chapter Ten
The first week without Isaac, I muddle through. By the second week, I have to force myself out to the studio. Every time I open the door, the scent of his aftershave fills the air. His fingerprints cover the piano’s surface. His echo reminds me to slow down during the adagio.
A few days later, I get pissed—pissed at him for losing control and being a jerk, pissed at myself for taking the bait. Walking out felt right at the time, but now I’m not so sure. I’m not sure of anything.
By the third week, I’m a blubbering mess.
Was that small moment of triumph worth throwing away your chance to get into the NEC? Didn’t think that one through, did you, moron?
Things get worse when Mama asks why Isaac hasn’t been over.
“I won’t send him a check if he’s not here,” she says. “Is he coming back?”
“I don’t think so.”
Mama perches on a stepstool so she can empty out the contents of the cabinet above the fridge. She’s already tackled the rest of the kitchen and pantry—empty, wipe, toss, then rearrange—so their contents line up according to color and expiration date. Not that she eats any of it. She stops and rests her arms on top of the fridge, a can of black-eyed peas in her hand.
“And why not? What did you do to run him off?”
“Why do you always assume I did something?” I lean against the kitchen table.
“Because I know you. You screw up everything.”
I look over to the sink where she’s lined up her medication bottles on the windowsill from tallest to shortest. All the labels face out.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I know I can count on you.” I turn to go upstairs, but she’s not done yet.
“Am I wrong? Where are your friends? Fact is, you don’t have any.”
Her words pierce my back like poisoned arrows. I shouldn’t listen to this.
“I have tried and tried with you, Julianne, but you just aren’t very likable. I mean, look at you. You don’t make an effort to fit in, with your wild hair and frumpy, bohemian clothes. You always cover up in shapeless T-shirts. You’ve got a whole closet full of nice things like the other girls wear, but you insist on doing things your own way. Well, look where it’s gotten you. Is it any wonder you can’t get along with Isaac Laroche?”
I walk down the hall, but she yells after me.
“For heaven’s sake, we were paying the man and he still abandoned you!”
I can’t talk back. She’ll smack me. I can’t yell. She’ll yell louder. I can’t run away. I’ve got nowhere to go. Nowhere, nothing, no one—that’s exactly who I am at this moment when the veil descends, wraps its blackened rage around my head with gargoyle claws and sinks in deep.
I round the corner to my room, kick the door shut and lift the bedside lamp. It’s the first thing to hit the wall, followed by all my piano awards and trophies. It’s not enough. I pull Mama’s “nice things” out of my closet and dump nail polish all over them. Better, but still not enough. I rip the full-length mirror off the back of my door and raise it above my head, ready to smash it through the window.
Then I giggle. It scares me a little, this idea I have.
Should I do it? Am I brave enough? And what will people say?
I lean the mirror against the desk to retrieve my scissors from the middle drawer. The tips gleam in the light from the ceiling as I draw a figure eight on my wrist. I could just poke them through the pale flesh there and there. The blue rivulets create a roadmap to self-destruction.
But no, I like this idea better.
When I’m finished, my “wild” hair spreads out around me on the floor like a ring of fire, inch after inch of flame licking at my ankles. I run my fingers through what’s left of my shorn hair and grin.
***
Shortly before Christmas, an official-looking envelope with a Boston return address appears on my bed. It contains all the information I need for my audition—hotels, directions, times, and instructions. Every waking hour, I practice for the audition, think about the audition, or think about practicing for the audition.
I only see Isaac at church. Which is why I’m more than a little surprised to see Dave Gaston on the back stoop. I barely get the door open before he starts in on me.
“Wow, you look like shit. No, wait! Don’t close the door. Love the new ’do, but dang, when was the last time you ate?”
I shrug.
“You’re skinny as a rail, and are those sandbags under your eyes? No matter. I’m here to rescue you.” He drops into a deep bow, but not before he flashes a devilish grin.
“Nice to see you, too, smartass.” Part of me really wants to shut the door in his face, but I can’t help giggling.
“Seriously, Juli, you look like hell. What’s up? You gonna let me in? I’m like a vampire. You have to invite me first.”
We head into the kitchen, and I pour him a glass of sweet tea.
“Audition.”
He nods.
“I only have a couple of weeks left. I’m scared to death. Isaac hasn’t spoken to me in over a month.” I tap my fingers on the counter. “Speaking of Isaac, does he know you’re here?”
“Why? Do I need his permission to see you? I thought we had a little something going last time I was in Mobile.” He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of tea.
“You’re such a schmoozer. How come you don’t have a girlfriend?”
“Who says I don’t? For all you know, I have one in every town between here and Boston.” He winks. “No, Ike doesn’t know I’m here. I just got in last night, and he had stuff to do this morning, so I’m loose on the town. I thought you and I were friends, but I can leave if you—”
I burst into tears.
“Whoa, hey, kitten. No need to cry. I’m not going anywhere.” He pats me on the shoulder at first, and when I cry harder, he puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in. I see him glance at the door.
“You’re right,” I say. “I do look like shit. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I have nightmares. I’m such a mess that my friends don’t call. I just—” I blubber all over him, and I can’t stop.
“Yeah, I remember how it was. That’s when I started drinking. I was even hung over at my audition. And they still let me in, so you’re golden.”
The worst is over and I hiccup. I try to wipe my nose with my hand without him seeing.
“Hey, no snot on my shirt, okay? We haven’t been to first base, and I have strict rules about that.”
I smile despite myself and get a tissue.
“You know what you need?” he says. “A break. Tell you what. Me and Ike and some of his family are headed down to Dauphin Island tonight. Bonfire on the beach, that kind of thing. Why don’t you come?”
“Yeah, like they want me tagging along. I’ll be fine, but thanks for the invite.”
“No, they won’t care. I promise. If any of them give you a hard time, they can answer to me.”
I do that skeptical eyebrow thing R.J. loves.
“Look, Ike won’t care. He told me what happened. And he feels bad, but don’t tell him I told you. It’s just a little get-together. And believe me, you really need it. In fact, you’re not allowed to go near that piano for the rest of the day. Dave’s orders. Just go get ready, and we’ll pick you up about six.”
“Dave, I haven’t even spoken to him since he yelled at me.”
“He’ll probably apologize tonight. Now, scat. It’ll take you a while to pull yourself together.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“What else are you going to do tonight? Wait. Is there a guy? Do you have a date? Can I meet him? Huh? Huh?”
“Shut up, you turd. Okay, I’m in. I’ll try to be presentable by six. Just pick me up behind the studio. That way I can tell my parents I’m going out with friends from school and they won’t recognize Isaac’s car.”
“Why would they have a problem if you hang out with us? Does my reputation precede me?”
I really try not to roll my eyes, but they won’t cooperate. “No, it’s not that. My mama, she just…gets weird when I go out. I usually just sneak out, but since I’ll miss dinner, I have to tell her something.”
“Whatever. See you in a few, kitten. And chin up.”
Upstairs, R.J. is in his room working on his laptop. “Did I hear someone down there? I thought I heard a guy.”
“Yeah, it was someone from school.” Lie. “He invited me to a bonfire tonight with some friends.”
“Oh, my sister’s got a date.”
“It’s not a date, just some people from school.” Liar, liar, liar.
“Where are you going?”
“Dauphin Island. One of them has a house on the beach.”
“Must be nice. You have to tell Mama, you know.”
“I know. She’s doing pretty okay on the new stuff, so I hope she doesn’t freak. Why don’t you come, too? She can’t get mad at both of us.”
Please don’t call my bluff.
“No can do. Unlike you and your non-date, I have a real one. Don’t wait up for me.”
I trudge to my room, fling open the closet door and sigh. What do you wear to a bonfire on the beach in December? I settle on jeans, a patterned tank top and a fleece to go over it. December is kind of iffy on the Gulf Coast. Often it’s bitterly cold, but there are weeks like this when it’s warm.
As Dave so nicely pointed out, I look like hell. I go a little heavy on the makeup. Not too much, but enough to conceal my lack of sleep. I scrunch my chin-length curls and call it good. I tell Mama about my plans at the same time R.J. tells her about his. That way she has to freak out on both of us.
“Fine. Have fun,” she says.
Is this a trick?
“I can’t believe it,” I whisper to R.J. when we head out the back door.
He shakes his head. “Maybe she accidentally took a double dose of her happy pills.”
“I know, right?” It’s too good to be true.
R.J. eyes my aging Honda. “Are you driving down?”
“No, they’re picking me up. You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll just hang out in the studio.”
“So who are you going with, anyway?”
“Just some friends.”
“Anybody I know?”
“Any reason you’re playing twenty questions?”
“You tell me.”
“Just go! I’ll see you in the morning.” I push him toward his truck.
I’m tempted to go mess around on the piano for a few minutes, but Dave forbade it. He’s right, I spend every waking hour worrying about the audition. I even spend my precious few sleeping hours subconsciously obsessing over it.
Now I’ve got to figure out what to say to Isaac.
Car tires crunch outside and sure enough, it’s his black Charger. Dave’s riding shotgun. He steps out and gives me a quick hug.
“You doing better, kitten? You look better. Mmm, and you smell divine.”
“And you smell like beer. Maybe I shouldn’t come.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s just some of Ike’s friends and family. Nothing crazy. Look, two of his cousins are in the backseat. Girl cousins, okay? Everything’s cool.”
In the back seat are two girls just a little older than me. Both have hair the same shade of chestnut brown as Isaac’s, but it’s impossible to see details in the dark. Dave introduces them as Sara and Taylor, but Isaac barely acknowledges me.
The ride there is thirty of the most awkward minutes ever. Dave regales the girls with stories from when he and Isaac were in undergrad. Both eat up the attention, but I’m pretty sure they’re buzzed. Isaac barely takes his eyes off the road, though I catch him as he glances at me in the mirror. Then I remember, it’s the first time he’s seen me since I chopped my hair.
I stare out the window and watch the tiny lights out on the bay. Soon, the lights get more frequent and we approach the island. We cross the giant camel-hump bridge and drive further south until there’s a tee in the road. We turn right and head past the school and public park. The houses out here are raised up fifteen feet from the ground, protection against storm-driven waves and frequent hurricanes.
The road turns into a path and all but disappears where the drifting sand covers it. I imagine this is what snow drifts look like, except these are pale yellow instead of white. I’m glad Isaac knows where he’s going. He pulls onto another sand-covered side road and parks near a light-colored house with a couple other cars parked underneath.
Outside, the flicker of a bonfire dances on the sand close to the water. I’ve spent seventeen years in Mobile, but I’ve never seen the beach at night. Stepping out of the car is like stepping into a surreal movie scene. Driftwood serves as benches. It reminds me of giant sun-bleached bones washed ashore. The air is still, but I tug my fleece closer around my neck.
The two girls from the car disappear. Dave is at my side, and I’m glad I can count on him to stick by me. It seems no one else will.
“I need to talk to you. About Ike,” he says.
I nod and follow him down to the shore. We stop short of the crashing waves and listen to them tumble against the sand while sea foam crackles nearby. It’s so peaceful and beautiful that it makes my heart ache. I look to Sand Island lighthouse.
For once, Dave is quiet. He must sense my mood, because he stands next to me, hands in his pockets, for a long time. I can’t imagine what he needs to tell me about Isaac. If it’s that Isaac never wants to see me again, I don’t understand why I’m here. If it’s that Isaac’s sorry, shouldn’t he tell me? When I’ve taken in enough of the sea air, I face him.
“Okay. Tell me.”
“It’s not his.”
Um?
“This house? You said it was his aunt’s.”
“The baby. It’s not his. He found out today while I was at your house. That’s why he was so weird on the way down here.”
I don’t know what to say, so I stare out at the water again. There are some late-night boaters far out, their tiny lights the only thing to indicate their existence.
“That’s why I came to Mobile this weekend. I knew they’d have the results soon, and the lawyer was supposed to call today. Well, he called while I was gone. I knew Ike would be messed up either way, so…”
I tuck a wayward strand behind my ear. Why is he telling me this? It should be Isaac if he wants me to know.
Dave reads my mind. “He never would have told you. Ike’s a pretty private guy. He keeps everything in and pretends it’s all fine, but he’s not taking it well. His family wants to cheer him up, and that’s why they had this little shindig tonight.”
I nod. After a few minutes, Dave takes my hand and leads me back to the party.
“You’ve got to be hungry. You’ll wash away if a strong wave comes along. C’mon.”
We trudge back to the fire and get drinks. There’s one orange soda left in the cooler for me, and Dave cracks open a beer. We help ourselves to hot dogs, baked beans, and corn on the cob. It looks like heavenly hash after so many days of barely eating.
I wave hello to Isaac’s mother and spot one of his sisters corralling her three kids. Dave and I settle on one of the pieces of driftwood, plates on our knees. A man I don’t recognize plays the guitar, and another who looks familiar plucks a banjo. Music must run in the family.
“Hey, Dave, is Mr. Cline here?”
“Nope. Didn’t think he could walk in the sand.”
“Ah, I didn’t think of that.”
Dave laughs when I inhale my food. He looks pleased. He tells me more dumb stories about the New England Conservatory but makes sure not to mention auditions. An hour later, we dump our plates into the garbage, but Isaac still hasn’t shown his face.
“Not much of a host, that one,” Dave says. “Probably wallowing in self-pity.”
Or avoiding me. I knew it was a bad idea to come tonight.
Dave’s on his fourth or fifth beer when he suggests we go for a walk. I’m sweaty from the fire and getting more worked up by the minute, so I agree. He snakes another bottle out of the cooler. Instead of heading to the shore again, we walk up past the house and onto the deserted road. The sparse streetlamps cast uneven light on the sand dunes and dark houses. Most of them are empty this time of year.
“You feel better now? You look a hell of a lot better than you did this afternoon. You gave me a scare there. Lucky for you, I’ve got three sisters so I don’t totally freak around tears.”
“Yeah, it’s been nice. Though I really wish Isaac would talk to me.”
“Yeah.” He takes another sip of beer. I stare at the label.
“You know, I’ve never had more than communion wine.”
“No shit? I think I was fifteen or sixteen when I had my first beer. My dad let me have a sip of his. Thought I’d choke or puke or something. Turns out my liver’s stronger than his.”
I point to Dave’s bottle. “Do you mind?”
“Hell no. Go for it. You earned it. As if the, uh, you-know-what wasn’t enough to worry about, you’ve been Ike’s whipping post.”
He hands it over and I tip it back, the way I’ve seen everyone else do it. It’s not great.
“It tastes like metallic bread.”
Dave throws back his head and laughs. “Now that’s one I haven’t heard. It’s the yeast that tastes like bread. It’s stronger in some beers than others. Sometimes they use other flavors too, like blueberry. They’re all different. Unfortunately, this one’s about two steps above horse piss.”
He explains the whole brewing process to me and tells me his favorites. By the time he finishes, I’ve drained the whole bottle.
“Slow down there, kitten. You’ve also got to learn to pace yourself. Ride the buzz. Although you just ate, so you should be fine.”
We wander back to the party, and I can still taste the metal tang. What am I doing? Oh, shut up. Live a little. I’m curious whether all beer has the same aftertaste.
Dave laughs and hands me another. “Why don’t you start with something lighter? Try this one.”
Isaac’s sister gives us a disapproving look, so we wander back down to the beach and stop on the Gulf side of the sand dunes. They were built near the shore to protect the beaches from oil spills. Most were plowed under after the threat was over, but the ones on this end of the island remain.
My bottle is half gone, and the alcohol warms me from the inside. My cheeks flush, so I shrug out of my fleece jacket and throw it onto one of the dunes behind us. I sit on it and lay back to gaze at the stars. The sky is so clear away from the city lights. Dave lies next to me and points out constellations. They all blur together, and I’m sleepy—a very happy sleepy. I snuggle into him, so it’s not really a surprise when his lips brush my jaw then travel to my neck. I giggle when he nibbles my ear.
“You’re a biter, are you?”
His fingers brush aside my tank strap, and his teeth graze my bare shoulder. I close my eyes and sigh.
So this is what it’s like to be wanted.
His hand snakes under my tank and flutters up my side. That’s when I decide to go for it. He’s ready. I’m willing. Isaac’s clearly not interested and won’t ever be. I don’t really know what to do, so I borrow some moves from TV. They seem to work. I tug on his wallet chain and pull him closer. I’m about to find out exactly how ready he is when he grabs my hand before it reaches its destination.
“Juli.”
“Sixteen.” My voice comes out a little breathier than I intended.
“Sixteen what?” He sounds a little winded, too.
“The legal age of consent in Alabama. Not eighteen.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmm-hmm.” I kiss him again.
He pulls back first. “I always heard ‘fifteen will get you twenty.’ And let’s be honest, I’m too pretty to go to prison.”
“I’m seventeen.”
“Still.”
“It’s because I’m a freak, right? I should’ve known.” Should’ve listened to Mama.
“A freak? If by freak you mean freakishly smooth skin, gorgeous long legs, crystal blue eyes, and the most magnificent red hair I’ve ever seen, then yes, please be freaky. But we can’t…”
I arch into him and he groans.
“You’re making this really difficult. I hate being the good guy.”
“You’re the good guy? I thought you had girlfriends in every state.”
“Yeah, well, there is that.”
He kisses me again, but I can tell his heart’s not in it. I sit up and wrap my arms around my middle.
“I think you should put your jacket back on, kiddo.”
Kiddo? He’s half drunk, I’m half naked, and I still can’t seduce him. Clearly, there’s something very wrong with me. I turn my back and quickly tug on my gritty jacket. I zip it all the way up to my chin and bury my face in my hands.
“Hey.” He touches my arm. “Tell me one thing, please?”
“What?” This whole night has been a disaster. I don’t know what I was thinking in coming here.
“Does it match?”
“Does wh—ugh. Guess you’ll never know.”
“Aw, don’t be like that, kitten. You’ll thank me later. You know, while I’m taking a cold shower.”
“Don’t patronize me on top of everything else.”
“Patronize?” He narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “You have no idea, do you?”
I ignore his question. “What time is it?”
He pulls out his phone to look. “It’s only ten o’clock. Is that past your curfew?”
“I’m not twelve.”
“Clearly.”
We find Isaac near the bonfire. He’s deep in conversation with the two cousins who rode down with us. When he sees us approach, he glances from me to Dave and back. I swear his jaw clenches just a little, so maybe some good will come out of this after all.
“I’m leaving. You two done?”
Dave narrows his eyes at Isaac. They stare at each other, communicating with a look. Isaac breaks eye contact first.
Unlike the trip down, there’s no small talk or college stories, just an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of tires on pavement. Isaac has a right to be upset, and the party was a bad idea. Instead of raising his spirits, he seems more depressed than ever. It’s selfish, but I still wish he’d say something to me. Anything.
Isaac drops off his two cousins first then pulls into the alley behind the studio. He doesn’t say goodbye when I open the door. I pause with one foot on the ground and the other still in the car—I can’t let the evening end like this. I lean forward and put my hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Isaac.” I place a small kiss near his ear and step out into the alley, where Dave waits for me with his hands in his pockets.
“Hope you had fun, kitten. You needed a good time. I head back tomorrow morning, so give me a call when you come up for the audition. I’ll show you around.” He leans in to kiss me, but I turn my cheek at the last second. I don’t understand him and his mixed signals.
“Heartbreaker.” With a wink, he slides back into the car. Isaac speeds off, none too quietly.
Both cars are in the garage, but R.J.’s truck is gone. The neighborhood holds its breath right along with me when I tiptoe through the backyard and unlock the door. The clock in the kitchen says 10:45 p.m. I find Daddy in the living room watching a fishing show.
“Have a nice time, honey?”
“Yep. Great. Where’s Mama?”
“Went to bed at ten. You’re lucky. She’d smell that beer on your breath and have a fit.” He scowls. “Do I need to worry about you?”
Like you ever have before?
“No, Daddy. I just had a sip. Some older girls brought it, and I just tried it so they’d leave me alone. That’s all.”
I’m way too good at this lying thing.
“You smell like wood smoke, too. You’re not very good at lying, you know that?”
Or maybe not.
“Get upstairs and go to bed. And make sure your mother doesn’t find out about this.”
I turn on my heel and fly up the stairs. I never thought about the smell.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
I shower and throw my clothes in the washing machine before I crawl into bed. As I drift off, I think about Dave’s teeth on my shoulder and try to figure out where I went wrong.
***
“Does he always sweat like that?”
It’s Christmas Eve and I sit in church with Daddy, Mama, R.J., and Dave, who ditched Isaac’s family to come sit with me. Turns out he didn’t go back to Boston, opting to spend Christmas in Mobile. I’d like to think I had something to do with that decision, but I’d be kidding myself.
“Always, even in the dead of winter.” We watch Rev. Landry make a swipe at his forehead.
Mama scowls at me and presses her finger to her lips. When Dave slid into the pew next to me and pecked me on the cheek, her eyes widened to the size of watermelons.
“Mama, this is David Gaston, Isaac’s friend from Boston. He graduated from the NEC, too. Dave, this is my mama, daddy, and my brother, R.J.”
My anxiety ratchets up a million turns when he winks at Mama as he shakes her hand. Thank goodness his words are totally polite.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am, sir, R.J.”
We’re done with most of the service and get in line for communion. It’s bitter cold outside, but the sanctuary is toasty with all the candles and warm bodies. And one of those warm bodies stands a little too close behind me.
Dave leans over my shoulder. “It’s too bad they don’t have mistletoe in this place.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a pagan thing.”
“Oh, I love it when you talk dirty.” He chuckles and backs off as we approach the altar.
“Have you no shame?” I stand with my hands folded in front of me, in what I hope is a pose of piety and reverence. I see Mr. Cline out of the corner of my eye as I approach the altar.
“This is the body and blood, shed for you.”
“Amen.”
Back in the pew, Dave asks, “So do you really buy into all this stuff?”
“Don’t you?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “I’m just here for the free bread and wine. And the virgins. Definitely the virgins.”
I whack him in the shoulder and giggle before I can stop myself. At first it’s a nervous giggle. Is he referring to me? It’s pretty obvious I fit into that category. And the more I try to stop laughing, the harder it is. The whole situation is ridiculous and embarrassing. Pretty soon, my shoulders heave, shaking the whole pew. I can’t breathe. Mama shoots me the evil eye, but I can’t stop. R.J. crosses his eyes at me, Daddy smirks, and pretty soon they’re giggling, too.
I bite the inside of my cheeks, but that just gives me an idea. I suck them in and turn to Dave. I unleash fishy-face on him. He snorts. R.J. laughs out loud but turns it into a cough, and Mama looks like she wants to slap the daylights out of us all right then and there.
Can’t blame her this time.
People turn and glance at us, but that just makes it worse. I laugh so hard that tears threaten. And try as I might, it makes me laugh harder. I’m practically hysterical by the time the service winds down.
The ushers extinguish the lights, and Isaac begins “Silent Night.” I pick up my candle and tip it to Dave’s, which is already lit. The solemnity of this tradition brings me back down to earth.
I love this part of Christmas Eve service, watching the soft glow throw shadows on the faces of my family. And now Dave. At the front of the sanctuary, Isaac switches on his small lamp to illuminate his sheet music. A lump rises in my throat, and I stumble over the words. I just want things to be right between us again.
I must be pretty obvious because Dave says, “He misses you, you know. More than once I’ve caught him staring at your picture on his phone. Like he’s going to dial your number but chickens out.”
I can’t believe how quickly I’ve switched from laughter to tears. I’m struck by how beautiful everything is, as if it’s suspended in this moment by an unseen force. The Holy Spirit? I don’t know. The faces in the stained glass peer down at me with their flat, fixed gazes. The one where Jesus holds a lamb in his arms makes me gasp. I think of the man outside Felix’s this summer: “The Lord is watching you. He sees what you are, what you gonna do.”
“…round yon virgin, mother and child.”
Not even Dave’s spot-on Elvis impersonation can make me smile now.