What Would You Wish For?

I looked at Claire. I was going to return the question anyway, but not just because she'd asked me first. I was genuinely curious about what her answer would be.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“If you found the Treasure.” I started pushing her chair again. “What would you wish for?”

She didn't answer.

I glanced down at her. Then at the wheelchair.

Well. My bad. I immediately felt stupid for asking.

“You don't have to tell me.”

“Why?”

“Well...” I gestured vaguely toward her chair.

Claire looked down. Then back at me.

“You think I want to walk.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You pointed at my wheelchair.”

“I gesture when I'm nervous.”

“You specifically gestured at my wheelchair.”

Okay. Maybe subtlety wasn't one of my strengths.

“Wouldn't you?”

“No.”

That caught me off guard.

“No?”

“No.”

I waited for her to explain.

She didn't.

Instead, Claire kept rolling forward as if she hadn't just completely destroyed what I'd assumed was the most obvious answer in human history.

“So what would you wish for?”

She was quiet for a moment.

“A world where nobody gets sick.”

I stopped. Claire continued another few feet before noticing and turning around.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You're staring.”

I looked away.

Five minutes ago, I'd been considering rewriting reality so a Japanese celebrity would fall in love with me. Claire wanted to eliminate disease.

I was starting to understand why the Celestials liked her more.

“That's... a pretty big wish.”

“If the Treasure can rewrite reality, I might as well ask for something useful.”

“Right.”

I looked toward the endless sky.

“Useful.”

Ren's photocard was probably still falling somewhere beneath us. I decided not to mention him.

We continued deeper into the ruins.

For a while, neither of us spoke. The path narrowed between enormous white walls covered in golden markings. Vines had grown through cracks in the stone, and blue flowers appeared wherever the sunlight reached.

Then Mochi woke up. She lifted her head from Claire's lap and stared directly at my backpack.

“No.”

Mochi stared harder.

“You're not hungry.”

She meowed.

“Nobody gets hungry here.”

Another meow. Claire looked at me.

“She wants food.”

“She physically cannot be hungry.”

“Mochi doesn't care.”

Of course she didn't. I pulled out one of my food packets, tore off a tiny piece, and held it toward her. Mochi immediately climbed onto the arm of Claire's chair and ate it from my fingers.

Claire smiled.

“Mochi likes you.”

“She likes food.”

“Same thing, as far as she's concerned.”

Mochi licked my finger. At least one member of this group appreciated me.

We continued until the path ended at another floating ruin. I was about to turn around when I noticed something beside one of the walls: A cup.

Not a golden cup. Not some ancient magical artifact. Just a cup. Wooden, badly carved, and sitting beside a pile of blue fruit.

I froze.

“Claire.”

She saw it too. Someone had been here. Recently. My heart started beating faster.

“Grandpa...”

I moved before I even realized it.

“Lo!”

I ran around the wall.

There was a small shelter built beneath the remains of a collapsed arch. Pieces of white cloth hung between the stones. Wooden bowls sat on the ground. Someone had even arranged several blue flowers in a cracked ceramic pot.

And beside them, with his back turned to me, was an old man.

My breath disappeared.

Gray hair. Brown vest. The same shoulders I remembered from every walk we'd taken when I was little.

For two years, I'd imagined this moment. I'd imagined running toward him. I'd imagined him turning around. I'd imagined him saying my name.

Maybe we'd cry. Probably both of us. I'd throw my arms around him, and he'd tell me he'd known I'd come.

Every ridiculous hour I'd spent studying maps, every night I'd stayed awake reading reports, every person who'd told me to accept that he was gone—

All of it had led here.

“Grandpa...?”

He turned. My eyes burned. For a second, neither of us moved. Then he smiled.

“Oh, hello.”

I waited. He waited. My smile slowly disappeared.

“Grandpa?”

“Yes?”

My heart jumped. He remembered—

“Do I know you?”

The entire emotional reunion collapsed inside my head.

“WHAAAAAAAAAT?!”

Then my brain finally caught up with the rest of me.

Oh…

Grandpa had Alzheimer's.

Somehow, after two years of searching for him, studying Infinite Holes, crossing into another dimension, and imagining this reunion approximately a thousand times, I'd forgotten that extremely important detail.

I stared at him.

Wait. Did I seriously forget that Grandpa had Alzheimer's?

A horrible thought entered my mind.

Is this hereditary?

Claire finally rolled around the corner. Grandpa looked at her. Then at Mochi. Then back at me.

“Who are you people?”

I grabbed my hair with both hands.

“I CROSSED INTO ANOTHER DIMENSION TO FIND YOU!”

He blinked.

“That seems dangerous.”

“THAT'S YOUR RESPONSE?!”

Mochi meowed. Grandpa's face immediately brightened.

“Oh. A cat.”

He walked straight past me. I stared after him as he crouched beside Claire's chair and held out his hand to Mochi.

She sniffed his fingers. Then rubbed her head against them. Grandpa smiled.

“What a lovely little thing.”

I pointed at myself.

“YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER IS STANDING RIGHT HERE!”

He looked back at me. His eyes moved over my face. Then stopped on my hair. For a moment, something changed in his expression.

He tilted his head.

“That hair...”

I froze. He smiled faintly.

“It looks familiar.”

My hands slowly fell to my sides. It wasn't my name. It wasn't recognition. But after two years, it was enough.