrying a briefcase. Hiroshi, Mother, and First Uncle watched in silence as the lady clicked up the front walk in her high heels.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Tsuki.” The lady smiled and tucked her hair behind one ear. She’d pronounced their last name the American way, with a t-sound:
tuh-SOO-kee.
She should have said
tzoo-kee,
of course. No one corrected her.

“Please, come in,” Mother said.

The lady walked in, her quick eyes sweeping over the front room, and then she turned. She smiled at Hiroshi. “I’m Fran Grimley. It’s nice to meet you….”

“Hiroshi.” He held out his hand, remembering that Americans didn’t bow. Mother cleared her throat and he remembered to add, “Hello, Mrs. Fran.”

Hiroshi knew right away that he’d made a mistake. Too late, he remembered that Americans say their given name first, like that was more important than their family name. “I mean, Mrs. Grimley.”

She gave him a warm smile. “You can call me either one.” Hiroshi nodded, wishing Father would hurry up and get here with Grandfather.

“Well, then.” Mrs. Grimley turned back to Mother and First Uncle. “I know you’ve been told how the hospice program works, but I’m glad to answer any questions you may have.” Hiroshi frowned.
Hospice
sounded a lot like
hospital.

Mrs. Grimley stepped into the front room. “We’ll have the bed set up in no time, and I’ll show you how it works.” Her eyes ran to the top of the stairs. “We recommend the bed be set up downstairs. Would you like it here, in the living room?”

Hiroshi knew they were bringing a special bed for Grandfather. But in the living room? Maybe Hiroshi had misunderstood.

First Uncle nodded. “Yes, that will be fine.”

“Grandfather doesn’t like beds,” Hiroshi said. “He says his futon is fine for him.”

Mother turned to him. “Hiroshi, why don’t you go and ride your bike?” He expected her to scold him for being rude, but her eyes were sad. “You can watch for Father and Grandfather. They should be here soon.”

That was fine with him. Hiroshi didn’t want to miss the moment when Grandfather found out about the living-room bed. He’d send it back, for sure. Hiroshi swung open the door, and then stopped. One of the men from the truck had his stubby thumb poised to ring the doorbell.

“Hello there, Son.”

Hiroshi pointed to the bed. “We do not need that. Thank you.” Too bad they had unloaded it for nothing.

“Hiroshi.” He heard the warning in Mother’s voice. “Your bike?” She nodded towards the garage.

He brushed past the men, leaving them and their bed behind. As soon as he stepped around them, he saw Father getting out of the car.

“Grandfather, you’re home!” Hiroshi ran to Grandfather’s door and yanked it open.

Grandfather leaned out and peered at the sky. “It is a good day for flying, isn’t it?”

Father shut the trunk. “Hiroshi, would you give me a hand?”

“Sure—” He took a step toward Father, then stopped. “What’s that?” He didn’t know why he’d asked, because he already knew.

Father unfolded the wheelchair with a snap. Hiroshi stared, not wanting to touch it. He barely noticed when Father came around to help Grandfather out of the car.

“How do you like my new wheels?” Grandfather nodded in the direction of the chair. In Hiroshi’s mind, he could see Grandfather running next to him through the village streets—back in Japan, laughing and racing like kites on the wind. How could this be the same Grandfather?

“Hiroshi?” Father pointed his chin toward the chair. Hiroshi pushed the chair over to where Grandfather stood. Father had one hand under Grandfather’s arm and the other around his waist. He lowered Grandfather into the chair as if he were made of glass. Grandfather was breathing fast, like he’d been chasing kites all morning.

Hiroshi pushed the chair up the walk, then came to a stop at the front step.

“We’ll need to get a ramp,” Father said.

“I can help you lift him—it’s only one step.”

Father shook his head. “It’s too heavy.”

“No, it’s not—I can do it.” Hiroshi knelt on one knee and gripped the handlebars from up underneath, his elbows pointing toward the ground. “Okay, I’m ready. You get the front end.”

“No, Hiroshi—it’s too heavy. Grandfather could fall. Let me ask the men who delivered the bed. They must be inside.”

“I can do it!” Hiroshi said. “I won’t let him fall.”

“Enough.” Grandfather’s eyes flashed. He placed one hand on either arm of the chair, and scooted himself forward until he perched on the edge of the seat. “You do not need to talk as if I weren’t here. I can do it myself.”

The breeze paused, holding its breath.

Grandfather’s arms trembled as he began to lift himself.

Father stepped forward. “Here—let me—”

“I said I can do it.” Grandfather’s voice held the promise of anger, like gathering winds before a storm. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. Hiroshi wished he could command the wind to lift Grandfather to his feet. But the breeze just tiptoed away like a coward.

Grandfather finally stood up—not straight, but at least he was up. When he looked at Hiroshi, his face relaxed into a real smile. “Not bad for an old man!” He rested a shaky foot on the step. “I might need a hand. Just this once.” His voice was soft again.

Hiroshi held out his arm, and Grandfather leaned on him. He no longer towered over Hiroshi—had Hiroshi grown, or was Grandfather shrinking?

“We’re home!” Father called, opening the front door.

Hiroshi leaned in close to Grandfather’s ear. “Some men brought a bed for you.” He waited for Grandfather to protest.

“I know. They told me at the hospital.” Grandfather nodded and patted Hiroshi’s arm.

Hiroshi frowned.
Grandfather already knows? Why isn’t he angry?

Mrs. Grimley and her shoes tapped into the room, followed by Mother and First Uncle. Mrs. Grimley held out her hand to Grandfather, but he didn’t take it. He bowed—no, more like a quick nod—and frowned. Now Grandfather would tell the lady he didn’t want the bed. Hiroshi bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t smile.

Mother translated the part about the bed to Grandfather.

“Thank you.” Grandfather nodded again.

Thank you? Is that all he has to say?

“You’re welcome.” Mrs. Grimley looked as if sleeping in a hospital bed right there in the living room were perfectly normal.

“I’ve explained everything to your son and daughter-in-law, sir, but I’d be happy to show you how it all works.”

Father translated her words to Grandfather, who put his hand on Hiroshi’s shoulder. “Please tell her that I thank her for her time. But I have an appointment with my grandson. Now, if you all will excuse us, we’ll be on our way.” He turned to Hiroshi. “Why don’t you run up and get the dragon kite?”

Hiroshi sprinted up to his room, taking three steps at a time—he didn’t want to give Grandfather time to change his mind. When he flew back down the stairs with the kite in his hand, the adults all stopped talking at the same time. Mrs. Grimley wasn’t smiling anymore, and neither was Mother. First Uncle looked like he’d just swallowed the words he wanted to say, and Father’s eyes pleaded with Grandfather.

Grandfather smiled at Hiroshi. “Shall we?” Hiroshi held out his arm for Grandfather, and together they stepped outside, where the wheelchair was waiting.

“We’d better take the chair,” Grandfather said. Hiroshi’s heart sank. First the bed, now the chair. Grandfather lowered himself into the wheelchair, and Hiroshi handed him the dragon kite. “They’d never forgive me if I refused the chair, too.” He looked back at the window, where Hiroshi’s parents and First Uncle stood with Mrs. Grimley. Grandfather smiled at them and waved. They waved back but didn’t smile.

“Especially since I told them I won’t be sleeping in that bed.”

Hiroshi started pushing the chair down the driveway. “You really told them that? I knew you’d send the bed back!”

Grandfather chuckled. “Oh, I didn’t send it back. I told them they could put it anywhere they wanted to. But I won’t be sleeping in it.” Hiroshi laughed. “Bad for my health—I’d fall out and break something for sure.” Grandfather smacked the arm of the chair twice. “Doesn’t this thing go any faster?”

Hiroshi grinned and broke into a jog. “Hang on!” The wind tugged at the edges of the kite, but Grandfather held it down. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Hiroshi slowed, then leaned forward to look at Grandfather. “Are you okay, Grandfather?”

He opened one eye and smiled at Hiroshi. “I’m wondering what it would be like to be a kite—to be carried by the wind.”

“I’ll show you.” Hiroshi began jogging again, faster this time. He laughed along with Grandfather, wishing the wind could lift them both into the air.

When the park came into view, Hiroshi hesitated before crossing the street. Although he knew Skye was at Japanese school today, he still half expected her to be there on the hill. But other than two boys playing basketball, there was no one else around.

“It looks like we’ve got the hill all to ourselves,” Grandfather said, smiling.

“Right.” Hiroshi usually cut straight up the hill over the grass, but he knew he couldn’t make it with Grandfather’s wheelchair. Instead, he followed the longer path that gently wound to the top.

Grandfather handed him the kite. “The wind is strong enough for a solo launch.” Grandfather was right; Hiroshi got the kite into the air on his first try.

“Nicely done, Hiroshi!” Although Hiroshi had his eyes on the dragon kite, he could hear the smile in Grandfather’s voice.

“It looks good, doesn’t it, Grandfather?”

“It is flying well today.” Hiroshi looked back at Grandfather—and had to look down. He’d forgotten Grandfather was not standing, but sitting in the wheelchair.

“Hiroshi!” He turned to see Ravi running up the path.

“Hi, Ravi.”

“You are back! I see your kite from my window.” Ravi pointed to a beige house with dark-green shutters across the street. Then he looked up at the dragon. “Is a beautiful kite.”

Grandfather cleared his throat.

“Ravi, this is my grandfather.” Then he switched to Japanese: “Grandfather, this is my friend Ravi. He’s in my English class at school. He used to fly kites, too, in India.”

“Hello, sir.” Ravi pressed the palms of his hands together and dipped his chin.

Grandfather smiled and nodded. “Ravi, it is nice to meet you.”

Ravi gazed up at the kite. “May I try?”

Hiroshi hesitated and glanced at Grandfather.

“Go ahead, Hiroshi,” Grandfather said. “You can show him what he needs to do.”

Hiroshi handed the reel to Ravi, who beamed.

“Thank you.” Ravi squinted into the sun, then looked at Hiroshi like he was trying to think of the right words. “Is been a long time, but I think I remember how to fly.” The dragon began a lazy fall, as if sensing that less-skilled hands were now in control. Ravi reeled in the line until it was taut, but the dragon continued to drop.

“Give more line.” Hiroshi kept his eyes on the kite.

“More?” Ravi sounded unsure.

“Yes, the kite will go up. You will see.” Ravi let the line go slack, and sure enough, the kite found a gust of wind and began to rise.

Hiroshi remembered what Grandfather always said: “You can’t force a kite to obey. Sometimes you must trust it to find its way.”

Hiroshi tried to think of the words in English. “Sometimes you let the kite fly by himself. He knows how to fly.” Ravi nodded and grinned.

“Ravi!” The wind carried a boy’s voice up the hill from the basketball court.

Ravi waved, then pointed to the dragon. “Hey! Look at the kite!”