“What brings you here today, my dear?” Daddy asks, lowering his newspaper as I lean over to drop a kiss on his cheek.

“I have a date. And I asked him to pick me up here.” I try to keep my tone as nonchalant as possible, as if it’s totally normal for a woman my age to be picked up at her parents’ house.

“A date?” He slides his glasses down his nose and looks at me over the top of the frames. “With whom?”

“Well, it’s funny, Daddy,” I begin, smiling broadly and avoiding his inquiring eyes. “It’s not a real date. It’s kind of this fake-relationship thing I’m doing to help out a friend.” Though I went over and over a completely calm and professional way to tell my parent’s about Erik and I in the car on my way here, it all comes out in a nervous jumble.

Daddy sits up in his chair and tosses his glasses onto his desk. “What do you mean by fake relationship?”

“It’s nothing really. I have this friend who’s going to be deported when his work permit expires in a few months, so, ya know?” I shrug and laugh nervously. I sound like a Valley girl from those horrible ’80s movies my friends and I watched at sleepovers. This couldn’t have started off any worse.

“Back up, Madeline.” Daddy closes his eyes, leans forward onto both elbows, and rubs his temples. “Who is this friend?”

“Erik Raines,” I say, meeting his eyes for the first time since I arrived. I may be nervous about telling Mama and Daddy about our crazy plan, but I’m not embarrassed of Erik.

Confusion crosses Daddy’s face briefly, then understanding. “He told you about his status?”

“Yes,” I say, then quickly add, “but in confidence.”

Daddy closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger. “Who suggested a fake relationship?”

“I did. It’s against the law to marry someone just to keep them in the country, right?” It’s a rhetorical question, so I keep talking. “We thought, well, I thought—it was completely my idea—I thought if we started dating, while we tried to figure out other ways to keep Erik in the country, it would show that it wasn’t a marriage of convenience. Then marriage wouldn’t look so shady.”

“Why is keeping Erik in the country so important?” Mama asks as she enters the den, carrying a heaping plate of food.

I jerk my head toward her, surprise at how unaffected she could be. Erik’s been with us for more than ten years. “Mama, how could you even ask something like that?”

She sets the plate in front of Daddy, then pulls the cloth napkin draped over her shoulder and hands it to him. “He’s a landscaper. Why on earth do you care so much if he stays in this country?”

Daddy interrupts before I can answer. “I can’t believe you, of all people, thought this was a good idea.”

“I know it’s a bit out of character, Daddy, but Erik has worked here so long, he’s practically part of the family. And it’s a harmless solution until we can figure out how to keep him here for good.”

“It’s not harmless. You could get in a lot of trouble over this, Madeline. What you two are doing is illegal.”

“It’s not illegal until we bring the authorities into it and say ‘hey, look at us!’ We aren’t lying to anyone right now. We’re setting the stage in case we have to someday.”

Thankfully, my nerves have settled and I’m able to come at the situation as the business arrangement it is. Talking business with my father is easy for me since I do it daily. I feel like I’m at a conference, offering a solution to a problem. The number one piece of advice I’d give anyone for working with Daddy: if you come to him with a problem, you better have a suggestion for a solution too. Complaining with no ideas to rectify the situation annoys him to no end.

“I’ll look into the situation, so it doesn’t come to that,” Daddy says before popping a potato chip into his mouth.

“Would you like some water, dear?” Mama asks, as she removes glasses from the cupboard above the wet bar.

He nods. “Please.”

“No thanks,” I answer. Pretty sure that “dear” was meant for Daddy, but I had to throw my two cents in. “You will?” I ask, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand. “You’ll help him?”

“Yes. I care about Erik’s welfare, as well. He’s worked hard for everything he has. The last thing I want is to see him deported.”

Mama hands Daddy a glass of water, then slides into the soft, green leather chair across the desk from him. “You’ve always had a soft spot for that boy, Harris.”

“Of course I have, Cookie. We’ve seen him grow up. We’ve seen him through loss. We’ve seen him become a successful man.”

“Sounds like the way you’d talk about a son.” She rolls her eyes as she sips her water.

Daddy dismisses the comment. “He’s not a criminal, Cookie. He had no choice in his situation.”

“Yes, he did. He could have gone back where he came from as soon as he found out he was here illegally.”

Daddy and I both turn to Mama, appalled by another callous remark.

“What do you have against Erik?” I ask.

“I don’t have anything against him personally. But he had the chance to make things right years ago.”

“He did make things right. The Deferred Action program he willingly chose to apply for keeps him here completely legally. He made the decision to make things right with the resources the government has in place.”

“When he turned eighteen, he could have made an adult decision and handled his situation. He could have gone back to where he came from.”

Mama buys into the click-bait—the scare tactics the media throws around without facts. I know, because I used to believe blindly, as well. Like her, I believed that many illegal aliens in the United States were murderers and rapists, or, at the very least, here to steal jobs from able-bodied Americans, then take the money back to their home country. I wasn’t marching outside the White House about it, but deep down, I had those ridiculous, bigoted thoughts. Until Erik told me he was an illegal.

He doesn’t fit into the media-driven stereotypes of an illegal alien. When I researched the statistics of Dreamers—the term used for people who are here through DACA, the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals policy—I realized that most of them are hardworking. They have jobs; they’re getting college degrees. They were brought here illegally; they didn’t make the choice to do something illegal.

“Yes, he could have,” I say, “but why would he? This country is all he’s ever known. He hasn’t been in the Czech Republic since he was a year old!”

“Watch your tone now, Madeline. You may be upset, but I’m still your mama,” Mama says, cool as a cucumber. “I’ve noticed changes in you over the last few weeks, but I didn’t realize what it was until now. I’m concerned that Erik’s influence has not been a positive one.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Erik doesn’t have an influence on me. I am my own person. I make my own decisions.”

“A few months ago, I would have agreed with that, but you never mentioned problems with Trent until after Erik carried you inside after you fell in the pool. It doesn’t make sense.”

“You told me to keep quiet about the pool incident, Mama,” I say sweetly.

Her jaw tightens and she grips her glass tighter. It’s very unlike Mama to lose her cool. It happens, but not very often.

“If something was going on with Trent, you should have come to your father and I.”

Throwing my hands up, I ask, “Why would I expect you to believe my word against his when I saw how you reacted to an eyewitness account of his abuse?”

“The eyewitness being Erik, correct? Which brings me back to my original concern.”

“Let’s just stop right here,” Daddy interrupts.

“Erik and I have a business arrangement that serves both of us. I’m pretending to be his girlfriend until we figure out a better solution to keep him in the country.”

“How does dating the landscaper serve you?” she asks.

“He’s holding me accountable for making better choices.”

“What in the world does that mean, Madeline?” Mama rolls her eyes.

Thankfully, the doorbell interrupts our conversation. The part of me that loves tradition and values bursts with excitement, knowing Erik is standing on the front porch, waiting to pick me up like he might have done when we were teenagers. The other part of me realizes he’s coming into a tense environment I never warned him about.

“That’s Erik,” I say. “We’re going to visit his grandmother.”

“In the nursing home?” Mama asks.

I nod. “Can y’all please let us do this our way? You don’t have to be happy about it, or agree with it, but please accept my choice to help my friend. No matter what you say, I’m sticking to our plan until we find another way.”

“I guess the conversation is over. You’ve always had a beautiful heart, Madeline.” Daddy surprises me with his easy retreat from the subject. He rises from his desk and kisses my forehead as he scoots past me, heading toward the door.

Oh no!

Before I can protest, he swings the front door open. “Erik! Madeline said you’d be picking her up.” Daddy moves aside, giving my fake boyfriend room to enter. “Please, come in.”

“Thanks, Harris.” Erik nods as he steps inside. “Good to see you this morning, Cookie.”

“Hello, Erik. Seeing you here today would have been quite a surprise. But Madeline told us about your arrangement,” Mama says.

“She did?” Erik’s eyes widen and his lips turn up in a small, fake smile as he looks back and forth between Mama and Daddy. He slides next to me, whispering, “You did?”

“Well, if we ever have to prove our relationship, I assume my family will be some of the first people interviewed, right? I thought it would make sense to let Mama and Daddy in on it. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you first.”

“No, it’s okay.” Erik takes my hand reassuringly. “It makes total sense.” He glances at Daddy. “I know it’s not the ideal option, but after the new legislation passed earlier this year, I’m exhausting all my options.”

“We understand,” Daddy says. “You know that I’m always willing to help you, Erik. I’m going to speak with your immigration lawyer next week, see what I can come up with.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

Acting like nothing is wrong is how my parents handle most situations that are thrust upon them with no time to think about how to react. Daddy is calculated and controlled. He doesn’t fly off the handle without thinking. That would only make for more damage control in the long run. Still, it’s going far too smoothly. We should probably leave before Mama says something cold or starts threatening Erik’s job. She loves using the small power she has over him.

“Ready to get going?” I ask, tugging on Erik’s arm.

“Absolutely.” He grabs my hand and we turn toward the door.

“How is Ginny doing, Erik?” Mama asks, picking at the flowers in a tall, slender vase on the table in the foyer.

Erik turns around. “Honestly, the same as she’s been for the last few years, ma’am. She’s never going to get any better, but she’s no worse, I suppose.”

Mama plucks five flowers and hands them to Erik. “Please take these to her. Something to brighten her spirits.”

I don’t know who’s more surprised at her offering, Erik or me. I’ve known Mama for twenty-five-years now, and this shift just about gave me whiplash.

He reaches out, accepting them gingerly. “Thank you. That’s…It’s very thoughtful.”

“Ginny always was a good woman,” Mama says before edging past us. “Excuse me.” The words come out in a whisper as she hurries up the stairs.

“Give Ginny my best,” Daddy says. “I’m going to go check on your mother.”

He follows her up the stairs, taking them two at a time, which is as fast as I’ve ever seen Daddy. What in the world has gotten into Mama?

“Never expected that,” Erik says quietly.

“Me neither.” I glance up the stairs where my parents are completely out of sight. “We should go.”

Erik nods. Once we’re outside, he helps me into his truck, then hands me the flowers to hold. I’m still thinking about Mama’s reaction when Erik climbs in.

“Did Mama and your grandmother have a relationship that I didn’t know about?” The seatbelt clicks into place and I set the flowers on my lap.

“I was about to ask you the same question.”

“How often do you visit Ginny?” I ask.

“Every day.”

“Every day?” I repeat.

Erik glances at me. “Yes. I make sure I’m there to feed her lunch. I know the nurses will do it, but they have so many residents to assist. Plus, it gives me my time with her. With my work schedule, I can never make it for breakfast or dinner. I take a two-hour lunch every day.”

“You do? That’s, wow, that’s so European.” At first, I smile, but when I lift my eyes to Erik’s, I realize my mistake. “I’m so sorry. That was supposed to be a joke, totally unrelated to your situation.”

My stomach tightens. How could I be so insensitive? When am I going to learn to think before I blurt something? Out of all the qualities my parents have that I could have picked up, why couldn’t that have been one of them?

“Is a long lunch a European thing?” he asks. “I didn’t even realize. And I certainly didn’t take offense. Geez, Maddie. Do you think I sit here waiting to pounce on something you say?”

“That’s what I’m used to,” I say quietly.

If Trent were in Erik’s situation, he would have accused me of making a joke about being European as a dig at him and his situation. The years with Trent were a test in how well I could hold my tongue, walk on eggshells, and make sure I’ve delivered my point with the correct tone and inflection, so Trent wouldn’t be angered or offended. If we were around friends, I didn’t care as much, because they always brushed off a ‘faux pas’ with a “That’s just Madeline.” I’d never been offended by it; I always used it to my advantage. Let people think I’m a ditzy fashionista.

“I’m sorry you had to live like that.”

I don’t want to ruin another minute thinking about Trent. I’ve wasted far too much time on that. Instead, I return to the original subject.

“Me too, but I don’t live like that anymore. Thanks to you.” I glance at him, hoping I don’t look too lovesick. Being with him makes everything better. My tension releases. My problems don’t seem as heavy. “It’s wonderful that you make time for your grandma. I never realized you did that.”

“Well, a lot has changed since the last time we had a deep conversation about my grandma.”

“True.” His words are a reminder of how selfish I’d been. And how easy it was to forget him.

“I’m sorry I never asked you how you were doing, Erik. I never—”

“What are you talking about?” Erik’s eyebrows veer together, making him look honestly perplexed. “We rarely saw each other after you went to college, Maddie. You didn’t live with your parents anymore. When would you have had time to ask?”

“I could have made time.”

“It’s not something I dwell on.” He reaches over the console and pats my knee. “We both had busy lives.”

I lace my fingers with his. Everything is so easy. Touching, talking, kissing. I’m not on edge with Erik, and even if I start to feel that twinge, he nixes it immediately.

Once we pulled into the lot at the nursing home, Erik kills the engine and turns to me. “It’s not pretty, Maddie.”

“What?”

“Her life in there. It’s—” He slams his hand against the wheel. “It’s depressing as fuck.”

“I know.” I touch his face, sliding my hand across his cheek. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here with you. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

He grabs my hand and plants a kiss on my palm. “That means the world to me.”

Erik leads me down a hallway to a dank, sterile room with two twin-sized hospital beds separated by nightstands. A frail, skeleton of a woman sits in a wheelchair in the middle of the room, facing a dresser. There’s nothing on the dresser. No photos. No TV. No artwork on the wall above. It’s eerie and heartbreaking.

“Hi, Grandma!” Erik greets her as he strides into the room. He stops next to her chair and presses his lips to her forehead before kneeling down next to her. She doesn’t look at him, but he keeps talking anyway. “It’s cold out there today. You need a blanket.”

He grabs the lavender afghan from the bed and drapes it over her lap. Ginny turns her head, her light brown eyes empty as she looks through her grandson. My heart breaks for him, but Erik smiles, talking to her as if she understands everything. He brushes wiry, white hair from her face and tucks it behind her ears. “We need to get you to the beauty shop, Grandma.”

The smell of hospital food and illness makes my stomach roll. Though it’s an involuntary reflex, in that fleeting moment, I feel like a horrible person. Since I only had a few interactions with her at the holiday parties my family throws for people who do work for our family, I don’t remember Ginny. But she’s the equivalent of Erik’s mama, not some random lady I’m meeting during volunteer work. She’s family, and I need to treat her how I would treat my own grandmother if she were in a facility like this.

“I brought a friend today.” Erik glances up at me with bright eyes and a smile. “This is Maddie. Do you remember, Maddie? She’s one of the Commons girls.”

“Hi, Ginny.” I take a deep breath, sucking up all of my selfishness and stepping toward her slowly. I drop to my knees next to Erik before saying, “My goodness, you look pretty today. I love this sweater. It makes your eyes pop.” I brush my fingers over the pilled, purple wool.

“Purple is her favorite color. Isn’t it?” He glances at me before patting her leg.

“Oh!” I say, suddenly remembering the flowers I’ve been clutching since we left my parent’s house. “These are for you.”

Ginny smiles as I set them onto her lap. It gives me hope that somewhere in the depths of her mind she understands and appreciates them.

Erik stands up, offering me a hand to help me rise. “Let’s get you some lunch.”

As he wheels his grandma’s chair through the hallway, my eyes are locked on the walls—stark white with only a line of maroon three quarters of the way up. When we pass a doorway, I tell myself not to look inside, but I can’t help it. In one room, a resident rocks back and forth, talking and gesturing to a TV that isn’t turned on. My heart hurts, not just for the patients in the facility, but for the people who work here. It takes someone with unlimited patience and a huge heart to devote their life to this work.

Erik turns into the dining room and wheels Ginny up to an empty space at a large, round table. Multiple elderly people sit, scattered at various tables. Most are already eating, some on their own, while others have a nurse’s assistance.

A nurse’s aide calls out, “Oh, Miss Ginny! You’re popular today!”

“Hey, Robin,” Erik greets her. “This is my girlfriend, Maddie.”

This is the first time Erik has introduced me to someone as his girlfriend, and I want to relish it, but the circumstances have me reining it in.

“Hi, Maddie,” Robin says.

“It’s nice to meet you.” I smile, swallowing back the ache in my heart.

It’s Saturday afternoon; I would have thought weekends would be hopping with visitors. Out of all of the people in the room, Erik and I are the only ones who look like we don’t work or live here. I wonder if that’s always how it is or if lunch is just a slow meal.

Erik drags two chairs, set against the side wall, over to our table. He puts one on each side of Ginny and gestures for me to sit. “Be right back. I’m going to grab her tray.”

I nod. Ginny turns her head. At first, I think she’s following Erik, concerned at where he’s going, but she stops when she reaches me.

“Thanks for letting me have lunch with you, Ginny,” I say, following Erik’s lead and speaking to her as I would anyone.

I’m not sure why it seems so hard, she’s a human being. But I don’t think she speaks. In a different situation, my friends would tease me that she is the perfect audience, since I like to talk so much, but it makes my heart ache for Erik. This is his grandmother—the woman who raised him. He’s watched her decline rapidly over the years. He’s watched her lose her ability to communicate.

Both of Daddy’s parents are in great health. They still take vacations and are active in the community. I can’t imagine having to watch someone I love forget me.

Erik returns with a tray of what’s supposed to be food, and I’m appalled. It looks like dollar-store cat food. I must not be hiding my disgust well, because he explains, “She has to have everything pureed. She doesn’t have her teeth anymore. Well, she has dentures, but they’ve been lost so many times, we decided to just leave them out.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense,” I say, trying to smile.

Erik feeds Ginny her entire meal, telling her about what’s going on at work. Then we talk about what we did on a few dates we had.

“They let you throw axes while drinking beer. Isn’t that crazy, Grandma?” he asks. “I can’t imagine what kind of liability insurance a business like that needs, but it sure was fun.”

She doesn’t respond verbally, or even with facial expressions. But she opens her mouth every time he lifts the spoon, so that’s something.

After lunch, we wheel Ginny back to her room. Erik tucks the blanket under her legs to keep her cozy. He kneels beside her and kisses her forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

Though I’ve seen it before—throughout the last hour especially—it’s in that tender moment, I realize without a doubt just what an amazing man Erik is. He’s caring, compassionate, family-oriented, driven, and so loving. He is everything I’ve always wanted in a partner. The feelings I have for Erik aren’t as simple as lust or a silly teenage girl’s crush.

I’m falling in love with Erik Raines.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ginny. I’ll see you again soon, okay?” I say, giving her a small wave as we leave the room.

Erik grabs my hand and we walk down the hallway and out to the parking lot in silence. I’m relieved at the moment to corral my thoughts, because I’m absolutely crushed and have no clue what to say. How in the world does he do this, day after day?

Once we’re inside, the truck, Erik speaks. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when I’m gone. I know she’s getting the care she needs here, but I can’t stand the thought of her not having any visitors.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I know that sounds so stupid. She doesn’t recognize anyone anyway; it’s just that gnawing feeling in my gut. Like, deep down, I believe she knows I’m here, even if she can’t communicate it. Sounds stupid, right?”

“No, not at all.” I slide my palm over his cheek and hold his head up. “We don’t know. That’s the terrible part of the disease, right? We have no clue what’s really going on when a person loses the ability to communicate.”

He nods.

“Don’t worry, Erik. You’re not going to leave her. You’ll be right here, and so will I. I’ll visit her with you, or come at a different time. We can take turns to take some of the stress off you. Whatever makes it easier on you. I’m here.”

“Thank you, Maddie. I know it’s not easy to be there. It’s not easy to see my grandma or any of the other residents. But I really appreciate that you want to help. It means the world to me.”

“Of course, I’ll help, sugar. A relationship isn’t only about the easy parts. It’s support through the tough times, as well.”

Sure, it was uncomfortable for me, because it’s not something I’m used to, but I’ve done enough volunteer work to know that I can handle it. Ginny is family—and family comes before everything.