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I wait until they’re long gone before I go to the backyard with my guitar. I’ve been working out the new song in my head for the past two weeks and I think I might have it.
I try two variations and they’re okay, but they’re not quite right. Eventually, I give up and just play “Homecoming” again. It sounds, on the surface, like it’s about a school dance gone wrong, but really it’s about walking into your home and knowing you’re no safer there than you are anywhere else. I wrote it about my mom’s house, but I sometimes wonder if applies here too. Nearly two years into this arrangement, I still feel like I’m walking on eggshells, like I’m one mistake away from being out in the cold.
The last notes float away, and I’m about to start something else when I hear movement near the back door and freeze.
“That’s good.” Luke steps into the light, staring like he’s seeing me for the first time. “That was really fucking good.”
My heart rate spikes, anxiety pinging in my chest. “Why are you home?”
“Why are you lying to Danny about schoolwork?” His voice is soft enough to take the edge from his words. “You shouldn’t have to hide this. You should perform.”
“I sing at church.” There’s a hint of resignation in my voice. As if I’m still trying to convince myself it’s enough.
His cheek sucks in as his jaw shifts. I picture tracing the hollow with my index finger. “No, I mean alone, on stage somewhere, and not just so the pastor can have everyone pat him on the back. I’ve never heard that song before. Who’s it by?”
“I…uh, it’s mine,” I say, looking away. “I wrote it.”
When I dare to glance up at him, his mouth is open. “Bullshit.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” I snap.
His eyes lock with mine. “Are you claiming you aren’t one?”
I say nothing. I lied about what I was doing tonight. I lie about being happy with the situation I’m in, and I’ve lied about way more than that. Whatever he doesn’t know about me yet, whatever he suspects…it’s probably right.
“That song is good,” he says, reaching for the door. “But it’s a little fucked up that you lied just to get a chance to play it. Don’t you ever get tired of being treated like an indentured servant?”
I stiffen. “I’m not. Being part of the family means pitching in.”
His eyes are flat. “Oh, yeah? How many times has Danny been asked to unload the dryer or help with dinner?”
I rise. “What exactly is your problem?”
He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes nearly black in the dim light. “You aren’t cut out for this, Juliet.”
I swallow hard and march toward the door. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He steps backward to let me pass. “I think you do. And the longer this goes on, the more you’re going to fuck him up when he loses you.”
I round on him as my jaw drops. “He’s never going to lose me.”
His eyes fall, for a moment, to my mouth. “He’s already lost you, believe me.”
I stumble away. It’s a ridiculous thing to say. And yet…there’s some tiny voice in the back of my head wondering if he’s right. Maybe I’m fake, maybe I’m here for the wrong reasons. Maybe I’m not pulling myself up to Danny’s level, but instead dragging him down to mine.
Maybe this isn’t something I can stick with for the long haul.
7
NOW
“I had the worst dream,” I tell Luke.
He rolls toward me in the early morning light, smiling and sleepy, running a hand over the jaw he should’ve shaved yesterday. “Let’s hear it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to recall the details. My bad dreams never seem as terrifying in the light of day. “It was this whole thing,” I tell him. “I don’t even remember. I never left Rhodes, and I was going to marry Danny. It was like everything that could go wrong did go wrong.”
Luke runs a hand over my head. “I’ve gotta tell you, I don’t love waking up to discover you were dreaming about an ex.”
