“Hi, y’all,” he said into the microphone, which Lena found weird. He’d never said “y’all” the entire time she’d known him. “I’m Julian Oliver and we’re Staring Into the Abyss.” There was a smattering of applause that seemed much bigger thanks to Debra’s big yelp.
The band started to play and at first, everything seemed fine. Not great. But fine. But slowly, Lena could tell that something was off. The beat—it wasn’t matching the pace of the lyrics. Julian would no longer look at her. His face was screwed up with frustration.
The crowd began to fidget. Everyone looking at one another as if to say, “Are they really this bad?” They all hoped the next song would be better.
It wasn’t.
It was worse.
Slowly the crowd started to talk among themselves. People peeled off to gather by the bar, to wait for the next band to come on. There were a few “boos,” but nothing dramatic. Later Julian would tell her that he’d wished there had been more “boos,” wished it had been more dramatic. Instead of just the sad, slow unspooling that it was.
After that gig, Julian quit his job at Mickey’s. He started working for his father.
“You’re not quitting music, are you?” Lena would press him.
He’d shrug her off. “I’m not quitting. I’m just being realistic.”
Lena swallowed her disappointment. She hadn’t fallen in love with him for his realism.
So she wasn’t that surprised when he told her he wouldn’t be moving with her to New York right away. But she was angry.
“I can’t leave my family,” he said, his voice knotted with tears.
“Just tell your dad that you want to be a musician. Not a goddamn woodworker!” Lena shouted at him. Her anger was palpable. She felt like she had betrayed and abandoned her family. Why couldn’t he do the same? Why couldn’t he just own who he was?
“I can’t, habibi,” he said, and he fell onto the ragged old armchair that was piled high with his dirty clothes.
She knew it was him, sitting in this chair, solid as ever, but she felt like she was seeing a stranger. “Then I can’t do this anymore. I’m going to New York and I never want to hear from you again.”
The words unsettled her as she said them out loud. But they were more like a wish than the truth at that moment. It took her more than two months to actually leave. There would be more nights like this. Worse nights. And long, painful days. There would be shouting matches and crying and apologies.
But in the end, she did leave. She packed up her bags and boarded a plane. On the flight, she gritted her teeth and reminded herself that this move was nothing.
You’ve crossed an ocean before, Lena, she reassured herself. What’s a couple of hundred miles?
VII.
“Oh,” Debra said, interrupting Julian. She squeezed his shoulder and got up from her chair. I followed her eyes to see three figures moving toward us.
Aunt Sarah and two boys who looked nearly identical—same cornmeal-blond hair, glacier-blue eyes, angular faces, and willowy build—pulled open the screen door and stepped onto the back porch.
“Brady! Carter!” Debra said, and raced over to them, scooping them up into one big bear hug.
“Hi, Nana,” they said unenthusiastically.
“Sorry to just pop in on you like this,” Sarah said. She touched her hair self-consciously.
“Don’t be silly, sweetheart,” Debra said. “You guys are welcome anytime.” She gestured toward the table. “Take a seat! I made pie.”
Sarah tumbled into one of the wooden rockers and the boys also sat down, albeit reluctantly.
“The boys wanted to come over and see you, Mom,” Sarah volunteered. “And of course they wanted to see their uncle and their newfound cousin.” She smiled at me.
They both kept staring at me, a sour expression on their faces. Despite what Sarah said, I was getting the distinct impression they hadn’t been that eager to see me or Julian. We all sat there in awkward silence. Debra served the boys a large slice of pie each, and they slowly dug into their respective slices.
In between bites of pie, one of the twins looked at me and said, “Don’t you feel weird?”
“Me?” I said, my voice a little squeaky. I stared at my feet.
“Carter,” Aunt Sarah hissed. “Be nice.”
“I mean,” the other boy said, as if continuing for Carter, “you never even knew Grandpa.”
“Brady,” Sarah hissed again. “Knock it off. Where are your manners?”
“It’s okay,” I said quickly, looking at Sarah and then at Julian. Julian gave me a reassuring nod. “They’re right, after all. I didn’t know him.”
“Sweetheart, you met him today,” Debra said, standing back up from her chair and walking to stand behind me. She squeezed my shoulders.
“Yes, she did,” Julian said. “And we’re here now. We both are.” He gave me an encouraging smile.
“A little late,” Carter mumbled under his breath. He shoved a forkful of pie into his mouth.
I’d expected Sarah to let out another exasperated sigh, reprimanding Carter, but instead we all turned our heads toward the porch door. Toby, the boy from this morning, was standing in the doorway sheepishly.
“Hi,” he said, and gave a little wave.
“Toby!” Debra said. She greeted Toby with a hug. She cradled his face in her hands and gave him a kiss on each cheek. “What brings you over here?”
Toby leaned against the side wall of the porch. I envied how relaxed he seemed. His eyes found mine. I snuck into my seat as I felt everyone else look at me.
“The twins texted me to say they were coming over. And I thought I’d stop by and see everyone,” Toby said. He slid one hand into the pocket of his jeans.
“Are we still going to go down to the lake?” Carter asked. He shoveled the last of his pie into his mouth and finished it in three large chomps.
Toby turned toward Sarah. “Would that be okay? We’d thought it might be fun to walk down to the lake Tom loved so much. If it’s easier for you, the boys can spend the night at my place and I can drive them back to your house in the morning.”
“Nonsense,” Debra said, waving her hands in the air. “They can stay here. You all can. Sarah, why don’t you call Todd and let him know you guys will be home in the morning.”
“Mom, are you sure?” Sarah asked. Her voice revealed hesitance but her face showed relief. She wanted to stay here. At her childhood home. And that was perfectly understandable to me.
“But …” I saw a look of concern flash across Brady’s face. Presumably I was staying in the room the boys always stayed in when they slept over.
Debra waved again. “Don’t you worry about it. I have enough space for everybody.”
“So the lake it is?” Toby said, wriggling his eyebrows in a goofy way that would’ve seemed gross on about 99 percent of the world’s population but somehow worked for him.
“Taliah,” Debra said. “Why don’t you join the boys at the lake?”
Toby’s face changed from goofy to almost challenging. He gave me a dare of a smile. “Yeah. How about it?”
I glanced at Julian, and our conversation from earlier that afternoon came flooding back to me. And my fight with Harlow. I was about to say no, but something inside me made me pause.
“Sure,” I said pointedly. “Why not?”
VIII.