A Song for Julia (20 page)

“I finally got out of there … it was late afternoon and snowing. And I didn’t speak much more Chinese than ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ No one in that part of the city spoke English. I was lost and terrified and bleeding and … it was a nightmare.”

“What happened?” Sean asked.

She shrugged. “I finally found my way home. It was almost midnight, and my parents grounded me. And I tried to put my life back together. But my senior year, when I was in Bethesda, word got out.”

Oh, God, I thought, closing my eyes. 

“How?” Sean asked.

I opened my eyes. She smiled bitterly. “My best friend and I got into a fight right before I left China. And she emailed the story to everyone at our school, but twisted it. She had a picture. I don’t know where she got it. But it was me, and I was drunk … and … anyway. One thing led to another, and the story got out with the students at my new school.”

“Were they mean?”

She nodded. Her eyes were watery, bloodshot. “Yes. I know some people have worse problems, and it seems trivial. But I would walk down the halls, and hear them whisper,
slut
and
whore
, and worse. Every day. No one would talk to me. No one would even be civil. And my mother—you have to understand, we were supposed to be in Russia. It was supposed to be the crown of my father’s career, as Ambassador to Russia. But because of the rumors, one of the Senators blocked his appointment for two years. So my parents weren’t very understanding. I went home every night that year, locked myself in my room, and cried myself to sleep. I promised myself I’d never trust anyone again.”

Damn, I thought, looking in. Her story was near enough to bringing me to tears, and a look in showed that Sean was crying. “Sometimes I feel like killing people who do stuff like that,” he said, his tone vicious. “They do the same stuff to me sometimes. Call me names. Push me around.”

She put her right arm around his shoulder. Usually, when someone touches Sean, he moves away and quickly. He didn’t this time. “It gets better.”

“How?” he asked, his voice full of grief.

“Time,” she said. “Distance.”

“But you said you’d never trust anyone again. Why did you tell me?”

She gave him a sad smile. “Because you’re special. You’re just like me. So I know I can trust you.”

He didn’t answer right away. It was like he was processing what she said, trying to make sense of it. To be honest, I was too. 

After a couple minutes of silence, the two of them just sitting together, he said, “Last year, on my birthday, my dad gave me Grandpa’s first police hat. And I wore it, all the time. The kids at school made fun of me. I know it was stupid. Nobody at school wears things like that. But I liked it. When I was little I wanted to be a cop, like my dad. But one day, they grabbed me and pulled me in the bathroom, and stuffed it down the toilet.”

I could see his fists clenched as he told the story, and his face was screwed up: angry, eyes narrowed, eyebrows drawn down. He looked like he wanted to slam a fist through a wall.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I got suspended for a week because I fought back. That’s what always happens. They can push me around or hit me and get away with it, but if I do anything, I get punished. It’s not even just at school. When Dad’s National Guard unit was activated after September 11, I had to go live with Grandpa for a while. And he was just the same. I hate them.”

Jesus. I knew it was bad for him. But I didn’t know it was that bad. 

She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms back around her knees again. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Sean.”

“Do you think I should apologize to my mom?”

I held my breath. Sean hadn’t spoken to our mother in … well, pretty much as long as me. And I was starting to realize, maybe I wasn’t as innocent as I thought. I mean, I know kids, when their parents separate, always wonder if it was their fault.

But I’ve got pretty good reason to suspect it was mine.

After a few seconds, she answered him. “I think you should consider it. One of the things we have to learn to do in life is forgive people. And that’s hard. But when you forgive someone, it helps you as much as it does them. Probably more.”

“Do you think she’ll forgive me?” he asked.

“For what you said to her?”

“No. For having Asperger’s.”

She took in a sharp breath. Jesus, that poor screwed up kid. Why did he think he needed forgiveness for being who he was? She didn’t jump in with an off the cuff, immediate answer. She didn’t say some empty phrase to reassure him. Instead, she thought about it and said, “I don’t know your mom, Sean. But anyone can see she loves you. I think it’s a start.”

“I’ll be down in a few minutes, then.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll give you some time alone.”

She leaned forward and rose from her sitting position. Then she stopped and turned toward him, knelt down, and kissed him on the top of his head.

I should have walked away, instead of standing there, obviously eavesdropping. As she approached the door, I heard Sean say to her, “Julia, will you be my friend? Even if you and Crank don’t end up …” He trailed off, unable to articulate whatever it was he’d intended to say.

She answered that immediately. “Sean … I can’t get involved with your brother. He’s … the one thing I have left in life is control. And I can’t give that up. But being your friend? I already am.”

Then she stepped out into the hall and nearly walked into me.

Immediately her face flashed fear. Not anger, which I expected. Rage, that I’d been eavesdropping, that I expected. Especially anger that I’d heard her secrets, that I’d heard her fear of loss of control. But instead, her eyes went wide when she saw me. It was definitely fear. 

“How much of that did you hear?” she whispered.

“Too much,” I replied.

She took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. She spoke quietly, but firmly. She was giving an order, her lips tight, her tone of voice demanding. “I don’t need to say anything about you and me. But your brother—I’m his friend. Don’t you dare get in the way of that.”

And then she walked around me, back straight, her shoulders thrown back, and went down the stairs.

I stood there for a few more seconds, watching her go. And I couldn’t do anything but admire her courage, her compassion. I wanted her. I wanted her so badly I was shaking. And for the first time since I was a preteen, standing up on a stage and shouting obscenities wasn’t going to get me what I wanted.

I had no idea what to do.

CHAPTER TEN

A little shaky (Julia)

It was time for me to go. I’d butted my way into one too many family arguments already tonight, but something about Sean made me fiercely protective. He was a good kid—a nice kid who had been through way too much and didn’t even understand why other people thought he was odd.

My stomach turned at the thought that Crank had overheard my discussion with Sean. That he knew what Harry had done to me. I never discussed it with anyone. Ever. Once I had with Lana. She was the only person in the world other than Harry and me who knew the whole story, and look what she’d done. She’d used it to hurt me. 

I hadn’t planned on suddenly trusting anyone. But this was much worse—I certainly hadn’t planned on trusting someone with it unintentionally. And while I was intrigued by Crank and more than a little attracted to him, I didn’t trust him. Handsome, charming man? No. Never again.

Mrs. Doyle was gone when I got back downstairs. Jack, Tony and Margot were sitting at the kitchen table, a beer in front of each of them. It was six o’clock already, dark outside and probably cold as hell, and I’d taken the T to South Boston rather than driving. Which meant I’d have to get a ride from Crank back to Broadway Station when he came back downstairs. I could walk it, but as cold as it was outside, I really, really didn’t want to.

Maybe I could get a ride with Tony instead.

“Sit down, grab a beer,” Jack said to me.

Tony leaned over toward the fridge, still in his seat, and pulled a bottle of beer out for me. I twisted the top off and took a seat. I would need to go soon, but at the very least, I had to wait until Sean and Crank came back down.

“I want to apologize,” Jack said. “I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay. I’ve got a family, too—I get it. Things happen we wish … hadn’t.”

Jack and Margot both gave me odd, curious looks after I said that. I ignored them. I’d done all the sharing I was planning on doing for the next five years. I already felt raw, exposed. Normally I walked around in a cocoon of quiet, as if my emotions were wounds packed with cotton and gauze. Now that protective cover felt as if it had been ripped off and might start bleeding again any moment.

“It’s time I got going,” Margot said.

Jack sighed, and the look of longing in his face couldn’t be ignored. I didn’t understand what had happened to Jack and Margot, but whatever it was, it hadn’t dimmed their love for each other. 

“I’ll walk you out,” he said.

They stood, and that’s when Sean appeared in the doorway, trailed by Crank.

“Mama?” Sean’s face looked open and vulnerable, though his eyes were turned away, focused on the wall.

She looked as if the weight of all the regrets in the world had slammed into her, leaving her gasping for breath. “Yes, Sean?” she said.

When he spoke, his tone was subtly different than normal. I’d mostly heard him sounding monotone, his voice pitched just a little higher and louder than normal conversation. Now, he spoke quietly, and there was a rich undertone of sorrow in his words. “I’m sorry.”

At the words, her eyes instantly went red and wet with tears. The look of relief on her face was painful to watch. She slowly approached him. His eyes were still turned away, but he put his arms out and very awkwardly hugged her.

Margot choked back a sob. “I love you, baby,” she whispered.

They broke apart, and she looked at him, and he looked at the wall.

“I’ll come see you again soon. Is that okay?”

He nodded his head, stiffly, his eyes still looking off toward the wall. “I’d like that.”

I covered my mouth with my right hand and sniffed. It almost hurt to watch the awkward, painful interchange between them. This was too much. Too much emotion, too much pain, just too much. I needed to get back to my room, get a good book to read, and escape. Get grounded again, get back in control of the feelings that were twisting through me like a storm, tearing down levees and buildings and leaving me directionless and confused. Jack and Margot walked out into the living room, and Sean walked out as well, without a word to the rest of us. I didn’t know what it had cost him to make that apology. But I knew he’d gained a lot more from it.

I stood, a little shaky. “Crank … can I get a ride from you to Broadway station?”

“I’ll take you home,” he said.

“It’s not necessary.”

“I want to,” he replied.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He opened his mouth to speak again and stopped. Then he shook his head and gave in. “All right. Whatever you want.”

So I walked around the table to the doorway and stopped cold. 

Jack and Margot stood together at the front door. She wore her coat and scarf. His hands held her arms and their foreheads were touching. It was as intimate a pose as I’d ever seen two people. She had such an expression of longing and grief on her face that I almost burst into tears. He was whispering something, I don’t know what, but tears rolled down her cheeks as he said it. She nodded at his whisper and put her hands on his shoulders.

I stepped back instinctively, not wanting to violate such a private moment, and Crank did too, so we ended up standing next to each other in the doorway, arms touching, both of us unable to watch, but unable to turn away.

Jack whispered something else, and she replied, but they were too quiet, too private for me to hear. Watching them, I didn’t know what to think. What happened between them? How could two people so obviously, painfully in love with each other, be separated?

 Finally, Jack took her face between his hands, and slowly, gently, lovingly kissed her on the forehead.  

“Go,” he said, still whispering, but loudly enough I could just barely hear him, “I love you, Margot.”

I swallowed, trying to keep my eyes from watering. Never, at least not since I was fourteen, had I wanted someone to say those words, to look at me like that, to hold me like that, to kiss me like that. But seeing this threw me all out of whack, all over again. 

Her shoulders started to convulse in silent grief, and she pulled away. He opened the front door for her, and she slipped out into the darkness, alone.

Jack stood there, watching her go, one hand on the doorframe, and the other limp by his side, powerless to do anything to stop her from going. He looked defeated.

I sniffed again and wiped my hand furiously across my watering eyes. Then I pictured myself, sitting alone on the red line on my way back to Cambridge, and I … I couldn’t do it. Right now I couldn’t face that ride alone. I didn’t want to be alone. I whispered to Crank, “I’ve changed my mind. If you’re still willing to take me all the way home, I’d be grateful.”

He turned to me, giving me a look I couldn’t read. “No problem, Julia. Whatever you want.”

Take. Me. Home. (Crank)

“Why did your parents separate?” Julia asked me, a few minutes after we left my dad’s house. It had taken a few minutes to get ourselves together, bundled into coats and hats, and then I couldn’t find my car keys, but finally we made it out, and rode the first several minutes in complete silence. I was just about to turn on the stereo when she asked the question.

Instead of turning it on, I dropped my hand back to the wheel.

I thought about her question. There were no answers to it. There were a hundred answers to it. And I didn’t know all of them. All I had was guesses and suppositions and blame. And it was obvious what prompted the question. That scene at the door. My parents were nothing if not dramatic, and it was obvious to even the most hardheaded punk rocker that they loved each other, which left exactly two clear reasons for her to leave. Me and Sean.