“You still like me?” Her face was unreadable.

“Yeah. You’ve really helped me this semester.” I paused, fidgeting with the rag. “Your prying may have bothered grandmother just now, but without you, I would be going through all of this by myself. You’re . . . you’re the only one I’ve opened up to, the only one I’ve wanted to open up to.”

Louise sighed, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

“You’re so kind.”

I shrugged and retreated to the sink.

“Should we get some cannoli, then?” I asked.

“Is it close?”

“Yeah. Can’t go a mile here without running into a place that sells cannoli.”

She gave me a weak smile.

An hour before her train was set to depart, she hauled her duffel bag and cooler of cannoli to the front door. I called for grandmother and grandfather even as Louise protested. They came down to say their goodbyes, hunched over by the door, hands behind their backs, smiling.

“Come again whenever you like,” grandfather said, attempting to help Louise with the bag before she grabbed it herself, thanking him profusely.

“Yes, please do,” grandmother echoed.

Louise blinked at her, then broke into a smile.

“Thank you all so much for having me. I had the best time.”

“Let’s go, then,” I said quickly, ushering Louise out the door. I did not want her to realize grandmother was in one of those states where she didn’t actually know what was happening and was merely following grandfather to be polite.

“Ah!” Louise cried as the door closed behind us. “We didn’t take their senior cards to use.”

In that moment, I knew that whatever was happening between us, whatever I had been fantasizing about or hoping for, was real. That I hadn’t, in my isolation, invented this longing or somehow overglorified her virtues. That even if I were a lost network packet, and grandmother and grandfather were too, that she, at least, was looking for us, remembered and cared for us. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, to touch the cheeks that were beginning to redden in the cold, and savor how they might feel against my fingers, how soft her hair must be, bunched against her scarf.

She was turning back when I reached for her shoulder and stopped her.

“I bet they’re already in my pocket,” I said and fumbled inside my jacket. Sure enough, two senior cards with grandmother’s and grandfather’s smiling faces came out in my hand.

Louise shook her head, smiling.

“I’m in awe of their hustle.”

“We have to hustle now too,” I said regretfully.