It’s not always easy to know what the right thing to do is. When you love someone, you try to protect them. Like Mom and Dad did with each other, like Yakov and I did with Gram. Like Gram did for Clay and me.

My parents have made mistakes. But so have I.

Mom turns to me when I walk into the kitchen. She brushes the hair out of my face and leans her forehead against mine. “Your dad told me. I’m so sorry you thought you had to figure this out on your own.”

Dad comes over, and we make it a group hug. Their embrace is safety and love. It’s the way I used to feel with them. It’s the way I can feel again. The electricity humming in my brain quiets, and the picture of this moment clicks into place. If I trust them with Gram, then I know I can trust them with me, too.

I take a breath. “I need to tell you something about my memory.”

36. Von Economo Neurons

Our insula would be nothing without von Economo neurons, or VENs. These are slug-shaped cells found mostly in the insula. Without these cells, we would never turn our feelings into actions.

When we crave something like pancakes, it’s because we remember the smell and taste, but it’s also because we remember how we felt when we ate them. Like when Gram made me a Minnie Mouse–shaped pancake, the kitchen was warm and Clay was laughing while I made faces at him. Emotional moments affect how we remember. I’m happy when I smell pancakes because it reminds me of Gram making them for me.

I know I will always remember how I feel at this second here with Gram. We’re alone in the house since my parents took Clay to the park. I sip my hot chocolate and nibble at the cinnamon roll she’s made. The entire house smells like warm sugar and vanilla.

“I’m thrilled you told your parents about your memory,” she says.

“They were pretty amazing about it, actually.” I shrug, trying to act like it’s no big deal. My mouth doesn’t cooperate, and I can’t hold back a smile.

“Well, I won’t say I told you so.…” Gram’s eyes sparkle.

I laugh. “But you told me so.”

She holds her hand up in an exaggerated shrug. Her smile fades after a second and her expression turns serious. “I’m sorry for scaring you last night.”

“I think it was because you were emotional about…” I point to the journal.

“Perhaps,” she acknowledges. “Yakov called me again this morning to check up on me. He wanted me to tell you to come see him again.”