Cherry
Alaska, 2024
“So wait.”
stared at her aunt, blinking.
“Hold up.
Russell D’Angelo was sleeping with both of you?”
“Not at the same time.
He slept with your mother first. Then me.”
Cassie was standing in the corner of the single room that comprised the kitchen.
Wesley was curled up on his dog bed in the corner.
was sitting at Cassie’s table, on her single folding chair, still bundled in her inadequate winter coat.
Her bleached hair stood in a spiky halo around her head.
“And my mom walked in on you with him, and that was the night he died?”
Another nod.
Cassie cleared her throat, and asked, “Does your mother talk about it at all?”
snorted.
“I only found out my mother had been in a band because I saw the CD in a used bookstore.
She didn’t talk about the band, or Russell, and she never talked about you.”
reached down to pat Wesley’s head.
“Not any of it.
Not ever.
All she wanted was to be a fancy lady in the suburbs.
With a husband and an SUV and a goldendoodle.”
Wesley picked up his head.
His ears swiveled toward , as if he knew his species had been invoked.
Cassie gave a half smile.
“There are worse things than New Jersey and designer dogs.”
“Do you hate her?”
asked.
“I—do I hate her?”
Cassie paused, then shook her head.
“We hurt each other,”
she said.
“But I don’t hate anyone anymore.”
“Hmm,”
said .
An unpleasant warmth was building in her chest, and she could feel her breath coming faster.
It was strange.
She’d come here to find Cassie Griffin, the musician she respected more than any other artist in the world.
Cassie, the brilliant pianist; Cassie, with her once-in-a-lifetime voice.
She’d spent so much time thinking about Cassie from the Griffin Sisters, and no time at all thinking about Cassie from the Grossberg family.
Cassie, who could have been her aunt, if she hadn’t run away.
That Cassie could have stood up for , when fought with her mother.
That Cassie could have been her partner in crime, and in music making.
That Cassie could have been her friend.
Focus, told herself.
She could be angry and disappointed later.
Right now she had to think about the show.
She remembered the notebook she’d peeked at when Cassie had been in the bathroom: all those repetitions of I’m sorry, suggesting that maybe her aunt did hate someone, and maybe that someone was herself.
Guilt, had thought.
She could work with guilt.
“Look,”
she said.
“I get that what happened was, you know.
Tragic.
But you got some great songs out of it.”
Cass looked horrified.
“Russell died.
I hurt my—your mother.
And you didn’t have a father at all.”
“Or an aunt,”
couldn’t keep herself from saying.
Cassie blinked, looking startled.
Then she nodded.
“Or an aunt.
No song is worth that.”
shrugged.
“Which would you have picked—Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham staying together, or the world getting Rumours? Adele staying with . . .”
groped for the name of the guy who’d broken Adele’s heart, then gave up.
If she’d ever known his name, she’d forgotten it.
Lost to the mists of time, as Jordan liked to say.
“One person’s broken heart doesn’t compare to writing a song for the ages.”
“It was more than just broken hearts.”
Cassie’s voice was low.
“Someone died.”
She crossed the room and perched on the edge of her bed looking down at the floor, then up at .
“Who is Adele?”
“Who is . . .”
gawped for a moment, then shook her head.
Time for a change of topics.
But before she could figure out how to turn the conversation around, Cassie said, “What are you doing here, really?”
was startled, but quickly smoothed her face into a semblance of calm.
“Can’t a girl be curious about her family?”
Cassie didn’t answer.
She crossed her arms over her chest.
realized she’d never get a better opening.
Speaking rapidly, like if she got her request out fast enough Cassie wouldn’t be able to refuse her, gave her aunt the condensed version of her life’s history.
She told Cassie that she’d always wanted to be a musician, and that her mother wouldn’t let her, had opposed her at every turn.
She described her audition for The Next Stage, and how she’d made it to the finals, and the mentor they’d assigned her, and how she’d wanted to find her own.
Before she could finish, Cassie was shaking her head.
“No.”
pretended she hadn’t heard.
“So if you help me, that would be, you know . . .”
She groped for a phrase she’d heard on the news a lot in the summer of 2020.
“Reparative justice.”
Cassie’s expression was somewhere between chagrined and amused.
“Reparative justice,”
she repeated.
leaned forward.
“Maybe it sounds crazy, but it isn’t.
My mom’s the way she is because of what happened.
That hurt me.
If things had gone differently—”
Cassie rolled her eyes.
pressed on.
“If things had gone differently, she would have wanted me to be a musician.
She would have helped me.
Maybe we’d be touring together right now.
Me and my mom.
And like you said, I never got to meet my father.”
She bit her lip, arranging her features into a mournful expression.
“And you weren’t there to stick up for me.”
She swallowed hard, realizing that she was no longer faking sorrow.
Thinking about how Cassie could have been there for her actually did hurt.
“I’m sorry about that,”
Cassie said steadily. “But no.”
forged ahead, thinking about the notebooks, weighing risk and potential reward.
“Why are you so sad?”
she asked.
“What are you sorry for?”
Cassie looked startled.
“What? I’m not—”
“What are you doing here?”
interrupted.
“For real.
Why did you run away? How come nobody knows where you are? Why aren’t you singing?”
“Weren’t you listening? It’s my fault Russell died!”
Cassie said, her voice loud.
“Did you pour a bottle of whiskey down his throat and push him in front of a car?”
asked.
Cassie shook her head.
“You don’t understand.”
“No, I do.
I get it.
He was cheating on Zoe, she flipped out, and he got drunk and ended up . . .”
saw how Cassie was glaring at her and decided not to finish the sentence.
“But you didn’t make that happen.”
“He left a note.”
Cassie’s voice was flat.
“He said it was a mistake.
He said he never should have touched me.”
“Yikes,”
said, before she could stop herself.
That certainly explained why Cassie would feel guilty, but it still didn’t make her guilty.
Unless . . .
leaned forward again, elbows on her knees.
“Do you think he killed himself?”
Cassie looked anguished.
“I don’t know.
I don’t know whether it was an accident or if he meant for it to happen, but, either way, it wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t been together.”
“Or maybe,”
said , “it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been with my mom.
Maybe that was his big mistake.
Maybe she was the one he never should have touched.”
leaned back, pleased with her argument.
“You can’t blame yourself—”
“Yes,”
Cassie said, her voice heavy. “I can.”
Her shoulders lifted as she inhaled, then let out the breath in a long sigh.
“You should go.
And you should let—”
She stumbled, very slightly, before saying, “—your mom know where you are.
I’m sure she’s worried about you.”
“My mother,”
said, speaking each word precisely, “does not give a single tiny shit about where I am or what I’m doing.
She doesn’t care.”
“That’s not true.”
Cassie shook her head.
“She isn’t like that.
She cares.”
“You haven’t seen her in twenty years! You have no idea what she’s like!”
shook her head angrily.
“I don’t fit in the picture of her perfect little blended family.
She’s probably thrilled that I’m gone.”
If guilt didn’t work, thought, maybe pity would.
Maybe she could make Cassie feel sorry for her, and then Cassie would agree to help.
“She didn’t want me taking guitar lessons.
Didn’t want me joining a band.
She doesn’t even know I auditioned for The Next Stage.”
She checked to make sure Cassie was still listening.
“I hated school, and I didn’t want to go to college.
I only wanted to make music.
And Zoe wouldn’t let me.”
Cassie hadn’t spoken.
But she was still listening.
could tell.
“I won’t go home,”
said.
“No matter what happens, with . . .”
She made a gesture encompassing herself and her aunt and the possibility of mentorship and The Next Stage.
“New Jersey was that bad?”
“You really seem hung up on the New Jersey of it all,”
observed.
“And it wasn’t just New Jersey.
Or my mom, even.
I have a stepbrother.”
She didn’t have to fake the shudder that ran through her at the memory of Bix’s wet eyes and red lips.
“He’s a creep.”
Cassie’s forehead furrowed.
“Does Zoe know he’s a creep?”
“She ought to know.
I’ve told her.
Over and over and over.”
“And she didn’t do anything about it?”
shrugged.
“He’s sneaky.
He doesn’t really do anything you can nail him for.
He just gets in my personal space, and he stares at me.
All the time.
It’s intensely creepy.”
Cassie was frowning.
“That sounds unpleasant.”
“Unpleasant,”
repeated, and rolled her eyes.
“But still.
If I picked up the phone and called your mother, right this minute, what would she say?”
“You mean, once she finished being shocked that she was hearing from you, after all these years?”
“She’d say,”
Cassie continued doggedly, “that you should come home.
Am I right?”
“Yeah, but it isn’t her choice,”
said .
“I’m legally an adult.
She’s not the boss of me.”
She struck a pose, hand over her chest, face tilted toward the heavens.
“Music is my mistress.
I must follow her where she leads.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
Cassie asked.
“I don’t know what it’s like, trying to be a musician, these days.
But for me—for your mother—for your—for Russell . . .”
She shook her head.
Raised her hands and let them fall.
“It ruined our lives.”
“You made great music,”
said.
“We hurt people.”
“You hurt one person,”
said.
“Russell died.
And your mother got hurt too.”
“Okay, two people,”
allowed.
Cassie raised her eyebrows and gestured wordlessly, first at , then at herself.
“Fine,”
said .
“Four people.
That’s still not exactly a trail of devastation.
And Russell dying was an accident, anyhow.”
She had no idea whether this was true or not, even after reading everything she could find.
Opinion on the Internet was divided as to whether Russell had been suicidal or just drunk and careless, and nothing she’d read had mentioned even the possibility that he and Cassie had been together ...
although there were certainly people who shipped the two of them.
They’d post videos of the band singing “The Gift”
or “Stay the Night,”
or the cover of “Silver Springs”
they’d done at an early show, and talk about the way Russell’s eyes stayed locked on Cassie’s face, not on Zoe’s, and how Cassie’s body leaned toward Russell’s, even though she never looked at him.
“And even if I wanted to perform with you—which I don’t,”
Cassie said, “I haven’t played, or sung, in years.”
Cassie stood up.
Three steps brought her to the door.
She set her hand on the knob.
“You should go.”
knew she looked petulant, but didn’t even try to arrange her face in a more pleasant expression.
“I came all this way to find you.”
“I didn’t ask to be found.”
“And I didn’t ask to have no extended family, but here we are,”
shot back.
Oops.
She hadn’t meant to say that.
Cassie stared at her for what felt like forever.
“Sorry,”
she finally said.
In that moment, felt an opportunity, and knew she’d be stupid not to seize it.
“So how about this,”
she said.
“You play, like, one song with me, in public, somewhere around here.
Just once.
If it’s a total disaster, I’ll get on a plane and go home.
Well, not home.
Back to Los Angeles.
I’ll tell the judges that I couldn’t get you to mentor me, and someone else will win the competition.”
She rolled her eyes at the ceiling.
“And then I’ll just go back to posting my stuff on TikTok and SoundCloud.”
“I don’t know what those are,”
Cassie said, mostly to herself.
ignored her.
“And I won’t have any family.
My father’s dead.
Zoe doesn’t want anything to do with me.
I’ll be all alone in the world.”
She’d meant for it to sound melodramatic, but as she heard the words, she found that she was feeling them too.
All alone in the world.
A motherless child.
More or less.
Cassie met ’s eyes before she looked down at the floor.
“You don’t understand. I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t sing in front of people.”
“Have you tried?”
“You don’t understand,”
Cassie repeated.
“So explain it to me!”
Cassie shook her head again, her face resolute.
And was out of strategies, out of arguments.
She felt jet-lagged, suddenly, tired and sad.
A motherless child.
When Cassie said, “You should go,”
again, nodded and zipped up her coat.
She walked out the door, back into that cruel cold.
She was halfway down the stairs, her car keys in her hand, when she turned around.
“I’m coming back tomorrow.”
Cassie’s voice was muffled but still audible through the door.
“I won’t be here,” she said.
decided to pretend she hadn’t heard.
She didn’t believe it, anyhow.
Her aunt did not impress her as a woman with a packed social calendar.
And where would she even go, in this ridiculously cold, stupidly dark world? kept walking, boots crunching through the snow as she trudged back to her car.
Her plan was to go back to the hotel, regroup, come up with a new plan, except the last thing she’d said to Cassie seemed to have gotten stuck in her head, like a sesame seed between her back teeth.
I won’t have any family.
I’ll be all alone in the world.
She’d told her aunt that the band’s implosion hadn’t caused that much pain.
She’d never thought to add herself to the list of people the Griffin Sisters had destroyed, but maybe she’d been wrong.
Maybe she, too, was a victim of three young people and their bad choices.
Maybe her life, too, had been affected, her dreams derailed before she’d gotten them underway.
Maybe she’d been cursed, the way Cassie seemed to feel she’d been cursed.
But, decided, she wasn’t giving up.
Curses could be lifted.
And, if Cassie had been one of the people who’d hurt her, that made her aunt responsible for undoing what she’d done.