how it should be

Henry wanted to do something nice for Vada.

"But, you, already have." His mother reminded him how he'd baked those scones for their tea-party. And what about all those books and movies on Starwars that he'd given to her?

"I guess." But he wanted to do something big. He just couldn't help it.

Of course, uncovering his grandmother's bicycle in the garage had been kind of a mistake. His dad told him how she'd ridden it in the streets of her hometown when she was a girl. It was a German bike.

It had a straw basket. It was perfect for Vada. He wanted to paint the bike baby blue. It was her color. It would be a fantastic present. She could ride it to school. Of course, he dreamed of her riding a bike in the streets of Europe, somewhere.

He didn't really know so much about his grandmother, but she'd met his grandfather in the Air Force and ended up here. He barely remembered her. His dad spoke to her in German, but he'd never taught him nor his brother anything about the language.

"She needs a bike." He was back to Vada. He needed to concentrate on Vada. She was good and Henry only wanted to have good thoughts.

"Did she even say she needed a bike?" His mother looked at him slightly perturbed as they were making dinner. Henry helped with the salad while she stirred a one pot meal of noodles and ground beef.

Henry only shrugged. Did he have to ask?

"What about Josie? Have you talked to her since she got back?" His mother asked.

Henry shrugged, again. Almost in a pout. He didn't want to talk about Josie. He'd just soon forget about those friends. He wasn't that Henry, anymore. He didn't want to hear how he used to be.

"I bet she'd love to hear from you." Her mother told him.

Henry swelled a frown as he ripped lettuce into the three salad bowls. He didn't want to think about Josie.