Here We Are Now

  “Don’t be a perv, Toby,” Carter groaned, and Brady laughed.

  I took a deep breath and then quickly slipped my T-shirt up over my head. I unbuttoned my jeans and stepped out of them. I ran into the water and landed with a splash.

  “That landing proves you’re family,” Carter said to me.

  I gave him a fake salute. “Glad to have proved myself.”

  “Don’t get too high on yourself yet,” he warned. “I said it proved you’re family. I still haven’t decided if I like you.”

  Brady laughed and splashed his brother.

  “So you guys used to come here a lot with Tom?”

  All three of them nodded.

  “He always wanted to fish out here,” Carter said with a laugh. “But we never caught any fish.”

  “But those afternoons were the best,” Brady filled in. “Nana would pack us sandwiches and we’d sit out here for hours with Grandpa. Swimming and joking around.” A look passed over Brady’s face. “Remember when Toby pretended to be a fish that one day?”

  They all doubled over laughing.

  “When Gramps wasn’t looking,” Carter explained to me, “Toby would dive under and tug at his bait.”

  I was getting the sense that Toby pretty frequently made a fool of himself to entertain the twins, but he didn’t seem that eager to go over every one of his efforts. “It was funnier when we were younger,” he said, and something about his voice made me think he was blushing again.

  “Let’s play chicken!” Brady said.

  Carter pretended to groan. “Gramps hated chicken.”

  “Exactly,” Brady said. “So it’s the perfect way to honor him.”

  “By doing something that would definitely piss him off?” Carter said.

  “What could be more perfect?” Toby chimed in. “The old man was always pissed.”

  “That he was,” Brady agreed.

  “In the best sort of way,” Carter said, and I could hear the emotion in his voice.

  “So what do you say, newbie?” Brady asked me. “You and Toby versus Car and me?”

  I looked to Toby and he gave me a reassuring smile. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m in.”

  IX.

  The walk back was similar to the walk there. Except that we were all soaked. The ends of my hair kept dribbling water onto my T-shirt. The twins darted ahead of us, but Toby lagged behind with me.

  “See?” he said. “They’re not so bad.”

  “I never said they were bad,” I argued. “I said that they hated me.”

  “They seem to hate you a tiny bit less now,” Toby offered.

  “Probably because of my exceptional chicken skills,” I said.

  “Probably,” he agreed.

  We walked in silence for a few moments and then I said, “I wish I’d come to Oak Falls sooner.”

  Toby let out a deep breath. “I wish you had too.”

  “Hey,” I said. “Earlier you said you weren’t really one for questions. But you kept asking me questions. Why?”

  He bumped his shoulder against mine. “Because I find you interesting.”

  I swallowed and tried to ignore the flipping sensation in my stomach. “You don’t even know me.”

  “That’s true,” he conceded. “Or at least not well.”

  “So how do you know I’m interesting?”

  He grinned. “At first, I was interested in you because your story was interesting. Girl meets famous father and his family after all these years? After Carter and Brady filled me in on your existence, I knew I had to check you out.”

  “Check me out?” I teased.

  He laughed. “You know what I mean.”

  “So you had an eye out for me this morning?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “I’d been prepared to dislike you, actually.”

  “Because of Carter and Brady?”

  “Sort of,” he said. “And because I was jealous that you were actually related to Tom.”

  “But you were the one that actually knew him.”

  He gave me a wry look. “I didn’t say my thinking was rational. Tom meant a lot to me.”

  I swallowed and worked up the nerve to ask the question that had been on my mind. “Because of your own father?”

  “Yeah,” Toby said slowly. “This will probably sound silly to you, but I really wanted Tom’s respect because I knew my dad had deeply respected Tom. And if I wasn’t ever going to have the chance to prove myself to my dad, the next best thing I could do was prove myself to Tom.”

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted out.

  His face registered surprise. “For what?”

  “I’ve been whining about my dad and, well, it’s complicated, he’s . . .”

  “Alive?” Toby filled in.

  “Yeah,” I said softly.

  He nudged my shoulder again. “Don’t worry about it. I know you big-city girls think you’re all-powerful, responsible for every choice the Universe makes and all that, but you aren’t responsible for my dad’s death. Or the fact that your dad is still alive.” He pointed up at the sky. “That’s beyond even you, you know?”

  My shoulder tingled in the spot where he had briefly touched it. I followed his finger to the sky, taking a moment to revel in the brightness of the stars. Looking up at them made me feel impossibly small, in the best sort of way. “I told you already, I’m not from a big city.”

  “I know,” he said, smiling. “It’s just fun to tease you.”

  I shook my head, laughing a little. “Does that mean you’ve revised your opinion of me from this morning?”

  “This morning? I changed my mind the moment I saw you.”

  We stepped out of the woods into the clearing. The shadowy outline of the Oliver farmhouse hovered in the distance.

  “That’s not true,” I said softly, not completely trusting my voice.

  He touched my arm lightly. “Yes, it is. I saw you this morning and I . . .” He trailed off for a moment.

  “And you . . . ?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m trying to think of how to say this in a way that will make sense.”

  I stayed quiet, waiting.

  “This morning, I saw you walking along this fence.” He gestured to his side where the white equestrian-style fence was, dividing the Oliver property from his own. “And I recognized something in you.”

  “Recognized?”

  “Yeah. Something about you felt so familiar. I don’t know why, but . . .” He pulled at the hem of his shirt. “But I want to,” he finished, leveling his eyes with mine.

  I found myself bracing. I’m not sure why. It’s a funny thing how excitement, like hope, can feel a whole lot like fear. “You mistook me for someone else?”

  “No, silly,” he said, and his voice was gaining strength. “I recognized something in you. There was something about the way you were walking.”

  “What about it?” I pressed. “My terrible posture?”

  He laughed. “No.”

  “Then what?”

  He shook his head. “It’ll sound dumb.”

  “Try me.”

  “You seemed lost and found at the same time. And that’s how I usually feel too.”

  X.

  It was late when we got home. I said a quick good night to the twins and then padded up the stairs. I tiptoed into the guest bedroom and flopped down on my bed. It seemed lonely in the room without Harlow.

  If she had still been here, I probably would’ve crawled into her bed and laid next to her—head to head, toe to toe, like how we used to do when we were little. When Har first came out in eighth grade, some idiots relentlessly teased me. They asked if I was worried that Harlow would creep on me while I changed or crawl into my bed in the middle of the night during sleepovers—all of which were obviously ridiculous concerns. Anyone who knew us would’ve known I was the one always crawling into Harlow’s sleeping bag, as I was the one who had night terrors. (Not to mention, if I were gay, Harlow would’ve been way out of my leagu
e.)

  But she wasn’t here anymore, so I rolled onto my side and tried to go to sleep. But I couldn’t. I took a deep breath and reached for my phone. I dialed Harlow’s number.

  After three rings, I was almost certain she wasn’t going to answer.

  But after the fourth ring, she picked up. “Tal?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Did you get home okay?” I could hear people chatting in the background and I wondered where she was.

  “Yeah. But how are you?”

  “Weird,” I said. “Really weird. And I’m still pissed at you.”

  There was a long pause. For a moment, I wondered if Harlow had hung up. But then I heard breathing—a series of long exhales. I imagined her pacing across a room.

  “I know,” she finally said.

  “I don’t want us to grow apart.”

  “I know,” she repeated. “I don’t want that either.”

  “But sometimes it feels like you do.”

  “I just want us to both have the chance to grow. To change. But that doesn’t have to mean growing apart,” she said.

  I thought of what Debra had told me about love being a living and changing thing. About how the tricky thing was learning to accept different and new versions of the people you loved. The problem was that it seemed like I was never the one who changed. It seems like it’s harder to watch the people you love change and grow when you feel like you’re staying exactly the same. When you feel stuck.

  But maybe tonight I had changed. Even if it was only a tiny bit.

  “You’ll never guess what happened tonight,” I said.

  “What?” she said, and I could hear the curiosity in her voice. That made me smile. So I told her all about the lake and the slight progress I’d made with the twins. And Toby.

  “Wait,” she said when I was finished. “You guys didn’t kiss?”

  I laughed. Of course that was Harlow’s first question. “Nope. Plus, it would’ve been too weird anyway. It feels like the wrong timing.”

  She made a noise.

  “What?”

  “I thought you were going to work on giving more new people a chance?”

  “I am!” I protested. “I went to the lake, didn’t I? And you would’ve been so proud of me. I actually talked to him. About real things. I hardly recognized myself. Like, Har, I answered his questions. Personal questions.”

  “I am proud of you,” she said, and I smiled to myself in the darkness of the room. “But seriously. No kiss?”

  “Harlow! It’s the wrong time. And the wrong place.”

  “What’s so wrong about Oak Falls? ‘Nothing, like something, happens anywhere.’”

  My smile widened. Harlow was quoting the Philip Larkin poem “I Remember, I Remember,” which she and I dissected last year in English class. She’d loved that line, and I’d thought it was stupid and nonsensical because it was so obvious.

  But maybe what Harlow got then is what I’m starting to understand now—that it’s sometimes the most obvious things that need to be said the most.

  “Hey, Har?”

  “Yeah?” she said.

  “I’m glad you came with me. Even if I’m still mad at you for leaving.”

  “I’m glad I came too,” she breathed.

  “We’re going to be okay, right?”

  There was a long pause on her end. I thought for a moment we had been disconnected, but then she finally said, “Yeah, Tal. We’re going to be okay.”

  There was another stretch of silence and then she said, “Before we hang up, I need you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to call your mom.”

  “What?” I sat up with force and clutched the phone tightly.

  “Please, Tal. I’d feel better if you called her. Besides, you promised me that you’d call her once we got to Oak Falls.”

  “And you promised that you’d stay with me. And you didn’t,” I shot back.

  “No. I. Did. Not,” she argued. “I said I would come with you on what I thought was an ill-advised trip, but have since come around to thinking otherwise.” And then she quickly added, “But I haven’t changed my opinion on the fact you need to call your mom.”

  “Ugh,” I repeated.

  “Tal, you should call her now. Just get it over with.”

  “Can’t it wait until tomorrow morning?”

  “Just do it now,” Harlow pleaded.

  “I don’t even know what time it is in Paris. She’s probably just waking up. Or busy.”

  “That’s a flimsy excuse and you know it.”

  I slouched back down, resting my shoulders against the headboard. “I don’t know, Harlow. The truth is, the more Julian tells me, the more I wonder if I don’t really know my mom as well as I thought I did. Like tonight, I found out she was the one who first ended things. Can you believe that?”

  Harlow made a surprised sound.

  “See?” I pressed. “It’s weird.”

  “Yeah. All the more reason why you should call her. You haven’t given her a chance to tell you her side of the story.”

  “She only had sixteen years,” I pointed out.

  “I’m sure she had her reasons,” Harlow said diplomatically. For all her punk rock bravado, she still had a deep respect for authority figures.

  “Maybe I could just email her. She doesn’t like to pay international premiums.”

  “Taliah. Stop messing around. And call her. Please.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Text me once you’ve done it?”

  I agreed reluctantly and hung up on Harlow. I scrolled through my contacts and selected Mom. She had a paintbrush emoji next to her name. I assigned all my contacts corresponding emojis. For a moment, I let myself wonder about whether I would ever have Julian’s number and what emoji I would select for him.

  I pressed Call and brought the phone to my ear. I listened to it ring and hoped beyond hope that Mom was asleep and she’d turned her ringer on silent. When I heard the sound of her automated voice informing me that I’d reached Lena Abdallat’s voicemail, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  At the beep, I left my message: “Mom, it’s Tal. So don’t freak out, everything’s okay. I’m safe and healthy and everything, but there’s something I need to tell you. And it seems wrong to be telling you this over voicemail but . . .” I trailed off, my nerves getting the best of me.

  I swallowed, gathering my courage, and continued, “You’ll never guess who showed up on our doorstep. Julian Oliver. Yeah. So the thing is . . . well . . . a while ago . . . You know what. Never mind. I’ll explain the details later. But I just wanted to let you know that I’m in Oak Falls with Julian. Tom had a stroke and he’s really sick and they think he might die, so Julian wanted to come back home. Tom is Julian’s dad. Wait. You know that already. Okay . . . well, this is getting really weird and—”

  The automated voicemail robot was back. I elected to save my rambling message, and then hung up the phone.

  DAY THREE

  (In Which I Learn That a Pause Is Sometimes a Way of Holding On)

  I.

  In the morning I was waiting for Julian to come downstairs when Debra caught me eyeing the piano.

  “That’s right,” she said. “You know how to play.” I’d woken up before anyone else. The twins were presumably still asleep and Aunt Sarah was in the shower. When Julian had woken up, he’d knocked on my door to make a plan for the day, and I guess Debra had heard us talking because she materialized in the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

  “Will you play something for me?”

  I hesitated. I glanced down at the piano. It was exactly the style of piano I would’ve guessed Debra would own. It was simple and made of solid dark wood that showed its age and had a couple of scratches. It was nothing fancy, but the keys were in perfect condition.

  “Did Julian ever play?”

  Debra laughed lightly. “Julian was never that into the piano. He told me it was a church instrument. He
was always much more interested in the guitar.”

  I smiled. “Sounds like him, I guess.”

  “So, will you?” Debra prompted. “Play me something?” She sat down on the love seat that was adjacent to the piano.

  I swallowed. “What would you like me to play?”

  “Anything,” she said cheerfully, tossing her hands in the air. “I’m not picky.” But then she added, “Do you write your own songs? If so, I’d like to hear one of those.”

  I squirmed on the piano bench. “I don’t know.” My fingers hovered over the keys. “I’ve never written anything that special. And everything is really rough.”

  “Taliah?” Debra said, and I looked up at her.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m your grandma. Not a music critic. Please just let me hear one of your songs.”

  I laughed a little. “That might be true, but you’re Julian Oliver’s mom, so that’s sort of intimidating.”

  She waved me off. “Hogwash.” And then she dipped her chin to her chest and leaned toward me in a conspiratorial way. “To be honest,” she whispered, “I’ve never understood Julian’s music. I love it because he made it and I love him with my whole heart, but I don’t have the ear to understand what makes it so special.” She paused, and then smiled broadly. “Tom did, though. Tom would listen to all of Julian’s songs and analyze them piece by piece.”

  My eyes widened. “Really? I thought Tom hated Julian’s music.”

  Debra shook her head. “No, no. That was one of the huge misunderstandings between them. I think Tom may have resented Julian’s music when he was younger, but he loved all of Staring Into the Abyss’s records. Actually . . .” She trailed off, a look of sadness washing over her face. “Right before his stroke, he’d asked me if I knew when the band planned to release a new record.”

  “Really?” I repeated.

  “Truly,” she said. “It’s been a while since they’ve released a new album now, hasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. There’s a lot of pressure on them.”

  Her face had a quintessential worried mom expression. “Hopefully not too much pressure.”