16. Chapter 16
Chapter 16
“T hey’re animals, straight up savage beasts,” Jules murmured to Winnie, watching in horror as about twenty high school kids descend upon the meal Jules brought to the school for their big night.
“At least they are using forks this time,” Winnie responded, turning her back to the outrageous scene. Jules didn’t want to know what that was in reference to, but she was glad they were enjoying the lasagna and bread she’d made.
“Thanks for bringing dinner. For some of them, it’s the only home-cooked meal they’ve had all week.”
To Jules’ surprise, Winnie had been exceedingly calm since she’d arrived about an hour ago. Our Town was premiering tonight for one show only. The cast had turned things around since their first dress rehearsal. Winnie looked relaxed. She even seemed to enjoy the crazed energy buzzing through everyone backstage.
“I’m so proud of you, Win.” Jules put her arm around Winnie’s shoulders as they walked back to the dressing rooms.
“Don’t jinx it! We still have to get through the show,” she joked, but there was no hint of truth to it. Winnie was excited, and it was rubbing off on Jules, too. Jules had never been a big theater fan, but she couldn’t wait to watch the kids do their thing, especially after all the hard work they’d put into it.
They poked their heads into the dressing room, making sure things were in place and people were getting ready, but a mini drama of its own was unfolding near the mirrored makeup stations. Several high school girls crowded around another who sobbed into her hands.
Winnie looked at Jules with wide eyes and a contrite smile before whispering, “Her boyfriend was caught with a cheerleader after the junior varsity game last night. I better go try to calm her down.”
“Good luck,” Jules said as she headed out of the dark hallway towards the classroom where the students were still eating.
On her way, she almost collided with Emily, startling them both. Jules was glad to see a familiar face, although she had been half looking for Miles. Where was he? Jules understood he needed space, but they couldn’t avoid each other forever. A dull ache constricted in her chest hard to ignore.
“Ahh, you’re here. Good,” Emily said. “How’s Winnie? Has she leveled out yet?”
“She seems to be just fine now, excited. Was she still anxious earlier?”
“A bit, but we received good news from the doctor earlier today, so I think that might have eased some of it,” Emily shared, causing Jules to break into a big smile.
“I’m so happy to hear that, Emily. I know you two are going to be the best parents." It was true, Jules knew their baby would be so loved and cared for.
“And you’ll be the best aunt ever,” Emily added, filling Jules with an emotion she’d never experienced before. Warmth spread through her as she imagined herself holding their tiny sleeping baby swaddled in a blanket. She felt such an intense love for this child already; how could she go back to D.C. and miss everything? Winnie was the closest thing she had to a sister, so the thought alone was like another nail in the coffin of her writing dream.
After a few minutes, the lights flickered, signaling that it was time for the audience to take their seats; the show was about to begin. Jules had lost Emily in the shuffle to get to the theater, so she made her way down the center aisle alone to find a seat in the middle among the students and parents.
A few rows in front of her to the right, she spotted the back of a familiar head of wavy brown hair. It was Miles. Her heart skipped a beat at the recognition, but it quickly slowed when she noticed a woman sitting next to him. Jules didn’t recognize her. The woman looked young, but not young enough to be a student.
Her auburn hair skimmed Miles’ shoulder in a familiar way as they continued their animated conversation, punctuated with laughter and hand gestures. She couldn’t make out any facial features with the angle and lighting, but it looked like they were enjoying each other’s company.
Maybe she was a colleague? Another teacher? It doesn’t matter , she told herself. Miles was an adult; surely, he had other female friends and acquaintances. But Jules couldn’t stop wondering if the woman was his date. Her heart sank at the thought, and she stood up to move seats. Unfortunately, just then, the lights dimmed, and the curtains rose on stage. She sat back down. It would be a long show.
At intermission, Jules hurried out one of the back doors, eager not to run into Miles and his…friend. Luckily, she found another seat far away from the couple for the latter half of the show.
On stage, the students were giving it their all. The set props also looked like they’d undergone a facelift since she’d last seen it, making the production seem more professional.
The entire audience sat raptured until the last scene. After the curtain rose, the cast received a standing ovation and Winnie beamed on stage alongside them, bowing. All her work had paid off. Jules couldn’t wait until tomorrow when they could celebrate together in Chicago.
As the audience made their way out of the theater and into the lobby where the cast members waited for their families, Jules looked around for Winnie and Emily. After an initial scan, she caught sight of them on a set of stairs holding court for a group of parents and students who shared their congratulations.
Her friends looked right at home, glowing with pride and love for each other. Jules watched as Emily wrapped her arm around Winnie’s waist, who placed a hand on Emily’s belly. Their eyes said it all: they were in love and building a life together.
While she continued to admire them and the community of support that had turned out, underneath a seed of guilt began to take root, threatening to suck the life out of the joy she felt in that moment. Jules could feel the darkness and jealousy creeping into her conscious thought: Would she ever find a relationship like this? Did she deserve someone who loved her the way Emily loved Winnie? Why did she continue to sabotage herself every chance she got?
For just a moment, Jules let herself indulge before snapping out of it. This wasn’t her night, it was Winnie’s. And goddammit, she wasn’t going to make this about herself.
Jules lifted her hand to give them a quick wave before turning around to head towards the door. It’d take forever to make her way up there through the crowd, plus she’d see Winnie tomorrow.
Turning to leave and throwing her jacket over her shoulders, her gaze caught on Miles pushing open the side door for the woman from earlier. For just a second, their eyes met, and Jules stood frozen to the floor, heart beating so loud she could feel it in her face. She held her breath, hoping he’d stop and come back to talk to her. Instead, he gave a barely perceptible nod and disappeared into the blackness of the night.
***
Winnie showed up almost twenty minutes late the next morning, but Jules couldn’t be mad as her cute red VW Beetle crawled up the drive. She wondered if that was the real reason Winnie bought it, to ease the frustrations she caused by her terminal lateness. Either way, Jules couldn’t contain her excitement to spend all day with Winnie in the city. It had been years since they’d last gone on an adventure together.
Cruising through town with the top down, they soaked up all the sun they could before fall set in. Although the city was just a quick forty-five-minute drive from Riverbend, it seemed a world away from the sleepy farm town. As they drove, the cornfields faded into the rearview mirror, giving way to crowded neighborhoods of townhouses lined with billboards for casinos and local radio stations.
First, they headed to Millennium Park to recreate a silly picture they had taken back in middle school with the park’s famous “bean” sculpture. In it, Winnie crouched on all fours while Jules kneeled on her back, kissing the underside of the bean. They both still had a copy.
Now, however, it would be a test of their agility to recreate it, which they did before falling over in a heap of laughter. They didn’t stay long, deciding to ditch the crowds of tourists and make their way to Wicker Park, where they’d spend the afternoon before dinner and the comedy show.
As they walked around the hip neighborhood, the sun reflected off the sidewalks and glass shop windows, casting the day in a bright glow that matched their moods.
Along the streets were dozens of independent shops that accompanied a few large brand names like Levi’s and Urban Outfitters. Jules had never been a huge fan of shopping, but she had a soft spot for consignment and second-hand shops, which were aplenty here. They ducked in and out of various shops and art galleries throughout the neighborhood, enjoying the ease of being together. She had to remind herself to not go overboard on account of her current unemployment.
As the afternoon wore on, they split up when Winnie got lost in the massive Levi’s store while Jules wandered down a quiet brick-laid backstreet. She was just getting ready to head back to the main road when she saw a weathered sign that read, “Spine she wanted to read them all, but she had to be reasonable. She could only buy what she could carry, after all. These books were crafted out of passion and expertise, and Jules could feel the knowledge pulsing through the pages, alive and breathing in its own way.
After a while, she stumbled on a section of books about Italian food in Chicago throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. One book was printed in all black and white and featured restaurants from the early to mid-nineteen-hundreds, complete with well-known recipes from each. Although it didn’t mention her great-grandfather’s restaurant, she knew Grandma Rosa would love it. She threw it on top of the pile that she’d designated as her “take-home” stack.
Deciding that was enough, she made her way to the register when the door jingled again and Winnie stepped through with a large shopping bag looped over her arm.
“Oh my, look at this place,” she said, taking in the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
“Isn’t it amazing? A bookstore just for cookbooks!” Jules almost squealed. The lady behind the counter smiled and said they got that reaction a lot.
Winnie grabbed a cookbook by Ina Garten and flipped through it, shuffling up to Jules to show her. Pointing at one page with a recipe for homemade pizza dough, Winnie said, “You know you could do this.”
“Do what? Make pizza?” Jules asked, not paying attention. Of course she could make pizza.
“No, silly." Winnie slapped her shoulder. “You could write one of these.”
Jules’, now alert to what Winnie was saying, blew out a quick, “Me? No way! I don’t know the first thing about writing cookbooks.” Waiving Winnie off, Jules turned back to the lady waiting for her payment.
“No, Jules, I’m serious. You could really do this. You know how to write, you’re an outstanding cook and you have your grandma to help you. I think you should consider it. Why not?”
“You’re crazy,” said Jules, although the thought seemed to already be worming its way into her brain. Maybe…she did have all those recipes just sitting at home.
All throughout dinner and then the show, Jules kept coming back to the conversation. She didn’t know the first thing about writing a book, let alone a cookbook, but she could feel its allure. It would be the perfect marriage of creativity and skill. She loved to cook, and she was a decent writer, but how would she go about it? How did you even get a book deal these days; wasn’t it hard? The questions kept bubbling up in her head as she laughed along to the improv actors on stage. Although the show was hilarious, her mind was elsewhere.
“That was a fun show. I think my abs are going to be sore tomorrow. I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard,” Winnie said as they navigated their way back to the car. Jules agreed. Even though she’d only paid half attention, it was worth the drive.
“Thanks for coming today. I miss having adventures with you."
“I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, Jules. You know that,” Winnie said, as they climbed into the clown-sized car. “Plus, I’m a sucker for dinner and show.”
“Oh, don't I know it."
Making their way out of the dark city streets and back onto the highway, Jules asked Winnie what she thought she should do about Miles after recounting the last two conversations they’d had since she returned from D.C.
“Well, I can tell you’ve been thinking about him. You’ve avoided saying his name all day,” she said with a heavy dose of side eye. “But I think you’re asking the wrong question. You need to ask yourself what you really want, not what you think you should do because it’s the sensible thing.”
“What do you mean?” Jules tried to keep her tone light. She knew her best friend wasn’t trying to hurt her feelings, but the comment felt like an accusation.
“You know what I mean. Jules, you’ve always been a hyper independent person, it’s one of the many things I love about you. But you also use it as a shield. Ever since you and Miles broke up years ago, you’ve been afraid to let anyone else in. So instead, you’ve thrown yourself into being successful, building your career, and checking all the other boxes you can on your own.”
Winnie took Jules’ hand across the center console. “But you’re not alone and you don’t have to go through life alone. Now, don’t get me wrong, I was never a huge fan of Luke. But you have to be honest, you had one foot out the door your entire relationship.”
A lump formed in Jules’ throat. She was quiet for a long minute before giving a silent nod. Winnie was right.
“If you’re asking me, I think you already know in your heart what you want to do. You’re just too afraid to admit it because then you’ll have to give up a little control. You’ll have to depend on others, and your future won’t be certain.”
“You mean I should write a cookbook?” Jules joked, attempting to divert the conversation.
“No. I mean, sure. If that’s what you want. But what I’m talking about is letting go of your old life and embracing something new. Whatever you decide to do, whether it’s going back to D.C. or staying in Riverbend, I think you deserve to find out what makes you happy and then do that. Because I know it’s not writing for power-hungry white men who can’t keep it in their pants,” she said, cracking a smile.
Jules had to concede she had a point. It’s possible that while she’d been trying to prove she could make it on her own, she inadvertently closed herself off to other possibilities, other versions of her life that would be just as fulfilling, if not more. But could she learn to trust more than just herself? History had taught her otherwise.
On one hand, Jules had learned the importance of self-reliance a young age, with her flighty mother and absent father to thank for that. But on the other hand, she’d been raised by one of the most fierce and loyal women she knew. It was because of Rosa and Grandpa Lou Jules even had the opportunity to dream of a better life. They’d sacrificed for her. Given so much of themselves to ensure she had a bright future. Jules always thought she owed it to them to do the expected thing: go to college, graduate, and get a safe, steady job. To dream even bigger was to risk it all.
But now, her thoughts slid into place. Maybe, just maybe, she owed it to her grandparents to do the risky thing. What if she’d been wrong this entire time? Didn’t Grandma Rosa have her own dreams of owning a restaurant and being a chef when she was a young woman? She, too, likely thought that the reasons for not pursuing her dreams were valid. What if the best way to honor all her grandparents’ work was to take a chance on herself?
The thoughts were too big for her tired brain to make sense of this late at night, so she resigned to deal with them tomorrow when she was functioning at full capacity again.
Tucked in her twin-sized bed, Jules read a text from Emily thanking her for taking Winnie out for the day. She said they’d both needed it. What Emily didn’t realize was that Jules needed it just as much.
Surprisingly, Jules slept through the night and woke up with the sunrise, feeling refreshed and clear headed for the first time in days. Big decisions still loomed in the distance, but this morning they seemed less scary and more manageable.
Deciding to capitalize on her early start, Jules lugged a heavy bin of dirty clothes she’d been neglecting to wash to the basement washer and dryer. Doing laundry was the worst sort of chore in Jules’ book. If she could never do another load again in her entire life, she’d die happy, but, alas, she was running out of clean clothes to wear.
She hadn't been down to the basement much since she’d been back, and it looked like her grandma didn't made it down too often, either.
The couch that had been there for decades still had a Christmas throw blanket hanging off one arm and the big box TV sitting on a rickety old stand had a thick layer of dust coating the top.
In high school, Jules would spend hours down here lying on the couch and watching reruns of Law & Order or talking on the house phone with Miles. To the left of the tidy living area was a large wooden door that was closed, concealing her grandpa’s woodshop he used to spend hours in. She doubted anyone had been in there in the past two years.
Pushing the heavy door open, a cloud of dust filled her nostrils before she could reach in and flick the light switch on the wall. It still smelled the same: a mixture of earthy pine and sawdust that littered the floor. When she was around five or six, her grandfather took her down here for the first time and showed her the large tools he used. He explained how he used his table and jigsaw, showed her the dozens of chisels that hung on the wall over a large working desk and his old planer machine. He told her about how dangerous they could be but also showed her how they could help him turn a piece of wood into something special. Throughout the years, he often convinced her to help him work on whatever project he had going at the time. Between cooking with grandma Rosa and crafting something out of nothing with her grandpa Lou, Jules’ love for creativity bore its way into her soul.
Jules looked around the cavernous room. Illuminated only by a single hanging light bulb and a tiny window, the morning rays caught on the dust specks floating in the air. Her eyes caught on the bottom stair of the concrete staircase that led to the outside of the house. An abandoned piece of wood was propped the corner. Jules picked it up, dusting it to reveal an engraving of loopy script in the corner. “For Rosa, my love,” it read. It was one of Grandpa Lou’s cutting boards. He loved to make them to give away as gifts, polishing the boards until they almost shone. This one looked dull, though, as if he hadn’t finished it.
Jules knew just what to do. After finding some sandpaper and wax sealant, she polished the board, revealing the herringbone design he’d used in constructing it. It was a beautiful cutting board, fit for display in her grandma’s kitchen.
Jules rushed upstairs to grab the book she bought as a gift last night and wrapped them both in silvery wrapping paper she found in the hallway closet. She hadn’t planned to make such a fuss about the book, but now it seemed appropriate. Along with the wrapped gifts, Jules tucked a card under the ribbon she used to tie them together. The handwritten note simply thanked her grandma for being more than just a grandparent. She was her best friend, mentor, and mother all in one. The urge to ensure her grandma knew that felt urgent, like she couldn’t wait another day. Jules didn’t get the chance to thank her grandfather, and she would not make that mistake again.
Energy coursed through her veins as she sat back on the floor of her bedroom, admiring the gift set in front of her. She’d give it to her tonight after cooking a special meal for the two of them.
Jules got dressed and made her way back down to the kitchen. It was still early but she could hear Rosa stir upstairs. A low fog stretched across the front lawn as she looked out the window with a cup of tea warming her hands. She didn’t need caffeine, feeling as awake as if she’d already had two shots of espresso. Grandma Rosa startled her as she came into the kitchen. “Are you going to answer that?”
Confused, Jules looked back with an eyebrow raised in question.
“Your phone is ringing,” her grandma said, pointing to the table.