Twenty-Six
TWENTY-SIX
JULIA
Julia can’t remember the last time she’s felt so alive. What a shitty, awful, no-good thing to think as a mother. But it’s also unfortunately sort of true? She adores Emma. Emma is everything to her, the air that she breathes. But ever since Emma was born, Emma’s also consumed every moment, every thought in Julia’s head. So often, Julia would find herself just staring off into space while half watching Emma play, waiting for Emma to call out to her. Because Emma is always needing her for something, every few minutes. Playing with her is somehow both mind-numbing and also demanding, so taxing on her attention that over the years, Julia’s intellect has deteriorated so gently and so softly that she hadn’t known it was happening at all.
But now, it feels as though an effervescent vitamin has been dropped into the tepid waters of her brain, and all of a sudden, the sparks are back, cool air flowing so clearly through her lungs. She feels as though she’s come back to life. She feels the first stirrings when she meets up with Cassie, the TikTok influencer. Immediately upon seeing Cassie, Julia’s mind goes into camera mode, studying the angles of Cassie’s jawline and cheekbones and the tint of her eyes and hair, and planning how best to highlight those unique features using natural light. She hasn’t thought in that way for so long, assessing people’s faces as a photographer instead of her eyes just sliding over them in that dead, glazed way she’s been doing.
And when the session begins, everything comes flooding back to Julia. She expertly positions Cassie so that the girl is outlined by golden sunlight, then starts telling mom jokes to make Cassie laugh or roll her eyes. With every few clicks, she tells Cassie that she looks wonderful, that the camera loves her, that her aura is amazing, and after a few minutes, Cassie is so relaxed that the two of them start chatting like friends as they work together.
As she works, the little hairs on the back of Julia’s neck rise, and she turns and spots someone in the distance—too far away to tell if it’s a man or a woman—but something about the figure makes her think she knows them. She hesitates, unsure if she should wave, unsure even if the lone figure is indeed watching her.
“Everything okay?” Cassie says.
Julia snaps back to her client. Her client . My god, she has a client. She hurriedly nods, making herself smile. “Yes, just looking for the best lighting.” She glances behind her shoulder and finds that the figure is gone. She must be imagining things. She shakes off the weird moment and focuses her attention fully on the shoot once again.
When she’s done, she shows some of the photos in the viewfinder to Cassie, and Cassie says, “Holy fucking shitballs, man!” which is somehow the best compliment Julia has ever received.
She practically hops back to her car, one hundred dollars richer. Not the biggest paycheck, but definitely the most rewarding. Vera has sent her two texts, both of them pictures of Emma. Emma at the pier, pointing at the seals, and Emma at home, pretending to paint Vera’s toenails. It looks like Emma’s also having the time of her life. The entire drive home, Julia sings at the top of her lungs to the latest Taylor Swift song, something she hasn’t done since she dated Marshall, because he’d told her that her singing sounded like a wolf in heat. When she gets home, Julia looks up at the house and sees warm yellow light from the front window, and for the first time, she doesn’t feel exhausted or depressed to come home. It used to be just her and Emma, most of the time, and she’d be coming home lugging grocery bags while Emma screamed or cried or asked some unanswerable question like: “Do earthworms have butts?” and arriving at the house just meant coming back to a cluttered space devoid of any joy, and she knew that she would have to rush about and try her best to pick up as much of the mess as she could while also cooking a meal and trying to get Emma bathed and fed, all before Marshall came home.
But now, Julia opens the door and what greets her first is the soul-enriching smells of Vera’s cooking. Followed by the patter of Emma’s little feet as she runs to the door. “Mommy!” And Julia goes to her knees and hugs her baby girl, inhaling the sweet child smell of her, and truly she has never known a moment filled with so much joy. When Julia opens her eyes, she sees that there’s someone else in the living room.
“Sana!” she says, straightening back up and lifting Emma as she does. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting—”
“Sorry,” Sana says, standing up. “I—uh, Vera sort of invited me here? I tried telling her no, but...”
Julia snorts. “I’m guessing that didn’t go well.” She places her camera bag carefully on a side table. She’s not quite sure how to feel about having Sana here. The last time Sana came, she’d asked quite a few invasive questions, though maybe that made sense, given she’s trying to do a true crime story about Marshall. Still, Julia’s not in the mood to talk about Marshall right now, so she half hopes that Sana will leave soon.
“Um, I kind of have something to tell you,” Sana says, not quite meeting Julia’s eyes. Something in her voice makes the back of Julia’s neck prickle. This does not sound good.
Vera’s head pops out from behind the kitchen door. “Ah, Julia, you home. Sana is here.”
“Yes, I see that, Vera.”
“She has something to tell you.”
“Yep, she was about to tell me.”
“Emma,” Vera calls out, “you are supposed to be my sous chef, remember? Come here and help me make dumplings.”
Before Julia can react, Emma wriggles out of her arms and dashes off to the kitchen. Great, now Julia’s left with Sana, and for whatever reason, the vibes in here are painfully awkward.
“Um...” Sana begins.
Vera’s head pops out again. “Sana is quite long-winded, so I help to shorten: Sana does not have a pot catch. She is an artist. Marshall steal her work. She did not kill him.” She smiles at the two of them, who are standing there with mouths agape, then says, “Okay, now I make dumplings.”
Julia turns back to Sana, her mouth opening and closing. “Wh—” Nope, nothing comes out. She doesn’t even know where to begin. Then, sighing, Julia decides to just go with it. She sinks into one of the sofas and leans back. “All right, you’d better tell me from the beginning.”
“Maybe not from beginning, it will take too long, the food will get cold. Just tell her from the spring show,” Vera calls out.
“Yep, I think we got it from here, Vera,” Julia says. She catches Sana’s eye, and there is some understanding between them, a spark of laughter.
Sana takes a deep breath. “I was at CalArts...”
···
About fifteen minutes later, Julia sits back, her thoughts swimming in circles. She’s stunned. No, she’s actually not. She feels like she should be stunned, that’s the thing, but is she really? Was the revelation that her dead husband was conning college kids really such a shock? No, because when Julia thinks about it, it fits Marshall, the pieces sliding easily into the negative spaces of the image of Marshall. For years, she’s learned to only see the good side of Marshall, to believe him when he tells her that he wants nothing but the best for them, and after Emma arrived, he’d say things like it’s only the three of them against the whole world. But now it hits her. Why against the whole world? Nobody should be against the entire world. Not unless you’re someone like Marshall, who goes through life by cheating and swindling everyone he comes across.
She’s so incredibly sad for Sana, this young woman, a kid, really, coming across someone like Marshall so young. It’s only then, when she thinks the words “so young,” that it hits Julia that in fact, she came across Marshall at an even younger age. She was in high school, for god’s sakes. Yes, he had been as well, both of them the same age, but now that Julia thinks about it, she should’ve seen it then, the way that Marshall had slowly, subtly prized all her support systems away so that by the end of high school, all Julia felt she could count on was Marshall. Her friendships had been peeled away by Marshall’s calculated comments about how he didn’t like Mindy, or how Oliver had talked bad about Julia behind her back. Her parents, perhaps sensing something rotten in Marshall, had tried to talk her out of dating him, but it only ended up pushing her farther away from them. And then there were Julia’s own dreams, her goal of being a photographer, gently discouraged with so much patience on Marshall’s part that she hadn’t even known he was doing it. Even after having Emma, Marshall had kept Julia from joining any mom groups, telling her that the women would just judge her for not being able to breastfeed properly, then later on, as she kept breastfeeding, he told her that the other moms would find it weird that she was still nursing Emma.
God. Julia isn’t sad now; Julia is fucking furious. At Marshall, yes, but most of all, at herself. How could she have been so goddamn stupid? How had she let him tear her down like that, piece by minuscule piece? Such tiny pieces of her that she hadn’t realized they were being taken away from her until she is left suddenly hollow. And now she’s faced with another one of his victims, a young person whose future had been so bright, who is now staring at Julia with wide, fearful eyes. Eyes that are jaded and bitter and broken.
“Oh, Sana.” Julia reaches out and grasps Sana’s hand. Sana flinches but doesn’t pull away. “I am so sorry that he did that to you. I don’t know if your paintings are among the ones that Oliver found at Marshall’s apartment, but you are welcome to look for them. And of course, you are welcome to the... uh, the NFT part of them? I don’t quite understand how it works, but everything is yours, you can have it once I figure out how to give you ownership.” Julia shakes her head. “Look, it’s not that I suspected you, but I guess Vera’s been going on about how one of us is the killer, and honestly, I haven’t really known what to think. I mean, now we know you and I didn’t kill him, so who did? Do you think it really was an accident?”
“I don’t know,” Sana says. “From what I knew about Marshall, I think he crossed a lot of people.”
Julia nods. “Yeah. Any of them could’ve...” Her voice trails away, and for a moment, they both stare into the distance, each one lost in her own thoughts. “And there was the break-in, which seems too coincidental to have been done by someone else. Oh! Is that why you didn’t want Vera to report the break-in to the police?”
“I’m sorry,” Sana says, her voice cracking. “Yeah, I didn’t want to have to talk to the cops and—I don’t know, I just wasn’t sure what they might say. I mean, at the end of the day, I did attack him. I scratched him, I don’t know how long DNA lasts under fingernails, and I just... I got scared. I’m so sorry.”
“I understand,” Julia says, and strangely, she does. Well, maybe she doesn’t quite understand, but she can definitely empathize, and at the end of the day, she knows in her gut that Sana isn’t guilty of killing Marshall, at least.
Tears shine in Sana’s eyes. “And I’m sorry I lied to you about having a podcast. I just—”
“It’s fine,” Julia says quickly. “I don’t hold that against you.”
“I do,” Vera says, popping back out from the kitchen. “Lying is bad.” Her head pops back into the kitchen.
Julia and Sana stare in the direction of the kitchen for a while, then grin at each other. “How long do you think she’s been listening?” Sana whispers.
“Oh, the whole time, I’m sure.” Julia squeezes Sana’s hand. “I’m sorry that my husband traumatized you so much that you haven’t been able to follow your passion ever since.”
Sana gnaws on her bottom lip. “I should just move on, right?”
“No. I mean, well, yes, that would be ideal, but it sounds like he broke you down.” Julia takes a deep breath. “When I was a teen, all I wanted was to be a photographer. And Marshall—god, I don’t even quite know how he did it—but over time, he convinced me that it was a useless dream, that it wouldn’t pay enough to make a living, that I should just treat it as a hobby. So I did, but then he’d tell me that my hobby was too expensive, too time-consuming, and so on. And finally, I stopped doing it altogether. I haven’t done any photography for years aside from those portraits I did of Emma.” Julia shakes her head in wonderment. “Actually, today was the first day in years that I took photos of someone other than Emma.”
Sana raises her eyebrows. “Oh, cool! Who did you take pictures of?”
“This TikTok influencer. I think her name’s Cassie... Red?”
“Oh my god, CassieRed!” Sana squeals. “I follow her! She’s not yet at that breakout stage, but she’s getting there, I can tell. I love her TikToks. I can’t believe you got to shoot her! How was it?”
“Fucking amazing.” The words are out before Julia knows it, and Sana cackles. Julia joins in, and before long, she’s taken out her camera and is showing the viewfinder photos to Sana, who oohs and aahs at the images. When Vera tells them that dinner is ready, the two women continue chatting as they make their way to the dining room, where another one of Vera’s incredible feasts greets them.
Vera points at the various dumpling dishes. “Pork and chive dumplings, crab meat and pork fried dumplings, Szechuan chicken soup dumplings. And here we have sweet-and-sour fish, roast duck, and three-egg spinach.” She beams at Emma, who is already seated in her high chair. “And my sous chef help with everything.”
Emma nods proudly, and Julia bends down to kiss her forehead. “You are amazing,” she tells Emma. As Julia slides into her seat, she pats her belly. “God, Vera, I’ve gained five pounds ever since you moved in.”
“Yes, you are looking much healthier now. Sit, Sana,” Vera orders.
Sana does so, and Vera starts heaping food onto her plate. “That’s too much—” Sana protests, but Vera ignores her until Sana’s plate is heaving with an obscene amount of food. Then Vera turns her attention to Emma, spearing pieces of fish and placing them on Emma’s plate.
“You must eat lots of fish,” Vera says. “Fish is good for your brain. You want to be smart like me, right?”
“I do!” Emma says, spooning the fish into her mouth.
By now, the sight of her daughter eating so many different kinds of foods no longer astounds Julia, but she still marvels at it. The way that Vera has somehow moved Emma so effortlessly away from her usual beige foods. As they eat, Julia gazes fondly at Vera and wonders just how in the world she got so lucky to have the old woman in her house.
Then, of course, she remembers that the only reason Vera is here is because Marshall is dead. Julia is devastated by Marshall’s death, of course she is, but a teeny-tiny part of her is grateful that such a tragedy could lead to such a blessing. Sana told Julia that she, Riki, and Oliver spent the morning cleaning out Vera’s teahouse. It’s a reminder that Vera’s stay here is temporary, which makes Julia sad. Hopefully, even after Vera moves back to her house, Julia’s life won’t fall apart again.