“Did you decide, then, on early decision for Columbia?” Dad asks, looking hopeful.
“Early decision somewhere. I’m just not sure which school.”
“But an Ivy.”
“Yes. Definitely an Ivy.”
“I’m going to do an Ivy, too,” Piper says. “Whichever ones in California have the best sororities.”
Stacey bites back a smile. “They’re all in the Northeast.”
“Oh. Then I’m not doing an Ivy.”
“I thought you love living here, Pipe,” Dad says.
“I do, just not for, like, forever. It’s fine for a year, but I miss my friends and my room and the pool and the beach and my friends . . .”
“You already said your friends.”
“Did I? Oops. I guess I miss them twice as much.” She gives a loopy laugh before shoveling in more potatoes.
Dad peers at her like he’s noticing her bigger-than-usual blue eyes and appetite.
“All I know is that when it’s time to go home, I’ll be ready,” Piper goes on around a mouthful. “Hey, can I have Stacey’s car?”
“What? No, you can’t have my car!”
“Why not? It’s just sitting in the driveway back home. You’re not even coming back with us in August because you’ll have to go right to college from here,” Piper reminds her, piling more potatoes onto her plate.
“Well, you’re too young to drive, and I’ll probably need it at school.”
“Not if you go to Columbia,” Dad points out. “Or Harvard. Boston has a great public transportation system, too.”
“I’m not applying to Harvard.”
“Why not?” Piper asks. “That’s where Lennon’s going.”
“Harvard doesn’t offer early decision, and Lennon’s still not sure where he’s going. Princeton has a better music program. But his grades might not get him into an Ivy anyway.”
“Courtney says he’s supersmart.”
“He is, but . . .” Why, Stacey wonders, are they even talking about him? Or about her, for that matter? Why can’t Dad and Piper go back to chatting amongst themselves, and leave her out of it?
She looks at her mother. No longer pretending to eat, Mom is staring into space, wearing a troubled, faraway expression.
Maybe she’s just homesick for California. Unlike Dad, who grew up in Kansas and spent part of his college career in New York City, Mom has never lived anywhere but LA.
Or maybe she’s still thinking about the sage plant.
Or maybe . . .
Stacey thinks of Jack in The Shining, possessed by evil spirits or his own demons, slowly going mad in a place where a family was murdered.
She sets down her fork and asks to be excused.
“In a minute,” Dad says. “I think we should plan something fun for this Saturday night. Maybe a nice dinner and a Broadway show? Andrew said Marla might be able to score us tickets to Hamilton.”
“Yes!” Piper shouts.
“I, uh, already have plans with Lennon,” Stacey says. If she doesn’t see him the night before, she’ll definitely have to—want to—see him Saturday.
Piper rolls her dilated eyes. “Geez! You guys are together all the time. Can’t you take a freaking break for one night?”
“I’m not even seeing him on Friday because a couple of girls from school invited me to—you know what? It’s none of your business. Can I please be excused?”
“What are you doing Friday, Stace?” Mom asks.
“These girls I know invited me to see a movie. I don’t have to go, but—”
“No, you should. And we can see the show another time, right, Keith?”
Piper starts to protest, but Dad cuts her off.
“Actually, Pipe, Marla probably can’t get the tickets on such short notice anyway. I’ll see what I can do for next weekend, okay?”
“Sure. Fine.”
They clear the table quickly, and head upstairs.
Pausing at the door to her room, Piper turns back. “Stace? Thanks for not saying anything to them about . . . you know. And I’m glad you made new friends at school. That’s really good for you.”
“Yeah. Just . . . be careful, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
She hesitates. “I don’t know. Forget it. Good night.”
She closes the door to her own room behind her and opens her laptop again, ready to pick up where she left off. But first, she goes to the window and peeks out, just to be sure . . .
Nope. Still no Peeping Tom.
Most likely he was never there, or if he was, he’s moved on. Either way, she’s finally starting to breathe a little easier. And she really is looking forward to Friday night.
Not, however, to telling Lennon she’s made plans that don’t involve him.
Jacob
“Baba!”
The voice that slips into Jacob’s sleep is his own. He’s a child again, calling out to his father . . .
“Baba!”
A sharp poke on his arm yanks him back to reality. He opens his eyes to see his younger son standing over the bed in pajamas. His blond hair spikes straight up over round blue eyes in a wide face. He looks just like Emina, and she’s turned him into a little sissy. Jacob does his best to undo the damage, for the boy’s own good.
“I miss Mama. When is she coming back?”
It’s been nearly a week since Emina’s father was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. He’d had a stroke. Not a massive one, and he’s on the mend, but she’s been staying with her mother ever since, going back and forth to his bedside.
It had been Jacob’s idea, a reprieve from her constant, irritating presence. He’d misjudged how hard it would be to deal with the boys and the household on top of his own work schedule, but it’s been worthwhile. He’s so tired, and so content to have the bed to himself for a change, that he’s been sleeping soundly for the first time in years.
No nightmares about Anna. Not enough waking hours to wonder about her, or follow her around the city.
That’s about to change.
“Go back to bed,” he orders his son.
“But I miss Mama!”
“She’ll be home tomorrow! Now go to bed!”
The boy’s face crumples and tears fill his eyes. “You’re mean! You’re so mean to me!”
“You don’t know what mean is,” Jacob growls, and turns away, toward the wall. After a moment, he hears his son retreat, back down the hall to his room.
Mean.
As he waits for sleep to overtake him again, he thinks of his own father, and an ominous conversation in the earliest hours of 1994.
Jacob had returned to New York for Christmas when his paternal grandmother passed away. Her husband might have taken the unexpected death in stride, comforted that she’d gone peacefully in her sleep, but her son did not. Baba had always been close to his mother, and she’d doted on him.
Jacob was accustomed to the women in the family wailing at funerals, but his father was inconsolable, howling and leaning so far into the open grave that Jacob half expected him to dive in after the coffin.
“You gave me everything, N?n?!” he cried. “I owe you my life.”
Jacob was unnerved, witnessing the blatant anguish of a man who’d always been stoic and in control. In the days that followed, his father’s mood swung between depression and fury. He said little, and Jacob gave him a wide berth.