A Song for Julia

Get mad at your kid because he acts like an idiot? That I can see. But leave your husband because of your kid? I don’t buy it. There’s a lot more to that story.”
    I don’t know why this irritated me so much, but it did. I responded in an angry tone, “You sure do have an opinion about everything, don’t you? You meet my family twice, and you’ve got us all diagnosed.”
    She gave me a skeptical, irritated look. “Don’t be such an ass.”
    “It’s who I am,” I said, smug.
    “It’s your mask, maybe.”
    “What’s the difference?” I asked. “You wear a mask long enough, no one can tell the difference any more. Not even me.”
    “Not even for your friends? Your dad, or your brother?”
    I snorted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And what about you? What kind of mask do you wear?”
    “None of your damn business,” she said.
    “For someone with so many opinions about me, you sure are sensitive about yourself.”
    “I’m off limits.”
    Jesus Christ. Like I didn’t know that. She had to rub it in. Sarcastically, I replied, “I know. You already told my brother that.” She flinched a little at the bitterness of my tone.
    I was driving so fast, I went right by the exit for Cambridge.
    “That’s my exit,” she said.
    “I know.”
    She was silent for almost thirty seconds, which was a minor miracle. “So—are we not getting off the highway?”
    “Not there,” I replied. She was silent.
    Three minutes later, I got off at the next exit. A left turn would have taken me into Cambridge. I turned right, driving across Charlestown toward Route 1.
    A few moments later, she said, “I don’t recognize this.”
    “It’s Charlestown,” I replied.
    “Um …”
    “Just frickin' relax for a change, all right?”
    She stared at me and quietly said, “Just to make things very clear. In case you’re taking me off to the woods to kill me or something, I’ve taken self-defense classes, and I carry mace and a very sharp knife. And I wouldn’t hesitate to use either one.”
    Holy shit. “Did you just threaten me?” I asked. I could feel my face twisting into a grin.
    “Just making sure everything is clear.”
    “Good,” I said. “You’re not gonna need that shit. Not with me.”
    I took a left turn onto Route 1. Traffic wasn’t bad for a Saturday night, and a few minutes later, in the silent car, I saw the sign for Revere Beach.
    “Isn’t it a little cold for swimming?” she asked.
    I snorted. “Wasn’t planning on swimming.”
    “Then why are we here?”
    “You haven’t been to Revere Beach, have you?”
    “No,” she replied.
    “You’ve seriously lived in Boston, what, three years? And you haven’t been to Revere Beach?”
    “I live in Cambridge.”
    “Christ, whatever. Was coming to my dad’s house the first time you’ve ever left campus? Hanging out at Revere Beach is like a rite of passage here. Relax, you’ll enjoy this. Then I’ll take you home.”
    She looked over at me, her expression seeming to indicate that I was nuts. Which I will freely admit, I was. I glanced at her purse, which presumably contained the sharp knife. Wonder if she was telling the truth about that?
    “You’re aware that it’s something like 20 degrees outside?”
    “Oh, yeah? Good, the ocean won’t be frozen.”
    She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms across her chest, and then looked out the window. But the thing is, my brother has Asperger’s. I’m used to people looking away from me.
    So I drove, while she ignored me, and a little while later I was threading my way down Revere Beach Boulevard. On our left were houses, occasional businesses and bars, and further down, larger buildings. On our right, the wall, about three feet high, and beyond it, the ocean. Even in the cold, there were occasional groupings of teenagers and college students hanging out, mostly sitting on the wall. No alcohol visible, but it was almost certainly there somewhere.
    I parallel parked on the beach side of the road and turned off the engine. Julia still wasn’t talking or looking at me.
    “Come on. You’ll thank me later.”
    Without a word, she opened the car door and stepped out.
    I caught my breath when I got out of the car. A biting, icy cold wind was blowing in off the ocean. If Julia didn’t kill me first, that wind would. I zipped my jacket up all the way and turned up the collar, and jammed my hands deep in the pockets. Julia wrapped her scarf around her neck, and walked toward the