It Started with Goodbye

by Christina June

  “I’m so sorry, Tilly. I never realized.” She shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal, but I knew it was. “Aren’t you tight with the other bunheads?”

  “No. It’s all competition with them. You rarely get a compliment that’s not backhanded. They’re so wrapped up in themselves that there isn’t time to make friends.”

  “I’ve heard that said about some artists before, actually.” The conversation with the random hot guy the night of Tilly’s showcase fluttered in my mind. That seemed like so very long ago. Tilly’s isolation sounded not too far off from what Belén had dealt with growing up as well. I wondered if she knew about her mom’s experiences.

  “Yes, we’re all messes. You included.” She peeked out from the pillows and grinned at me.

  “You think I’m an artist?” I lowered my eyes and glanced at her from beneath my lashes.

  “Are you kidding?” Her voice rose. “This is amazing. I could never design anything. I’m computer deficient. I’m lucky I can send an email.”

  “You have, in fact, successfully sent at least one email. I can prove that.” Our laughter finally felt easy. The paralyzing tension that had existed between us for years, an invisible barrier of jealousy and assumptions that had pushed us farther and farther away from each other, had finally started to dissipate.

  As if she noticed the calm in the room at the same time I did, Tilly looked at me again and offered another smile. One that looked like the kind Abby wore and the kind I hoped I’d see again from Ashlyn. I smiled back and offered her my hand.

  “Truce?”

  She shook it firmly, and this time I wasn’t caught off guard by her strength. “Truce.”

  “Great. Because I think I’m going to need your help with something.”

  “You helped me.” Tilly smiled. “What can I do?”

  “I need to get out of the house, and I think it will be easier, and more fun, if you come with me. There will be amazing music involved.” Tilly raised an eyebrow. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”

  Dear Tate,

  Please send pictures of you as the hunchback. I’d like that for my new locker, please.

  How’s it going with Tilly? Has she told Belén yet? Have you?

  So my roommate lives in The Plains, and was telling me about this music thing there next weekend. I thought if you could get away, maybe we could meet up there? She’s giving me a ride, and I won’t know anyone else going. No big deal if you can’t. Just thought I’d check.

  I miss you,

  Ash

  The holy grail of best friend valedictions had just landed in my inbox. I wanted to weep with joy, if I did that sort of thing, or jump up and down on my bed with happiness.

  Over the course of my summer of imprisonment, I’d decided something: Ash hadn’t done anything wrong either. Sure, she’d gotten in way too deep with a criminal, but I was willing to forgive her. I believed her when she said she didn’t know Chase was going to steal. I believed she didn’t intend to involve me. Once the emotions had faded and I was left with facts, I realized our long, solid friendship was all the proof I needed. I was sure we both would be able to let it go and move on. But before that part could happen, we’d need to talk. Really talk. The last time we’d spoken in person was in the police car, and two months was a long time to let hurt fester. The talking probably wouldn’t be pretty, but I’d learned a lot about myself this summer. I knew I would be okay, no matter what Ash said back to me.

  I’d already planned to find a way to get to Sol Jam, but now? Of course I would find a way to meet her. I had a lot to tell my best friend.

  I’ll be there.

  I miss you too,

  Tate

  Chapter 15

  When I’d brought up going to Sol Jam to Tilly, she’d been wary.

  “I don’t lie, Tatum. She’ll know.”

  “Oh, please.” Her eyes widened at my brashness. “You’ve been lying to her for months.”

  I told her about working on the article about the Frisson with Abby, and how I wanted to be there for the last hurrah before she put the article together. “I only made it to one band practice and Abby’s been to a lot now. This could be really great for my business too.”

  Tilly, thankfully, understood where I was coming from, though we both agreed that we didn’t want to lie anymore. We spent the next several days trying to think of a way to persuade Belén that the concert was a good idea. I even wrote up a list of reasons she should give her permission: I’d be supporting local artists and therefore bettering our community; I would have a great experience to start off my no-doubt illustrious career with the school paper; Tilly would be there to make sure I followed any and all rules for the outing; etc. When I read the list back to myself, though, I wasn’t convinced my reasons would be good enough, and lost my nerve.

  As it turned out, neither of us needed to have worried. The morning before the concert, Belén pulled out a burgundy marker—her assigned color—and wrote “Belén—work trip” across Friday, Saturday, and Sunday on the family calendar.

  “I have a last-minute conference in Philadelphia this weekend,” she announced, as Tilly and I eyed each other over plates of scrambled eggs. “One of the other partners at the firm is having emergency surgery, so I need to step in and present.”

  “That sounds like a nice change of pace, Mama,” Tilly said brightly.

  Belén poured coffee into a silver travel mug. “It’s more annoying than anything, having to shift gears, but I suppose it will be nice to get out of the office for a little while. Now, while I’m gone, obviously, my mother will be in charge. The rules remain the same.” She turned her gaze to me as if to make a point. “And, because I won’t be able to do it myself, I expect the weekend chores to be completed in my absence.” Who did she want to do them? Me? Tilly? Blanche? All of us? “Tatum, I’ll leave you a list.”

  Just me. I should have figured. Perhaps I could use this to my advantage. “If I get everything done, would you be okay if Tilly and I went out for a little while? We would give Blanche the mileage and take our phones and check in when we’re on our way back.” I pleaded with my eyes and hoped she would reconsider her ban on fun, just for this one night.

  “Please, Mama,” Tilly added. “I think we both deserve a little time off from all our hard work.”

  Belén checked her watch. It was time for her to leave for the office. I knew from years of observing her hurrying out the door that if she waited long enough to think about a valid reason to deny our request, she would get stuck in the Northern Virginia traffic that was almost as oppressive as the heat. She chose the lesser of the two evils. “Fine. But make sure you tell my mother all the important details, and if she has any reservations, she can veto the plan. Understood?”

  “Understood,” I said quickly, so she wouldn’t change her mind.

  “And only if the chores are done,” Belén called over her shoulder. “Have a nice weekend, girls.” Hearing my stepmother wish us goodbye collectively for the second time in recent days was still unnerving. But I could definitely get used to it.

  I saluted the door as it closed behind her. When I heard the dull thud of the garage door closing and the hum of Belén’s car engine fade into the distance, I whooped out loud. Victory!

  “Does that freak you out when she says that?” I asked Tilly. “Calling us ‘girls,’ I mean.”

  Tilly laughed softly. “A little bit. We’ve never really been that. Until now, that is.”

  I whooped again. Two victories.

  I waited until the episode of The Golden Girls Blanche was watching had ended before dumping our plan to go to Sol Jam on her. She listened patiently to my heartfelt plea for her cooperation.

  “Tatum, I’m not sure about this.”

  “Belén actually did give us permission to go out. She just didn’t know what I had in mind.” I listed for Blanche the same reasons we should go that I’d given Tilly. “It’s better this way. Bonus, I’ve now told a trusted adult where I’m
going just in case something should go wrong.”

  She nodded slowly. By the lines in her forehead, I could see how hard it was for her to choose between Belén and me. “I have one condition.”

  “What’s that?” I was ready to agree to anything if she was willing to give us the green light.

  “You talk things out with your father when he gets home next week. Tell him, and Belén, how you’ve been feeling. Show them the work you’ve completed and your plans to do more.”

  I knew she was going to say that. And even I could admit it was a good idea, in theory, but in practice? “I see what you’re trying to do here, and I appreciate the thought, but it might not do any good. I’m pretty sure they’ve already made up their mind about me.”

  Blanche gave me a look that was unmistakably an effort to make me see how stubborn I was being.

  “Fine. I’ll try.”

  “Nothing is immovable, Tatum. Everything is negotiable.”

  I smirked and nodded at the TV. “Did you learn that from The Golden Girls?”

  She smiled back. “It might have been The Facts of Life.”

  The morning of Sol Jam, I got up early to make sure I had all the chores on my list completed in time to get cleaned up before we hit the road.

  The list, written on Belén’s signature stationary, read:

  •Clean all bathrooms

  •Vacuum all carpeted floors

  •Sweep all hardwood floors

  •Dust baseboards, crown moldings, and ceiling fans

  I gulped. This was going to take forever. I opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out the caddy of cleaning supplies. Might as well start with the messiest part first and tackle the bathrooms. As I was pulling on the floppy yellow rubber gloves, Tilly knocked softly on the door frame.

  “Morning.”

  “Good morning,” I said, waving a gloved hand.

  “Look at what I just found slipped under my door.” Tilly held out a folded piece of paper.

  Matilda,

  A little magic for your adventure. Be good to each other.

  All My Love,

  Abuela

  “What does she mean, magic?” I asked.

  Tilly revealed an envelope in the hand she’d kept behind her back. “She left us a gift certificate for pedicures. And the spa happens to be on our way to the concert.”

  I’d never been to a spa before, never had a pedicure, never had my hair done other than the occasional trim. Belén hadn’t been the kind of mother figure who told Tilly and me that we were beautiful inside and out, nor had she filled our heads with dreams of a fairy-tale ending. Now I understood why, but I was grateful for Blanche and her ways of making us feel special on a special night just the same.

  “That was so sweet. She’s the actual best,” I murmured.

  Tilly nodded. “I haven’t spent enough time with her this summer. That definitely needs to change.”

  “Let’s take her out to tea or something before she leaves,” I suggested, pulling the toilet brush from the supply caddy. “Do you think we’ll have enough time to go to the spa after I get all this cleaning done?” I wanted to make good on the deal and do what Belén had asked, but hanging out with Tilly and getting my toenails done sounded awfully tempting.

  Tilly reached down and grabbed the feather duster from the caddy. “We will if I take half. How about you do the bathrooms and the vacuuming, and I’ll take the dusting and the sweeping?”

  “Really?” I felt my mouth pop open in surprise.

  “Really.”

  My heart almost exploded into little pieces all over the tile floor. “Thank you,” I said shyly.

  “You would do the same for me,” she replied, tapping me on the head with the duster. “Let’s get a move on. And make sure it’s spotless.”

  I stuck my tongue out at her. “You are so your mother’s daughter.”

  Tilly just shrugged and did a chassé step out of the bathroom.

  Buoyed by Tilly’s selflessness and the growing anticipation of the event to come—or maybe it was the fumes from the disinfectant—my mood went from a five to a ten as I sprayed the mirror and buffed away the water spots.

  In fact, my summer had gone from a five—okay, a zero—to something a whole lot better over the past few weeks. Sure, I’d racked up a criminal charge, but I’d managed to start my own business, complete a handful of jobs, and earn actual money. Ashlyn and I may have had a small, minuscule, infinitesimal misunderstanding, but it seemed we were on the road to reconciliation, which, if I was really lucky, would begin at Sol Jam. Ash and I hadn’t exchanged any more emails, but I knew she’d make good on her invitation to see each other. The truest part of me needed to believe that, to believe that she was ready to accept that all I wanted to do was protect her.

  Blanche had been a glittering, lovely surprise. I found myself hoping more than once that she’d extend her visit and just stay forever. I may never have a real, maternal relationship with my stepmother, but my stepgrandmother was awesome, and I wasn’t going to take her generosity for granted. She made me want to keep going, keep making good choices, even when the deck was stacked against me. She’d also given me some insight into how Belén ticked, which I was starting to see was worth its weight in gold. I wasn’t sure exactly how I’d use it, but I’d promised Blanche I’d try. And I would.

  “Is there any more dusting spray?” Tilly called from downstairs. I checked the cabinet and found a new can. I wiped the last of the counter clean, picked up the caddy of supplies, and headed downstairs to my next bathroom.

  “Here you go,” I said, handing the can to Tilly, who was surveying the living room.

  “Thanks.”

  I glided a finger across the glass-smooth coffee table. “I think you missed a spot.”

  “Is my mother rubbing off on you?” she asked with a laugh.

  Making jokes with Tilly, hanging out and giggling together, and going on a sort-of road trip—these were the things I’d always dreamed of doing with a sister, but had never imagined the one who lived with me could be a viable option. Tilly was definitely on my list of good things.

  There was still a gaping trench between my father and me—an ocean, in fact—but I’d also promised Blanche that I’d talk with him. He was my dad. He had to love me, no matter what, right? Blanche’s belief in me gave me some hope that my dad would let go of his disappointment and start to see for himself that I had simply gotten stuck in a bad situation, not made a bad choice.

  Taking a short break from my chores, I grabbed my phone to dash off a quick email.

  Hi Dad,

  Just wanted to tell you I’m glad you’re coming home soon. I can’t wait to tell you more about what I’ve been up to all summer. It might be a long conversation—brace yourself. I miss you.

  Love,

  Tatum

  I took a selfie, flashing my dad a smile and pretending to wave at him, attached it to the email, and pressed send. I hoped he would take notice that I wasn’t scowling or smirking.

  Aside from the handful of emails, we hadn’t actually spoken since I’d hung up on him; he’d always managed to call when I was out. My good mood was forcing my guilt over our last conversation to show itself. Maybe this letter—and the ones before, where I had initiated the contact to show him I cared—would soften things a little bit for his homecoming. A girl could hope.

  After I finished the bathrooms and took the vacuum out of the closet, Blanche emerged from the basement.

  “Good morning, ladies,” she called. “Who wants bagels for breakfast? I don’t feel like cooking.”

  “Me,” I called. Tilly cheered from the hall, where she was almost done sweeping.

  “Good choice, girls. I’ll be back shortly.” Blanche took the spare car keys from the spare key drawer and slid her leopard-printed purse over her shoulder. “The house smells nice and clean, Tatum.” She winked and disappeared into the garage.

  I vacuumed as fast as I could, taking care to make the ma
rks in the carpet that Belén left after she was done. The more evidence, the better. Afterward, I sliced open a cinnamon crunch bagel, courtesy of Blanche, smeared it with cream cheese, and took my breakfast up to my room so I could shower and pick out the perfect show-time outfit.

  When I came back into my room post-shower, smelling much sweeter and wrapped in a towel, I found the prettiest sundress ever on my bed, and a note lying on top. It was the same paper Tilly’s note had been written on.

  All my bunco winnings were burning a hole in my pocket. I thought Cinderella could use a new gown for the ball.

  All my love,

  Blanche

  I held it to my body and looked in the mirror. The blue-and-white seersucker halter dress had a swingy A-line skirt and pockets, falling just to the tops of my knees. My arms and shoulders were glowing bronze from the hours spent outside and, just like Hunter, my biceps were more defined than they’d ever been in my life. My hair now fell well past my shoulders, highlighted naturally, also thanks to the blazing sun. As I stepped into the dress, I looked down and saw a new pair of silver sandals, more delicate than my old ones, sitting at the foot of my bed. I slipped my feet into them, ran some gloss over my lips, and grabbed my purse.

  Blanche was waiting for me at the kitchen table.

  “You look lovely, Tatum.”

  I smiled at my new sandals. “Thank you, Blanche. This was so generous. You are so generous.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “It was everything.” I bent and kissed her cheek.

  She blushed and smiled. “I hope you have the time of your life, my dear.”

  Tilly descended the stairs, and we went over the itinerary with Blanche once again. I even double-checked the mileage on the car and wrote it down for her, though she insisted it wasn’t necessary. I insisted it was.

  “Please be home by midnight, girls. My only request.”

  “We will,” I promised.

  Blanche hugged us both and shooed us out the door and on our way to pampering, camaraderie, and a little musical bliss.