Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
June
“It’s too much,” Mom says.
My parents talk in hushed voices, but with my ear pressed to their bedroom door, I can hear everything.
“She’s twenty-six. I think she’s old enough to know if it’s too much. We have to stop coddling her,” he says.
“Bodhi, she’s experienced more than most people experience in a lifetime.
I don’t care how old she is; it’s all too much.
She’s still dealing with a broken heart.
She’s back in LA. And my mom has basically blackmailed her into performing again.
Who’s going to take responsibility when she cracks?
It’s too much. She didn’t get to bed until nearly two in the morning. ”
“It was her idea,” he says.
“That’s not fair. You know she’s all or nothing. There is no in-between with her.”
“Babe,” he sighs, “what do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know, but I can’t lose my mom and my daughter.”
“You’re not going to lose her.”
“We lost her, Bodhi! She left everything, including us, and found a new life halfway across the country. That felt like losing her.”
“Well, now she’s back.”
“She’s back and going to doctor’s appointments with Mom. She’s back and practicing her cello for three hours in the morning and three hours after dinner. She’s back and she hasn’t once laid by the pool.”
“She swims every day,” Dad says.
“Yeah. She swims laps until she’s out of breath. She does everything until she just can’t do it anymore. Then she sleeps a few hours, wakes up, and does it all again.”
I peel my ear away from the door. I’ve heard enough. My parents fighting over my well-being does nothing to help. On my way downstairs for breakfast, I pull my phone from my robe’s pocket and text Flynn—my favorite escape.
June: If u could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
I sit at the dining room table where a bowl of overnight oats and fresh berries is ready for me.
Flynn: Where I am
Flynn: If u could live anywhere in the world where would it be?
June: I’d live in a van with a full tank of gas and endless possibilities
June: My dad had an old VW van when my mom met him. She said she fell as hard for the van as she did for my dad. And she named his van Alice.
Flynn: that might be the coolest thing I’ve ever heard
June: If u could only eat one food for the rest of your life what would it be?
Flynn: Duh. Chicken fingers
I giggle, taking a bite of oats.
Flynn: Last song u listened to that had words
My tummy does a little flip. Are we going to talk songs like my parents did?
June: Complicated by GRAACE
June: U?
Flynn: Iris by Josh Ross
My heart fractures. I don’t think I’ve heard that artist, but I know every lyric to “Iris,” and Flynn listening to it makes everything inside hurt.
June: I have to go
Flynn: I have to stay
“There you are,” Dad says, sauntering into the dining room in shorts and a T-shirt. “Let’s go to the beach today. No cello. No doctor's appointments. Just a day of relaxing in the sun.”
“Yeah?” I sip my green tea. “Sounds like a great idea. Just hanging out in the sun, thinking of Grandma’s melanoma diagnosis. Are we taking SPF 100 and wide-brimmed hats?”
He frowns, sitting across from me. Violet, Grandma’s personal chef, delivers his coffee and an omelet with a side of sourdough toast. It’s like she magically knows what time everyone will arrive for breakfast.
“Jeez, Zoya, did you really have to go there?” Dad asks.
“I have a better idea.” Mom’s cheery tone draws our attention toward her as she approaches the table in a long, floral sundress, tying her blond hair into a messy bun. “Let’s take a bike tour.”
Dad eyes me, waiting for my response.
I stir my oats before taking another bite and nodding. “I don’t hate that idea.”
“A little piece of home. Maybe you’ll pick up a few tips,” Mom says.
I appreciate her calling Minneapolis my home, even if I don’t see myself going back anytime soon.
“Let me know if you find something to book,” I say with a toothy grin before heading out to the pool where Grandma Juni is swimming laps.
When she notices me, she stops and pulls off her swim cap. Then she rests her arms on the pool deck. It’s hard to believe she has cancer spreading through her body.
“Good morning.” She gives me her brightest smile.
“Hey.” I sit on the end of the padded lounger and hug my knees.
“It’s a beautiful day. What are you going to do to make the most of it?” She’s said those exact words to me too many times to remember.
“I was just going to ask you the same thing.”
She laughs, attempting to lift herself out of the pool, something she’s always done with ease. When her elbows buckle, she frowns and wades to the stairs. I act like I didn’t notice, averting my gaze until she wraps up in a towel and sits on the lounger beside mine.
“Your mom said there’s a young man in your life.”
I shake my head. “Was.”
“What’s his name?”
“Flynn.”
“What happened?” She pulls her hair over her shoulder and wrings out the water.
“He had a difficult childhood, and it’s jaded him.”
“Invite him to LA. It’s pretty amazing what a week in the sun can do.”
I roll my eyes. “No. Inviting him here is a terrible idea. He has an aversion to …” I wave my hand around. “This.”
“What’s this?”
“Excess.”
She eyes me. “Excess?”
“Mansions and pools. Personal chefs. Designer clothes. And I love that about him, even if the root cause is sad. But he can’t separate me from the life that was chosen for me.”
“Then he’s not the one, my dear. If he has a chip on his shoulder now, he’ll always have one. It’s not your job to make him like you. Don’t make yourself small for anyone.” She squeezes my hand. “Not ever. Understood?”
“Is that what you think I did by moving to Minnesota? You think I made myself small?”
She spreads her towel out and reclines on the lounger.
I doubt she’s wearing sunscreen. “I think you ran away. And that’s okay.
I’ve done it. Your mom did it. There’s nothing wrong with taking a break.
A reset. But we don’t just become other people.
You can downsize your life, but it doesn’t change who you are. ”
I turn to sit on the side of the lounger, squinting against the sun. “Who am I?”
“If you don’t know that by now, then your time in Minnesota was all for nothing.
And don’t lie to yourself.” She closes her eyes.
“You didn’t leave the stage because you fell out of love with the music.
That kind of talent and passion are inextricably woven into your soul.
It’s like running away from your shadow.
You can’t do it. It’s always there unless you live in darkness.
And you and your Mom can bellyache all you want, but you’ve been relentlessly practicing for you, not for me.
You’d give the same flawless performance on stage with no practice.
Music will always be your first love. You won’t truly live without it.
And I don’t want to die until I know you’re not just existing, but truly living.
So think of me and this experience I’m having as your muse. ”
“My muse?”
“Yes, a muse is—”
“I know what a muse is,” I say. “I’m going inside. Do you need anything?”
“I’m good.”
When I return to the dining room, my parents look up at me. I can tell they were talking about me again. “Did either of you tell Grandma that Flynn is a muse?”
They look at each other, brows furrowed, then they look at me, shaking their heads.
“Why?” Mom asks.
“No reason,” I mumble, heading toward the stairs.