fields out back, to the farm. “Bad enough I have to go. Who’s going to bring in the corn this year? Who’s going to mow the hay? Julie sure can’t.”
The words stung Julian. A little at first, but the ache spread like blood on tissue. The rest of the conversation turned to noise in his ears. As he slipped from the kitchen, he heard them going on about sending pay packets home to hire farm hands, and how Sam wasn’t even old enough to be conscripted yet.
Julian came back to the table for dinner, but it was an ugly meal, full of make-believe. Everyone used their best manners and flattest voices. The food tasted like ash, and no one laughed, not once. Not a single time.
Julian couldn’t look at any of them. He’d failed his parents by default, lost Elise before he even had her, and couldn’t measure himself by his brothers anymore. The truth was, they’d suspended him in a perfect bubble. Acted like he was the same as them, but secretly believed he never would be.
So that night, he stayed inside while his parents and brothers argued over coffee on the back porch. Something about the night air, or maybe darkness, made it easier for them to yell themselves hoarse. It also made it easier for Julian to steal the two hundred dollars his mother kept in a coffee can above the stove.
Shutting up his bedroom, he left by the front door. It was morning before anyone realized he was gone, and by then, he was on a train bound for Chicago. From there, he’d head west. The scent of honeysuckle and the memory of the siren, the girl he’d always seen against an ocean sunset, beckoned.
She was as good a compass as any.
***
For most of the passengers onboard, the train’s gentle sway was a lullaby. Men in smart uniforms had come through hours ago to douse the lights in the car, leaving Kate to sit awake in the dark.
She couldn’t even lean her head against the window. Mollie had claimed that seat and now dozed against a backdrop of scrub-dotted mountains. Even Handsome slept. His talons cut into the back of Kate’s seat. Every so often, he’d shuffle his wings, a dark harbinger over her shoulder.
Kate wrapped her arms around her pillow and sighed. If she could see the ocean, things would be so much better. The first time she’d stepped foot in San Diego, she felt a familiar caress on her skin—the same touch she always felt when she held off time.
There was the smallest part of her afraid that she was heading in the wrong direction. What if this was the last summer she’d see him? What if they were meant to meet? What if she should have stayed in San Diego or boarded a southbound train for Mexico?
The questions spun round and round in her head. Staring at the ceiling only made her think. Thinking made her worry. Worrying made her doubt. It grew like a knot in her belly, filling her with a terrible, unraveled skein.
It could take weeks to get her film back from the developer. Without
The Lady of Shalott
to show the studios, she had nothing. They’d have to make do in the meantime, but Kate had no idea how far her little bank roll would go. What did it cost to let a room? How much would they pay for two breakfasts and dinners a day?
Mollie could get work straightaway at a dancehall or a movie palace—they loved having pretty girls up front to lure customers. Whether Kate was pretty enough for those jobs, she didn’t know. But since she only had the clothes on her back, and those clothes were her father’s, she thought it unlikely she’d be hired to dance for dimes.
The knot grew a bit more, because she realized she had no idea what boys—what anyone, really—did for a living. She’d never had a permanent home, never attended classes in a schoolhouse. Her world was made of nomads and artists, expatriates and wanderers.
Daddy sold paintings sometimes. He and Mimi hired themselves out to create art for the World’s Fairs. They never had to pay train fare. Only rarely did they rent a house—there were
The words stung Julian. A little at first, but the ache spread like blood on tissue. The rest of the conversation turned to noise in his ears. As he slipped from the kitchen, he heard them going on about sending pay packets home to hire farm hands, and how Sam wasn’t even old enough to be conscripted yet.
Julian came back to the table for dinner, but it was an ugly meal, full of make-believe. Everyone used their best manners and flattest voices. The food tasted like ash, and no one laughed, not once. Not a single time.
Julian couldn’t look at any of them. He’d failed his parents by default, lost Elise before he even had her, and couldn’t measure himself by his brothers anymore. The truth was, they’d suspended him in a perfect bubble. Acted like he was the same as them, but secretly believed he never would be.
So that night, he stayed inside while his parents and brothers argued over coffee on the back porch. Something about the night air, or maybe darkness, made it easier for them to yell themselves hoarse. It also made it easier for Julian to steal the two hundred dollars his mother kept in a coffee can above the stove.
Shutting up his bedroom, he left by the front door. It was morning before anyone realized he was gone, and by then, he was on a train bound for Chicago. From there, he’d head west. The scent of honeysuckle and the memory of the siren, the girl he’d always seen against an ocean sunset, beckoned.
She was as good a compass as any.
***
For most of the passengers onboard, the train’s gentle sway was a lullaby. Men in smart uniforms had come through hours ago to douse the lights in the car, leaving Kate to sit awake in the dark.
She couldn’t even lean her head against the window. Mollie had claimed that seat and now dozed against a backdrop of scrub-dotted mountains. Even Handsome slept. His talons cut into the back of Kate’s seat. Every so often, he’d shuffle his wings, a dark harbinger over her shoulder.
Kate wrapped her arms around her pillow and sighed. If she could see the ocean, things would be so much better. The first time she’d stepped foot in San Diego, she felt a familiar caress on her skin—the same touch she always felt when she held off time.
There was the smallest part of her afraid that she was heading in the wrong direction. What if this was the last summer she’d see him? What if they were meant to meet? What if she should have stayed in San Diego or boarded a southbound train for Mexico?
The questions spun round and round in her head. Staring at the ceiling only made her think. Thinking made her worry. Worrying made her doubt. It grew like a knot in her belly, filling her with a terrible, unraveled skein.
It could take weeks to get her film back from the developer. Without
The Lady of Shalott
to show the studios, she had nothing. They’d have to make do in the meantime, but Kate had no idea how far her little bank roll would go. What did it cost to let a room? How much would they pay for two breakfasts and dinners a day?
Mollie could get work straightaway at a dancehall or a movie palace—they loved having pretty girls up front to lure customers. Whether Kate was pretty enough for those jobs, she didn’t know. But since she only had the clothes on her back, and those clothes were her father’s, she thought it unlikely she’d be hired to dance for dimes.
The knot grew a bit more, because she realized she had no idea what boys—what anyone, really—did for a living. She’d never had a permanent home, never attended classes in a schoolhouse. Her world was made of nomads and artists, expatriates and wanderers.
Daddy sold paintings sometimes. He and Mimi hired themselves out to create art for the World’s Fairs. They never had to pay train fare. Only rarely did they rent a house—there were
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