A Song for Julia

little.”
    We’d reached Central Square. I took a right and then drove slowly into the parking lot at the Metro. I took a deep breath and said, “So you want me to stay away. Not come to his birthday?”
    He shook his head. “I don’t know what I want, all right?”
    Well, that made two of us. I squeezed my hands on the steering wheel. “Well, maybe you need to figure that out. But don’t be an asshole while you do it. Because I didn’t do anything but be nice to you and your brother.”
    “Well, you did wreck my car.” As he said it, a grin appeared on his face.
    I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “All right. There is that. I promise I won’t do it again.”
    He opened the car door, started to get out, then paused and looked over at me. “All right. I’ll call and let you know what the damage is. And … do come Saturday. Sean will be upset if you don’t.”
    “I’ll be there,” I said.
    Without another word he got out, slammed the door of the car and walked away.
    Twenty minutes later, I had the car parked and leaned back in my seat for just a few seconds and closed my eyes. I was exhausted. It had been a long, late night after a long day on Friday. I’d hardly slept, and it had been an emotionally charged morning. I wanted to get back to my room and go to sleep for a couple hours before I went out with Barrett.
    Which I really didn’t want to do. I don’t know why I’d agreed to go out to dinner with him. A couple days ago it seemed like a good idea. Now I wasn’t so sure. But I’d committed, and he was going to show up at six o’clock, and I didn’t want to be a complete bitch and cancel. So there. Stuck.
    For just a second, I thought of taking the coward’s way out and canceling via text message. Then I realized I hadn’t touched my phone since … the accident? Oh, no. When I hit Crank’s car, I’d lost the phone. I frantically started looking, and there it was, in the back seat. I picked it up. Twelve missed calls.
    Oh, for God’s sake. Nine from my mother. Looked like she’d gotten over her aversion to cell phones. The other three were from Jemi. Now that was unusual. I selected her number and dialed.
    She answered immediately, her soft British accent sounding urgent. “Hello? Julia! Are you all right?”
    “Hey, Jemi … of course I’m okay, what’s wrong?”
    Silence for a few seconds, and then she said, “Um … you ran out of the Metro last night upset and didn’t come back to the room … and you weren’t answering your phone. I was worried. Where are you?”
    “Oh … I’m right across the street, I’ll be back at our room in a few minutes.”
    “I’m here. Your mother has called. A few times.”
    “Thanks,” I said.
    As I walked back to Cabot Hall, I realized I should have thought a little more. I wasn’t exactly the type to stay out all night and not answer calls. I wasn’t really the type to go out at all. And I knew my roommates had some kind of system worked out where they called each other, kept tabs on each other, if one was going to be out late. It was a safety thing, and smart, and had never really been necessary for me.
    God, I was exhausted. I trudged up the stairs to the third floor and down the hall to our suite. When I got there, Jemi was sitting on the couch, her feet up on the coffee table, a textbook in her lap. She looked up and gave me an uncertain smile.
    “Hey,” I said.
    She opened her mouth to speak, but the phone rang first. She gave an unhappy smile. “That will likely be your mother again.”
    “Sorry,” I muttered, then walked over to the phone and picked it up. It had a tiny piece of grass stuck to the cradle. Which meant one of my roommates had searched the yard, found the phone, and brought it up here. Oh, boy, there were going to be questions.
    “Hello?” I said.
    “Julia? Julia?” My mother said at a shout. I started to respond, but before I even had a chance, she said, “Can you hear me? Answer me!”
    “Yes, Mother.”
    “Where have you been?” she demanded. “I’ve been trying to reach you since last night.”
    “I stayed at a … friend’s house last night. I forgot my phone in the car.”
    “At a time like this? After the discussion we had last night?”
    “A time like what? And what exactly are you implying?”
    My mother’s voice dropped to a quiet, vicious tone, and she said, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, young lady. I raised you better than that.”
    I was very calm. Calmer than I