“That’s rough,” Toby said.
“Yeah. And I overheard some … stuff today.”
“Stuff?”
“I think my mom might have told Julian about me when I was five.”
Toby’s eyes widened a little and he took a deep breath. “Pamplemousse.”
“Yeah. What the hell, right?”
“Are you sure that’s true?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure of anything right now except for the fact that all they seem to want to do is fight. Or do whatever weird passive-aggressive non-fighting thing my mom seems into. And I just feel like they’re using me as an excuse for all of their bickering. When really what they’re truly upset about has little or nothing to do with me. And for some reason that makes me even more pissed at them. Which I know sounds crazy self-involved—”
“No. I get it,” Toby assured me.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Really. I mean, whatever problem they have clearly resulted in a big problem for you—your dad being kept from you.”
“Yeah. I don’t know,” I said, and stared down at my bowling shoes. “But sorry. I don’t mean to bore you with all of my family drama.”
“You aren’t boring me,” Toby said gently. “You can talk to me.”
Typical me would’ve shut up. Eaten her pizza. And gotten through the rest of the night by being amiable, but definitely not open. But I surprised myself. I wanted to keep talking to him. And that felt good. It felt really good.
“Okay, fine,” I said.
“Okay, fine?” His face looked hopeful.
“You want to know what else has been bothering me?”
He put his hands on his knees. “Yeah. Lay it on me.”
“My grandma”—and then I quickly corrected myself—“Debra. Yesterday she told me this theory she has about how all of us have multiple versions of ourselves. So like we aren’t just one static personality. We all have different sides.”
Toby nodded.
“And that the tricky thing about love is learning to accept and cherish all the versions of the person you love.”
“Makes a lot of sense to me,” Toby said.
“But the thing that bothered me is I don’t think I do have multiple versions of myself. I’m just Taliah. And just Taliah isn’t even that interesting. She’s just … well … sort of ordinary. And I want to be a musician. I don’t think I’ve told you that because I didn’t want you to think I was some lame girl imitating her dad.”
“I wouldn’t think that,” Toby said softly.
“But you know what I mean. Anyway, I’m worried that the reason Julian has been able to craft so many incredible songs is because he has all these versions of himself. Like the Julian his mom describes is really different from the Julian I’ve seen. Even the glimpse I got of how Julian talks to my mom seems different from the Julian I’ve come to know. And I’m starting to really worry that I’m just not an interesting enough person to make art, to write songs that will matter to other people. I don’t know how you go about cultivating these different selves. I feel like I’ve hardly found my one self, how am I supposed to go about collecting multiples?”
Toby’s lips twitched. I could tell he was fighting back a smile. I stared back at my bowling shoes. “You think I’m silly, right?”
“Yes,” he said. “But not in the way you think.”
He leaned in toward me and reached for my hand. He held it, gently pressing his palm against mine. “Taliah. There are very few people I’ve met who I’ve found more interesting than you. Lost and found, remember?”
I nodded, a fluttery feeling building in my stomach. “You know, these are the kind of moments that I used to roll my eyes at when I read them in books.”
Toby smiled knowingly. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “But it feels different when it’s actually happening to you.”
He leaned in even closer, not letting go of my hand.
“Those scenes,” I continued, “they just seemed so … unrealistic. Like how can you instantly know with a person? But here I am. Talking to you in a way I don’t really talk to anyone.”
His fingers interlaced with mine. “I think with some people you can just tell you’re going to have a history with them. Even if that history hasn’t happened yet.”
The fluttery feeling in my stomach grew. But something about what he said made me think of my mom and Julian. I wondered if it had been like that for them when they first met—that somehow they just knew that they were going to matter to each other.
“What?” Toby said.
“Nothing,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“No. I can tell something else is bothering you.”
“It’s just … it’s upsetting that it seems like all of the songs Julian is famous for are so loved because of his sadness. Like doesn’t it suck that it seems like he owes his whole career to the fact that my mom broke his heart into smithereens?”
Toby’s forehead wrinkled with thought. “You know what?”
“What?”
“I don’t think what people are responding to in those songs is the sadness, Taliah. I think it’s the love.”
III.
Julian was waiting for me right when Toby dropped me off.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He was standing near the entryway to the back porch.
“For what?”
“Well, for everything. But in particular for being scared when I first found out about you.”
I looked at him and he seemed more vulnerable than he ever had before. Even in the hospital, I hadn’t seen him seem this open. This raw. All of his rock star persona was gone. He was just a guy. My dad.
“I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel,” he continued. “I’d never gotten over your mother, you know? But I had taught myself how to live with it. I’d developed coping mechanisms. And then, learning about you, it opened up all those old wounds. I got scared. I ruined my chance. And I’m so sorry for that.”
I paused for a long time. “You found out when I was five?”
He tipped his head back and sighed. “Yes. But … I was an idiot.”
I stared at him.
“And when you got my letter?”
“I was an idiot again.”
“That’s starting to become a common refrain,” I said.
“I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Taliah. I’m tired of being an idiot and a coward. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I’m going to try to be better, you know?”
I looked down at my sneakers. I was silent for a long time. I thought of his famous pause in “That Night.”
“Tal?” he said.
“I know,” I finally said, quietly.
“Do you?” His eyes searched mine.
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
“Plus,” he said, a small smile snaking across his lips, “I had no idea how great you would be. I was such a clueless idiot.”
I laughed, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.
“No, I’m serious,” he said. “You’re so great.”
He reached out to hug me, and I let him. I didn’t know if I quite forgave him yet, but I understood. And somehow understanding felt even more important than forgiveness. “Thanks, Dad.”
I felt his whole body tense. He squeezed me tighter.
DAY FIVE
(In Which I Learn How All Endings Are Also Beginnings)
I.