“Oh,” said Harlow.
Julian took a deep breath. “All right. Here we go.” He stepped out of the car, and Harlow and I followed suit.
“Mama,” he called out as he walked toward the porch. Harlow and I followed behind him.
“You made it,” she said, and I detected something in her voice. Surprise? Bitterness, maybe. Or at least the hollow ring of sadness.
“Mama,” he repeated. “I told you I would come. And I’m here.”
Something like relief washed over her face. Her eyes lit up as she pulled Julian into a long embrace. As Harlow and I got closer, I could see that her eyes were the same glacier blue as mine.
“Oh my,” she breathed as we got closer. “Who are these girls, JP?” She grimaced. “They are much too young for you. Are you ladies even eighteen?”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. And then she gasped. “Oh my heavens.” She clasped her hand over her heart and turned to Julian. “JP, is she . . . ?”
He nodded. “Lena’s.”
Her gaze flitted from Julian to me and back again. “Those eyes, though . . .”
He nodded again. “Meet Taliah. Your granddaughter.”
She gasped again and clutched at the neckline of her robe. “Granddaughter?” She turned to Julian for clarification.
“It’s a long story,” he said in a slow and stilted way.
“A long story, huh?” she pushed.
“Mama, I promise to tell you everything, but it’s late.” I could hear the desperation in his voice; it made me feel unbearably awkward.
Her eyes flitted from Julian to me and back again. “I don’t know what to say. . . .”
I stared down at my sneakers, debating whether or not I should walk back to the car. “I’m sorry,” I finally managed to say.
“Sorry?” she exclaimed. “Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for.” She walked toward me and clutched my face in her hands. “I’m so glad your father has finally brought you home.”
Home, my brain repeated. H-O-M-E. So many mysteries, so many feelings, so many questions wrapped up in those four letters.
DAY TWO
(In Which I Learn About the Multiplicity of Self)
I.
I woke up before Harlow. It took me a moment or two to remember where I was. The creaky twin mattress and plaid comforter were startlingly unfamiliar. I rolled over onto my side and groaned, and then groggily slipped out of bed. I pulled my jeans back on. I’d slept in my striped T-shirt from yesterday. I sniffed it. It had at least another day left in it.
I crept down the hallway. The other bedroom doors were still closed tight. I checked my phone and saw it was only 6:03 a.m. I never woke up that early, but I guess my body knew I was in a different and strange place, so it decided to adjust accordingly by doing different and strange things.
I had bad reception in Oak Falls, but after a few painful seconds my phone dinged and I saw an email from Mom pop up. Harlow always compares my relationship with my Mom to Lorelai and Rory Gilmore’s, but I take some issue with that comparison. First, I feel like any mom and daughter who are close and the mom is relatively attractive get compared to Lorelai and Rory.
Admittedly Mom and I are pretty inseparable, which is basically the only way to be when it’s just the two of us. We have our routines—sushi night on Tuesdays at Hiro, and Saturday-afternoon movie matinees at the Edgecliff. I’m almost always her date to any of her academic functions or gallery openings, and we help each other get dressed, offering advice (that is sometimes taken, sometimes not) on shoes and lipstick color.
But Mom is much stricter than Lorelai. Or maybe I just feel that way because I’m her daughter.
I touched the screen to open the email. I held my breath, feeling impossibly guilty. I hadn’t even technically lied to her yet, and still. The withholding of information almost felt worse. Especially when I was used to sharing almost everything with Mom.
HB,
Good morning from Paris! I walked the streets around my hotel this morning and treated myself to a pain au chocolat and a café au lait, which made me miss you so much as I remembered our last trip here and how I think you ate the whole country of France out of pain au chocolat!
I’m heading over to the gallery this afternoon to preview the space. I’m feeling very excited about the talent they’ve booked for the opening. Should be wonderful. I might bop over to the Cluny afterwards. Do you remember how much you loved the unicorn tapestries? Exquisite.
How are you? Is Harlow still there? I hope you girls are behaving and not getting yourself into too much trouble. Remember you can always call my cell phone if there’s an emergency, but no need to pay the long-distance charges if everything is fine.
Have I already told you I miss you? I miss you, my sweet girl.
Xo,
Mom
Mom always addresses me as HB in our correspondence. It’s an inside joke of sorts. She calls me habibti, the blanket Arabic endearment. And since she claims “kids these days” abbreviate everything, she started calling me “HB” and it stuck.
I fiddled with my phone, my fingers anxiously hovering over the screen. I finally decided on a quick but simple reply:
Hi! Sounds like you are having lots of fun! Harlow and I are fine. We’re also having an interesting time. Will tell you about it when you get home!
Love you,
Tal
Not a lie, but not exactly the truth. I wish there was a word for that middle ground. It should be “truelie” or something like that.
I put my phone back in my pocket and continued to creep down the hall. When I reached the study, I saw the door was halfway open. I peeked inside and spotted Julian passed out on his side on the futon. He hadn’t even bothered to put sheets on it. I debated waking him up, but decided against it.
I padded down the wooden staircase that was covered with a shaggy oatmeal-colored carpet runner. The kitchen was empty. Last night when Grandma—or Debra, as I was still referring to her because it was too much to just call her Grandma (or rather, Nana, as she’d requested) right off the bat—invited us in, she’d pulled several casseroles out of the refrigerator and heated them.
“Folks don’t know what to do about the fact that Tom’s . . .” she’d said, trailing off as she unwrapped the tinfoil off of one of the casseroles. The reality of Tom’s state hovered silently in the air. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and let out an audible exhale. She turned to face me. “The people around here are very kind. What they lack in knowledge of what to say, they make up for in casserole-making. God bless the people of Oak Falls.”
Once Debra had heated all the casseroles, she gave me a pointed look. “You’re my first granddaughter. It’s been all boys until you. And I want to know every single thing about you, but tomorrow we’re going to the hospital to possibly say good-bye to my husband of fifty-two years. And so for the time being, I need to be in my room.” She paused and her eyes drifted from me to Julian. “I fixed up the upstairs guest room with the hope that you’d come home, JP. But now that you’re all here, why don’t you take the futon in . . .” She paused again and a pained look came over her face. She pursed her lips together and shook her head like she was fighting against the tornado of emotions brewing inside of her.
“Mama, it’s okay,” Julian said softly. “I’ll make sure the girls get set up in the guest room, and don’t you worry about me. I’ll find somewhere to sleep.”
She nodded and gave him a look like she was seeing a ghost. “I’ll see you all in the morning” was all she said, and then she left the kitchen.
We all took halfhearted bites of meaty lasagna and cheesy broccoli and Harlow and Julian helped themselves to second servings of a potato bake that was sprinkled with bacon. (Perhaps the only Islamic tradition observed in our household was that Mom and I didn’t eat any pork products, and I couldn’t bring myself to eat the bacon. I already felt guilty enough as it was.)
“You don’t want any?” Julian asked
, pushing the potato bake dish closer to me.
I shook my head. “I don’t eat bacon.”
Julian paused and set his fork down on the table. He gave me a curious look. “But I thought you said you weren’t religious.”
I shrugged. I was too overwhelmed to try to explain the detailed nuances of the rules my mother had set.
“Well, I think I’m going to follow Mom’s lead and go to bed, too,” Julian said. “I’m an old man these days and today has been . . . long.”
“It’s only eleven,” Harlow protested. “You should take us somewhere cool in Oak Falls.”
I kicked Harlow under the table. I wanted her to knock it off. I was also tired, and lying down sounded really good to me, even if I wasn’t certain I would be able to get to sleep.
“It’s Oak Falls,” Julian deadpanned. “There’s nothing cool.”
“Come on,” Harlow said. “You’re Julian Oliver. You must know of something cool. Isn’t Oak Falls a college town?”
“JP,” I said without thinking.
He gave me a weak smile. “Yes. In this house, I’m JP. Not Julian Oliver.”
“And JP is your lame alter ego?” Harlow teased.
He shrugged and a long silence stretched between us. I kept waiting for him to get up and go to bed like he’d declared he was going to, but instead he stayed planted at the breakfast bar, dragging his fork through the meaty lasagna.
“JP is my best self,” Julian finally said, sounding like one of those new age-y self-help books.
“Your best self?” I asked tentatively.
“Yes,” he said. “It just took me a long time to realize it.” His eyes went hazy and I assumed he was thinking about his dad. Or maybe Mom. “Maybe, really, it actually took me until now to.”
As much as I wanted to push him to elaborate on that, I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to enter such a personal space with him. It had always been just Mom and me. I knew how to talk to Mom about anything. Well, anything other than Julian.
A nervousness nibbled in my stomach and I stood up from my chair. “Well, I’m going to go to bed, too.”
“Taliah?” Julian said.
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” I said, because it was the most honest answer.
“Me either.”
I stood frozen in the kitchen for a brief moment. So far, being in the Oliver household had been like living inside a movie that was playing at half speed. Each action was elongated; too much time was allotted to overanalyze and agonize over the meaning of every single gesture, every quip. I needed someone to press fast-forward.
But maybe half speed was the side effect of grief. I wasn’t familiar enough with loss or the anticipation of it to really know.
I gave Julian a halfhearted wave and glanced at Harlow, who was absorbed in her phone. “See you guys in the morning.”
And now it was morning. I slipped outside the front door, and even though it was early, the sun was already high in the sky. It fell against my skin as I ambled along the edge of the property, ducking under the shade of some tall and leafy oak trees that were planted beside the white equestrian-style fence that snaked around the Olivers’ land.
The property seemed to stretch on endlessly. As far as I could see, there were grassy, rolling hills. An earthy musk floated in the air. It smelled like mud. And maybe cows. I squinted, trying to catch sight of any livestock, but I couldn’t spot any. I craned my neck to look over at the other side of the fence.
“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice called out.
I froze, unsure whether I should turn around.
“Hello?” the voice called again.
I stayed in the shade of the oaks and started to run back toward the farmhouse. I kept my eyes down out of fear of making accidental eye contact and focused on the grass, which was wet with morning dew and tickled my ankles.
Even with my face aimed down, I could see the house emerging on the horizon. I let out a deep breath of relief and then I felt my body collide against someone else. I tumbled backwards with a thud, and splayed out in the damp grass.
“Oh dang!” the same voice from before howled. “You okay?”
A hand stretched out in my direction. I didn’t have the courage to glance up at the face that went along with the hand.
The hand didn’t move. “You came home with JP, right?”
I refused to grasp the outstretched hand and instead helped myself up. Once I was back on my own two feet, I took a deep breath. The face I found in front of me was warm. It belonged to a guy who appeared to be about my age. He was sun-freckled, with floppy auburn hair that curled up around his ears. It was long in a way that seemed hip, but the length somehow seemed less like a purposeful style choice and more related to a lack of attention. He was wearing a gray baseball cap. He had wide brown eyes that reminded me of a puppy in the best sort of way. My body, at odds with my anxious mind, slowly relaxed.
“Yes,” I said, my eyes flitting around his face, unsure where to settle. “I’m Julian’s daughter,” I said without thinking, and then instantly regretted it.
“I know,” he said. “Word travels fast around here.”
“I’ve been here less than twelve hours.”
“Your cousins told me,” he explained.
“My cousins?”
“Yeah. Brady and Carter.”
I tried not to look as clueless as I felt. “Brady and Carter,” I repeated.
He gave me a self-assured grin that I probably would’ve found charming a few moments ago, but now found irritating. “Yeah. I know you don’t know who they are. But they know who you are.”
I forced myself to laugh. “That’s a little creepy.”
“There’s not much happening here in Oak Falls. Especially on this side of town. And especially amongst us townies.” He gestured toward the other side of the fence. “I live next door. I’m Toby, by the way.” He stuck his hand back out again.
I tentatively shook it. Treating it as though it were a hot potato. A quick grab, shake, and drop.
“I’m Taliah.”
“Yeah. I know,” he said, the self-assured grin reappearing on his face. I didn’t know anyone who was that happy. If anything, the people I knew often pretended to be less happy than they were.
“I’m sorry about Tom,” he offered.
“I’ve never met him,” I said in a way that I’d hoped would sound frank and actually came out sounding a little callous. I winced.
“Then I’m sorry about that.” Toby looked like he was about to say something else, but instead played with the bill of his baseball cap. “So what are you doing up so early?”
“I’m a morning person.”
He squinted at me. “I’m going to call bunk on that.”
“Bunk?”
He shrugged, and I saw a bit of self-consciousness cross his face. “Hooey. You know . . .”
“Bullshit,” I filled in. “And you are right. But how’d you know?”
He shrugged again. “I’m a good guesser.”
“Right,” I said, and then added, as if I had to explain my early-morning activities to Toby, “I don’t sleep well in strange places.”
“Understandable,” he said, and despite my aversion to it before, I made eye contact with him. He was admittedly very cute, though I felt like that was probably one of the last things he would want you to notice about him, which somehow made him cuter. Goddamnit.
“What?” he said after I’d stared him down for a good minute.
“I’m just trying to figure you out.”
He laughed. “And you think you can figure out us simple folks from Oak Falls just by staring at us for a moment or two?”
I blanched. “No, no. That’s not it at all.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know. You’re being incredibly friendly to someone you don’t know.”
Toby whistled to himself.
“What?” I asked, feeling a little s
elf-conscious.
“I just find it very interesting that you’re characterizing my behavior as ‘very friendly.’ Maybe Brady and Carter were right about you.”
“Excuse me?” It took me a second to process that my cousins, who, up until a few moments ago, I hadn’t even known existed, had already judged me. These were the moments when I was convinced Mom was right about the human race—the majority of people should not be trusted.
“They figured you’d be . . .” He looked nervous. Some of his bravado had faded.
“I’d be?” I prompted.
“You know. Think you’re better than all of us since you’re Julian Oliver’s daughter.”
Before I had a chance to say anything, Toby continued, “But I thought they might be judging you too quickly. So I figured I’d check you out for myself.”
“Right,” I said dryly. “And what’s your assessment?”
“Jury’s still out,” he said pleasantly, and fiddled with the bill of his baseball cap again. He leaned his back against the fence.
“Did you just hop over that when you saw me walking around?”
He nodded proudly. “Guilty as charged.”
“Is that allowed? Hopping onto someone else’s property like that?”
“Depends who’s asking. You’d be surprised. The crazy stuff that goes down here in Oak Falls.”
I laughed. “Okay then.” I briefly relished the fact that Toby had the distinct privilege of being the first boy to hop over a fence to talk to me. And then felt embarrassed by the fact I was relishing that at all.
Your grandfather is dying, I reminded myself.
But you don’t even know him, my mind argued.
But still, my conscience fired back.
“Let’s walk down to the lake,” he said, as if that was the most natural suggestion in the whole world.
“The lake?”
Toby pointed off into the distance. “Yeah. There’s a lake that sits at the far edge of your property.” Then he quickly corrected himself. “Of your grandparents’ property.” And then corrected himself again. “Of Debra’s property.”
“And this lake is one of the things that will reveal Oak Falls to have more going on than meets the eye?”