Inevitable and Only(44)

Raven came along for the short ride, although she promised me she’d go back to the dance afterward. I didn’t know if Raven had told her what happened, but Renata didn’t ask me any questions. Raven got in the back seat with me and put her arm around me. I was grateful for her bony shoulder to lean on. I closed my eyes and tried to just not think.

When we reached my house, Renata only said, “Good night, kiddo. You look stunning.”

“Thanks,” I managed. “Sorry to put you to trouble.”

She shook her head. “Nonsense. You’re my other daughter. You know that.”

Raven got out of the car to give me a hug. “That’s still a killer dress, National Park Greenfield. The next time you wear it you’ll be with someone who’s not a total douche.”

I hugged her back, not trusting my voice to thank her. Anyway, she knew.

Inside, I crept up the stairs, hoping not to have to face Dad. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Someone was waiting at the top of the stairs, though. Josh. He took one look at my tearstained face and went to get his cello.

When was the last time I’d spent more than ten minutes with Josh, other than mealtimes? As I changed into my pajamas, I tried to remember. We’d barely talked since Elizabeth had moved in. Not that he ever talked much, but we used to spend time together, at least. I’d been too busy with my own problems lately to make time for him. And one of Josh’s talents was blending into the background. Like a little chameleon. His competition was coming up in mid-December, and I had no idea how he was feeling about it. Barely any idea what he was playing. Popper something? Requiem? Rhapsody?

“You’re a chameleon,” I told him when he brought the cello into my room. He perched on the bed and raised an eyebrow at me.

“It made sense in my head,” I mumbled, suddenly exhausted. My words were slurred, as if I’d been drinking. I was dehydrated from crying. Tipsy on tears. “Oh, Josh,” I said. “Why can’t we just move back to Ahimsa House? Maybe that would fix everything. I know you don’t remember it. But you’d love it, trust me. Things were so different there. Mom and Dad were … so much happier. Sometimes I wish we could go back.”

He looked at me thoughtfully and drew the bow across the strings. I felt every tight muscle in my shoulders soften at the sound. When Josh played his cello, I could forget anything that was bothering me and relax into the music.

“Was it really that different?” he asked.

“Ahimsa House?”

He nodded.

“Mom was like—another person. Trust me.”

Josh played a few more open strings. “Did you know she wants to send me to Michigan?”

“What?”

“For high school. Interlochen. She mentioned it to Olga last week.”

“Well … high school’s still pretty far off for you. Don’t worry about it yet.”

He shrugged, plucked a chord. “What do you want to hear?”

“Anything you want to play.”

So I curled up under the covers while my little brother played the tender, poignant Prelude from the second Bach cello suite over and over until I fell asleep. I didn’t even hear Mom and Elizabeth come home.



Sunday morning, Mom and Dad were already gone by the time I woke up—Mom had to prepare for parent-teacher conferences, and Dad must’ve gone in early to the bookshop. There was a note on the table with three lines in Mom’s neat handwriting—

C: hope you’re feeling better! please remember to take E to church.

J: don’t forget to practice your Popper.

C: make sure J practices his Popper.

I wasn’t hungry, so I stuck a granola bar in my pocket while Elizabeth got ready for church. Josh was already practicing his scales and arpeggios, so I left a note outside his door that said At church—Mom says to practice Popper—sorry. Thanks for the music last night. Love you.

Elizabeth protested that she knew the way and didn’t need me to walk with her. I sure would’ve liked to stay home—in fact, I didn’t feel like talking to Elizabeth ever again—but I knew how angry Mom would be if she found out that I’d let Elizabeth walk by herself. Not that she cares if her precious ten-year-old son is home alone, because she knows he’ll lock himself up all day with his cello and not come out until someone reminds him it’s time to eat. Little Miss Perfect, though, needs all the protection she can get on these big bad streets.

“Look,” I told Elizabeth, as we left the house, “I think I’ll just wait for you at the Daily Grind today and meet you after Mass. I have tons of lines to memorize.”

“Okay.”

There was silence for a few blocks. Then, “Cadie, what happened last night? Something happened at the dance. Right?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh.”

More silence.

“Is it—was it—did I do something? Or say something?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

I sighed. “Fine. It’s really not a big deal, okay? But my friend Farhan kind of likes you. So do me a favor, and if he asks you out, feel free to say yes. If you want to, I mean. He’s a great guy. I’m sure you’d like him, too.”

Elizabeth stopped walking. “Wait. Your boyfriend Farhan, you mean?”