It Started with Goodbye

by Christina June

  Hi Tate,

  So, I just left you an hour ago, and I’m writing this from the car on the drive home.

  My heart started thumping.

  I had the best time and couldn’t wait to tell you. I hope that isn’t creepy of me. I promise I’m not a stalker. Just ignore the devilishly handsome guy lurking outside your window.

  I giggled. The last thing I would do if he was outside was ignore him.

  In all seriousness, I couldn’t have asked for a better night. When can we do it again?

  Yours in music and

  marshmallows,

  Seamus

  I let out a loud yelp and slapped my hands over my mouth. It was the best valediction yet.

  P.S.—A friend just sent me this video and some photos from tonight. Take a look. Something to use for the site?

  I wrote him back right away.

  Immediately, if not sooner. Please.

  I opened the attachments and found several gorgeous shots of Seamus, seated with his cello between his legs, playing my song. The simultaneous pain and joy written on his face in the picture hit me just as hard as it had in person, and I found myself compelled to listen to him playing “Chaconne” on repeat. No longer something to make me cry; the grin never left my face until I fell asleep.

  The next morning, I gleefully filled Blanche in on the highlights of the evening, Tilly at my side.

  “I don’t know how to repay you. Honestly.” I hugged her just as tightly as I had hugged Ashlyn the night before.

  “The smile on your face is enough thanks, Tatum. And you had a good time?” Blanche shifted her gazed between Tilly and me.

  “We had an amazing time, Abuela. The music was beautiful. The company was good.” Tilly’s brown eyes sparkled mischievously. “I think Tatum especially liked the view of the piano and cello.”

  I dropped my jaw, and she laughed. I smacked her playfully in the arm. “I don’t remember you complaining about the view of the drum kit.”

  Tilly gave me a tight-lipped, secretive smile.

  Blanche shook her head, amused. “I’m glad it was worth it, Tatum. You deserved it. You too, Matilda. It’s nice to see you girls happy. I think the night off was just what you both needed.”

  I hugged her again. “Can you please stay forever?”

  She laughed, a silvery tinkle. “I don’t know if my daughter would agree to that. But, I think I could manage more frequent visits.”

  “Yes please.”

  “And now that I’ve upheld my end of the bargain, you must complete yours.”

  I held my breath. My dad would be home soon, and there was no way of getting out of facing my fears. “I know. Think some positive thoughts for me?”

  She patted my head. “You’ll be fine.”

  Tilly cleared her throat. “Don’t forget, you’re not the only one who has things to share, Tatum.”

  I looked over, and our eyes locked. I was glad to not have to jump into the deep end of the pool alone.

  Two days later, and my dad’s plane was scheduled to touch down in the late afternoon. I hadn’t slept much the night before, planning out all the things I wanted to say and reviewing them over and over in my head. I hoped I had the courage to calmly and rationally explain how I’d felt when he’d left, and how I was happy with who I was and the decisions I’d made. I wanted to tell him I was proud of how I’d handled the Ashlyn/Chase situation, even if he wasn’t, and I was also proud of how I’d changed this summer. I wanted to tick off the items on my list of things I’d come to appreciate, most importantly about our family, over the last few months. I hoped that my effort to be less of a pain to Belén would be a point in my favor. And I definitely needed to apologize for worrying him, for being rude, and for not staying in contact better while he was gone. When we loaded up the car and drove to Dulles Airport, my entire body was buzzing with anxiety, and it was all I could do not to throw up.

  As we parked and got out of the car, I lagged back, waiting for Tilly and Blanche to start walking while Belén fussed with her purse. I told myself that this was my last chance to make things right, or as close to right as they were going to get, before my dad was home. When she finally locked the car, I grabbed her elbow in a move that was either smart or laughable.

  “Belén?”

  She eyed me with surprise. I couldn’t remember the last time we touched. “Yes, Tatum?”

  I gulped and tried to summon every ounce of bravery and humility I had in me. “I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for being difficult, um, recently. Actually, always. I know you’ve just been looking out for me, and I wasn’t very nice about it.” As I trailed off, her face became unreadable. I held my breath and waited. No matter what she said back to me, even if she ignored my words and walked past me into the terminal, I’d said my piece. The ball was back in her court.

  Belén stared at me and stood so still, the only motion was her lungs expanding. And then finally, “Thank you, Tatum. I appreciate you saying that.”

  Her tone was cool, making my heart fall to the ground. However, just as I’d noticed when she chastised me for sneaking out to band practice, something else lingered underneath Belén’s polite words. I didn’t expect her to apologize and offer me a warm, motherly hug, but I sensed there was more she wouldn’t—or maybe couldn’t—say.

  “Sure,” I mumbled.

  Just as I turned to go, Belén reached for my hand, squeezed lightly, then let go and walked confidently toward the airport entrance. My heart bounced back up, and I smiled to myself as I followed.

  We resumed a slightly more-comfortable-than-usual silence as we hurried to catch up with Blanche and Tilly, who were studying the arrivals board inside.

  To my shock, Belén initiated small talk. “I put a lasagna in the oven for dinner before we left. Do you think your father will be happy with that as his first meal back at home?”

  She wanted my opinion? I looked around me to see if pigs with wings were circling my head. Confirming they were not, I said, “Yes, it sounds perfect.”

  “Good,” Belén replied. And with that, we rejoined the rest of our family.

  When my dad finally pushed through the double doors from immigration, my knees buckled, and I had to grip the metal railing separating family members from arriving passengers to keep from falling down. Blanche, with her never-failing intuition, placed a hand on the small of my back and steadied me. Dad looked just the same, tall and dependable, the man who worked to better the lives of people all around the world. I hoped he’d be able to extend that mission to me.

  When he rounded the barrier, Dad wrapped me in his arms, crushing me to his chest. I couldn’t breathe, he was holding me so tight, but I didn’t care. It seemed like a good sign.

  “Tatum, honey, I owe you an apology.” I thought I’d misheard him because my ears were mashed against his shirt. He was basically ignoring everyone else and apologizing? “Ashlyn called me yesterday. Said she absolutely had to explain everything before I came home.”

  Oh. She had? Mr. Zanotti probably wouldn’t be happy to see a cell phone bill with a call to Africa on it. I mentally high-fived Ash for taking the risk for me.

  I pulled away and looked into his eyes, the same warm brown as mine. “What did she say?” My voice trembled. It must have been pretty enlightening. And convincing.

  He pulled me in again and kissed the top of my head, like he had when I was little. I closed my eyes and breathed in his dad-scent: laundry detergent and the peppermint gum he always chewed on planes. “Nothing I didn’t already know. This trip gave me a lot of time to think about you, Tatum, and what happened, and I found a lot of clarity about the whole situation. I even had a planned speech for today, ready to go, and then Ashlyn called and it just cemented what I needed to say to you. She told me the truth. She told me how you were the best friend she’d ever had and were always taking care of her, even when she made questionable decisions. Which you’d already told me, and I was too stubborn to give enough weight to a
t the time.”

  I couldn’t believe this was happening. These were the words I had wished for all summer.

  My dad pulled away and looked into my teary face, then pressed me to him once more, murmuring into the top of my head. “I’m sorry, Tatum. I should have fought harder for you. I should have trusted that I raised you to do the right thing and trusted that you did it. That you still do it.” I exhaled into the fabric of his shirt. “Can you forgive your dad?”

  I nodded into his chest, my hair going all astray from the friction. Tears pricked my eyes. I knew he and I had a lot more we needed to talk about, but in that moment, those words were the only thing I wanted.

  We disconnected and smiled at each other. Only then did my dad notice the rest of our family, standing around expectantly. He kissed Belén chastely and hugged Tilly and Blanche.

  As we headed toward baggage claim, my dad took my hand and linked it in the crook of his elbow, something he hadn’t done in probably a decade. “So what’s this I hear about you designing websites?”

  I choked out a laugh. “I’ll tell you all about it at dinner.” And I knew I would. That, and a lot more.

  While Tilly and I set the table, we whispered the game plan to each other. I knew it was now or never when it came to confessing the truth. The whole truth about the entire summer. If I was really going to start over with my dad and Belén, I had to stick to my promise to Blanche. Though the idea of coming clean and putting myself in my parents’ shoes took all the air out of my lungs when Blanche and I first discussed it, the small steps forward I’d made since then lessened my fear.

  “Do you want to go first?” I asked Tilly as she folded the cloth napkins into triangles. “You have less to say.”

  “Do you want me to go first? What will be less scary for you?”

  I could have wept at how normal this felt. My stepsister, no longer cased in ice as I had imagined for years, was putting my needs over her own. I passed her a handful of forks and reached for the water glasses. Would it be better to go first and get it over with? “You know, no. I’ll go first. Rip off the Band-Aid.” I chuckled to myself as I set a glass at my dad’s place. “Maybe you piping up after me will soften the blow.”

  Once the five of us were sitting around the table, a steaming square of carbtastic, cheesy deliciousness on the plates before us, I cleared my throat. Four sets of eyes swung toward me as if I’d beat on a glass with a knife at a wedding. Too bad Seamus wasn’t here for me to kiss; that would’ve been much nicer.

  “So, now that Dad’s home, I want to talk about this summer. And my, um, arrest.” That word, even after I’d come to terms with my innocence, felt stale and wrong in my mouth. Moving right along. I focused on my father, who was seated at the head of the table, and wished for courage to make it through.

  “Dad, I need to thank you for what you said at the airport. You knowing that I was just trying to protect my friend is everything. Everything.” He nodded, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “And I also need to tell you that I get it. I get why you were mad. Why you thought I put myself at risk. Why I should have asked for your help. I didn’t take the potential consequences from being around someone like Chase seriously, until they weren’t potential anymore. That’s my fault, and I’m sorry.”

  I held my breath.

  “I forgive you, Tatum,” my dad said, without even a nanosecond’s hesitation.

  I let out my breath, probably too loudly, and Blanche winked at me. My eyes shifted to the other end of the table, where Belén sat. “And I’m sorry for worrying you too, Belén. I won’t do it again.”

  I thought I detected her lower lip quiver, but I wasn’t certain. She blinked and said, “I forgive you as well, Tatum.”

  Blanche’s foot nudged mine under the table, probably to point out how she’d been right and I hadn’t had any reason to be nervous. I nudged her back and inhaled. I hadn’t gotten through the worst part yet.

  “I’m glad. That means a lot to me.” I met Belén’s eyes, focused right on me, and then went back to looking at my lasagna. “Because I have more I need to say. Um, confess actually, Belén.”

  I couldn’t look at her as I recounted the bulleted point list in my head of the times I’d snuck out, including tricking Belén into giving me permission to go to Sol Jam with Tilly. I spilled about my graphic design work, about pet sitting, about writing the article with Abby, and about my plans for the money I had earned. I even threw in a bit about applying to college. I made sure that she understood I was motivated not only by my need for fun, but also my desire to be more involved at school and with my future.

  “I know those things don’t make up for the fact that I deceived you, but I thought they were important to mention. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  Belén was quiet throughout my speech, and remained silent for a good five minutes once I’d finished. I was starting to get worried that I’d caused her to have a coronary, so I finally looked up, and discovered she was watching me. My knees quaked in my seat, bracing for a verbal blow, but it never came.

  “Tatum, did you feel you needed to lie to me because you didn’t think I would approve?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “I see.” Her lip was definitely trembling. “I’m sorry if that was the impression I gave you. My intention has always been, from the day your father and I got married, to protect you.”

  “I know—”

  Belén put a hand up to stop me. “I am aware you think my ideas are harsh.”

  I would have used a different word than harsh, but I felt grateful she recognized this about herself.

  “And if you felt I was being unfair to you, I hope you can understand that I acted in the way that I felt was right. I thought you needed boundaries.” Blanche’s commentary about parents disagreeing sometimes about what “right” is echoed in my ears.

  “I know,” I said. “I didn’t know it until recently, but I do now. That’s why I wanted to say all of this. Needed to say it, really.”

  Whatever Belén, or my dad, or Tilly, or even Blanche said after this, I felt good that I had gotten it out. Emptied my closet of all the skeletons I had collected over the last two-and-a-half months. I would probably sleep better than I had all summer.

  Belén’s face had grown pale and blotchy. Her lips were now pursed into a barely there line, clamped so tight it looked painful. Was she having trouble talking? I grew increasingly uncomfortable for her; it got to the point where I was compelled to speak. Help her out, maybe.

  “So, I guess, whatever punishment you think is appropriate, I will take, and I won’t complain. I promise.” I just wanted my dad and Belén to trust me again.

  “That’s very mature of you, sweetheart,” my dad said quietly. He and Belén exchanged a lengthy conversation with their eyes the way only married couples can, and then he nodded at her.

  “So, what will it be? Scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush? Rinsing my mouth out with soap?” I couldn’t think of much else my stepmother hadn’t tried. She’d have to find a new parenting blog to follow, one with more creative consequences.

  Belén’s face went from white to bright red, but she sat up straight, a commanding presence even when flustered. “I think you and I are even, Tatum.”

  My jaw dropped. “Really?”

  “Really.” The smallest trace of a smile graced her lips. “Though I can’t say I’m pleased to hear about your duplicitous actions while your father was away, it would be a mistake if I didn’t recognize my hand in them.”

  Again, really? I looked at my dad to confirm I’d heard her right, and caught him trying to cover up a smile. Well, then.

  “Thank you,” I said, stunned. Blanche nudged me harder under the table, as if to tell me she knew this would happen all along.

  “You’re welcome. I think this is a good opportunity to start fresh, don’t you?” Belén eyed me.

  “Yes. Yes,” I repeated. I had no idea what a fresh start with my stepmother mig
ht look like, but I was willing to take the risk if she was.

  Before we could break out the hot cocoa and sing kumbaya, my dad suggested we eat the delicious-looking lasagna before it turned ice cold. Everyone laughed then and dug in. Maybe it was the food and maybe it was what had come before it, but nothing I’d eaten in a long, long time had been so satisfying.

  Tilly chose to drop her own bomb while we were eating the cannoli Blanche had picked up at a nearby bakery, recommended by her new bunco besties. Belén took the news about Tilly changing her dance focus surprisingly well. And by well, I mean she didn’t throw anything or curse.

  “I want to see this online portfolio Tatum has made for you, Matilda,” Belén demanded. There was something comforting in her reliable response, despite me being nervous about what her reaction might be. Not only for Tilly, but for myself. Belén hadn’t seen any of my art in years.

  All five of us clicked through the site, then watched the contemporary dance video I’d posted. When it ended, Tilly and I, seated side by side at the dining room table with our parents, waited for the verdict.

  “Well, I think the site is beautiful, Tatum. Very professional. I believe that new tablet will be a wise investment.” My dad was not a naive man. He knew better than to comment on Tilly’s dancing.

  I beamed. The money I’d earned over the course of the summer was almost double what I needed to pay the commonwealth attorney, so I’d be picking up my gorgeous new device very soon.

  “Tatum was amazing,” Tilly offered. “I think TLC is going to be a huge success.”

  I beamed at her. “It’s easy when you have good material to work with.” Tilly beamed back.

  Blanche was braver than my dad. “I agree. I should hire you to do something for me, Tatum. And I actually prefer this contemporary to your ballet, Matilda. So expressive. We could use more of that in our lives, I think.”

  No one spoke for the longest time; the only sound in the room was Belén inhaling and exhaling loudly and deliberately, tapping one red nail on the table. Some things never changed.