A Song for Julia

second then said, “Eat up.”
    Sean let go of my hand instantly and reached out to grab a stack of pancakes. Jack swatted at his hand. “We serve guests first, Sean! And use your fork, please.”
    Crank’s hand lingered around mine, no longer than a second after Sean let go. Not enough to mean anything, he was just slow, I guess. But it was oddly uncomfortable and very comfortable at the same time. Confusing. Like everything else about him.
    Before I knew it, Sean and Crank piled my plate high with more calories than I normally eat in a year. I didn’t care. The pancakes had an odd texture, light and sweet, because of the rice flour, and I’d be happy if I could take fifty pounds of bacon to my grave with me. For the first few minutes, I concentrated on eating and deliberately ignoring Crank, because the last thing I wanted to do was pay attention to the fact that he was sitting two feet away from me in his pajamas. Or what looked to have been his pajamas ten years ago.
    “This is incredible,” I said. “Thank you so much. I haven’t had a home cooked meal in—I can’t remember when.”
    “I’d like to hear you play the piano,” Sean said, out of nowhere. Which was odd, because he hadn’t even been in the room when we had the conversation about it.
    Crank looked at me, and I looked at Sean, and Jack looked at me, and I found myself furiously blushing, which is something I don’t do. Ever. “I don’t know …” I said in a hesitant tone of voice.
    “Come on,” Jack said. “We’d love to hear it.”
    “Please?” Sean said. “No one has played it since Mom left. Dad has it tuned every six months, but no one plays it any more.”
    I swallowed, because both Crank and Jack froze. I swear it felt like a bomb was about to go off in that kitchen, the tension hit so suddenly. At the time Sean said the words, Crank was reaching for another handful of bacon, and he literally froze in place with his arm extended.
    A lot more was going on here than I knew about. And I didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing. But I didn’t know what the right thing was, and Jack and Crank, both frozen like terrified rabbits, were no help at all. It was obvious that both of them were so wound up around Sean that the whole situation could explode in a heartbeat. So, my voice sounding meager and unsure in my ears, I said, “Okay.”

    The end, not so much (Crank)
    When she said, “Okay,” in that hesitant voice, I think I let out a sigh of relief. Because Sean went back to eating. On the one hand, the last thing I wanted was Sean getting attached to Julia in any way. On the other hand, I really didn’t want to deal with a blowup this morning, and anything involving our mother risked a blowup from Sean.
    So Dad and I went back to eating as if nothing had happened, and Sean launched into a monologue. For the last six months, he’d been alternating between a huge set of medical textbooks I’d picked up at an estate sale and an equally huge set of manga comics he’d amassed over the last two years. So it didn’t surprise me when he started talking, seemingly randomly, about open heart surgery, but I could tell Julia was more than a little bit surprised.
    Once he got started, it would be impossible for anyone to get a word in edgewise, so at the first pause for breath, my dad jumped in. “Sean, this is fascinating, but I’m sure Julia might like to know more about you.”
    Sean didn’t respond for a second, so Julia asked, “Where do you go to school, Sean?”
    He answered in his usual loud monotone. “Excel High School. It’s a magnet for public safety studies.”
    “It used to be South Boston High,” my dad said. “I went there, and so did Dougal.”
    I winced. He’d said that name once in front of her, but I didn’t think she’d noticed. “Dad,” I said.
    “Oh, for the love of God, Dougal, we gave you a good Irish name when you were a baby!”
    “And that’s why I changed it!”
    The corner of Julia’s mouth quirked up. “Dougal?” she asked.
    “Isn’t it a nice name?” Dad asked. “Reminds me of the open fields of Ireland.”
    I muttered, “The only open fields you’ve ever seen are the basketball courts.”
    “In my day, kids weren’t so damn disrespectful of their elders.” Dad looked irritated, but only barely so.
    “In your day Whitey Bulger was running Southie like his personal kingdom and burying bodies in backyards.”
    Dad just let out a grunt and took a sip of his coffee.