Everyone was in town for the Dunway holiday party. My sisters, the husbands, Larissa’s kids. Cole managed to arrive after the tamalada, the brat, but since Emmeline and I had been jumping in to prep the salsas, pick up the masa and pork and other ingredients, and generally tidy the house, we managed everything without his help.
I still sent some threatening texts about if he thought moving to Philly meant he could get out of hours of spreading dough and fillings on corn husks and folding them so they were ready for the steamer, he was very much mistaken.
Cole finally showed, looking bit sheepish but bearing a six-pack of beer. Emmeline snagged one and took off for her room. He made to follow suit, but I fixed him with a look and said, “Oh, no, you don’t. You missed Mama and Aunt Max trying to one-up each other with their chicken fillings. You’re on clean-up.”
“Ohh, which are Maxima’s? I gotta grab one before anyone sees.”
“You are going to be in so much trouble.” I grabbed my own beer and stuck the rest in the fridge.
“Only if anyone tells on me. Which my favorite sister would never do.”
Sarita walked up behind him just then, and I nearly snorted beer through my nose. Cole spun and wrapped her in a hug. “You won’t tell on me, right, favorite sister?”
She bopped the back of his head. “You’re so lucky Mama is still outside telling Bill and Sam they’re messing up the porch lights.”
“Ignatius helping them?” I guessed. Ignatius Madigan—or Scorch, as the industry called him—was the slightly more famous of my two rock star brothers-in-law. He and Sarita had fallen for each other a few Christmases back, when he was escaping some wicked publicity by holing up in the elders’ rental cottage on the beach. Through the vagaries of family alchemy, he and Uncle Bill had become buds.
Sarita confirmed my guess, then pointed out the tamales he wanted to Cole. Once we all had plates, and our brother promised he’d tackle all the dishes, we retreated to the living room.
“So what happened with Cutie McChoirface?” Cole asked. “And also, please tell me it’s over because if three of my sisters run off with musicians, I have to wonder what fate has in store for me and Emmeline.”
“I’m a musician, too,” Sarita reminded him, though she’d left her school orchestra position after making things permanent with Ignatius.
He waved a hand.
“And Alfie can’t even carry a lullaby if you pour it into a nice empty bucket for him,” I added.
Cole brushed off the reminder about Larissa’s husband, too.
I sighed. “Well, you can stop worrying. Karl and I are over.”
Of course, that wasn’t a complete enough answer for them. I’d kept all of the details to myself during the tamalada, but now that the elders were congregating on the patio with their own drinks, I told my siblings more. Jeannie wandered in half-way through, along with her husband Brendan, who took a look at our circle of Dunway siblings and slipped out to join Ignatius. I knew both husbands would hear a version of my news later, but it was easier to share without them in the room. I loved them, because they loved my sisters, and also they were great people. But I wasn’t up for talking about the sad parts of my dating life with them in the audience.
“And now I’m single again. I mean, the whole thing was less than a month of my life, so it’s not even a big story. I don’t know why y’all are giving me the inquisition about it. Like I told Emmeline, this frees me up to follow my bliss or whatever. And now Cole and I got the lease situation sorted, there’s nothing holding me back.”
“Except a destination for this whole adventure of yours. Or even a first step,” Cole muttered.
Sarita smacked him on the arm. “Be nice.”
“I am being nice,” he protested. “I’m just pointing out that Gogo swore she was going to spend this month coming up with a list of possible passions to pursue. She only did the handbells cause I tricked her into it, and she hasn’t told me the littlest hint of what comes next. Instead she spent all that thinking time getting hot and heavy with Karl.”
“It wasn’t just the sex.”
“Trust me, we know.” Sarita knocked her shoulder into mine. “You spammed the group text with a thousand pics of his dog.”
“Not an euphemism,” Cole said.
“Parsley’s a good dog.” I drained my beer, like it would help me swallow down the pang of missing her comforting weight at my side. “Besides, I’ve only been at the hotel and church and here otherwise. Parsley was the most interesting thing I could send y’all pictures of.”
“We don’t need photos to find you worth our time,” Cole said with that big-brother-seeing-into-my-soul thing he could do too easily.
“I know that,” I said. “But it’s not like I had anything else going on in my life.”
“You have us,” Sarita said gently.
“I know, but.” I looked at them all, a bunch of fun-mirror reflections of my face watching me with kindness and love. “I adore all of you, and I love spending time with you. But too often I’ve let myself exist in your shadows. Four older siblings—it’s a lot of shadow, y’all. And you’ve got your relationships, or your careers, or your communities, or your hobbies. Whatever they are, you’ve got your things that you’re passionate about. And here I am, just kind of muddling through. I can’t define myself forever in opposition to or alignment with my big brother and sisters. I need to exist in the sun, away from Rockport, so I can make that list Cole wants from me.”
Ignatius cleared his throat as he settled onto the piano bench. I hadn’t seen him reenter, though Sarita’s smile said she’d been all too aware of his every move. “So. Sorry to interrupt. I was chatting with Emmeline, and we had an idea. But, listen, if it messes with your sunshine thing, there’s no pressure, right?”
My pulse quickened as I looked at him. “What is it?”
“You know I’m going on tour soon? It’ll be eight months, mostly US dates. I think you should come on with me. Be my assistant.”
I was floored. “Ignatius, you’re serious?”
“You’re organized and decisive, and you’re good with people. You know when to be pushy. And I can trust you. I think you’d be perfect. But you’d be stuck spending a lot of time with Sarita, if that’s a deal-breaker.”
His grin cracked the rest of us up, even while his wife stuck out her tongue. She took my hand, though, squeezing it like she needed me to know she supported this plan.
I hopped up to give him a hug. “When do you start?” My tone didn’t reveal any of the ways I was quashing my urge to run to Karl with the news.
We compared calendars and he sent my email to his manager. I’d have a contract to consider by New Year’s Eve.
“Travel, work, a little bit of spare time—right, Ignatius?—to think about the things that matter to you. A free trip to Philly to check up on me,” Cole said. “It’s everything you were looking for, Gogo.”
He was looking at me too keenly, and I grabbed all the empty bottles to take to recycling. And then I got started unloading the dishwasher, cause I was absolutely not going to give in to the prick of tears stabbing at my eyes. Not when all the things I’d claimed to want just landed in my lap.
Nothing was stopping me from following this dream. And like I always said, it was the journey that mattered to me. I didn’t need destinations: I needed the open road of possibility before me. And now I had it.
It was perfect. I told myself that seven times in a row, hoping it’d stick: this opportunity was perfect.
In the other room, Ignatius started to play. As always, his music filled the room. I drifted in, ready to let it chase away any residual nonsense aches in my heart. We all sang along, our voices lifting in harmony with his piano, even Jeannie’s. For a moment, everything felt right in the world. But eventually the song came to an end, and the couples drifted off together, and Cole took over the kitchen, and where there had been a circle of warmth, now it was just me, quiet, and alone.