A Song for Julia

have to accept Crank being there, too. So breakfast was a little tense. But that was okay. Afterward, I walked to my car and drove to Jack’s.
    It was almost eleven A.M. when I pulled the rental car up behind the house and parked. It was cold outside, the sky a steel grey, a few snow flurries falling from the sky here and there, not enough to matter, especially given the mounds of snow piled up on the sides of the road by the plows from the weekend before.
    I got out of the car, being careful not to drag the hem of my dress in the crusted, week old snow, then reached in the car for the dessert I’d had delivered to the hotel that morning, a gluten-free cranberry coffee cake. I could tell I’d gain weight just from looking at it. And I wanted to look, a lot. It was a challenge finding it—I’d ended up talking to a specialty bakery in Brookline to get it made. But I wasn’t going to bring anything into the house that Sean couldn’t eat, if I could avoid it.
    I felt a twinge of anxiety as I reached the top step. I could hear shouting inside. It sounded like Sean and Jack.
    I sighed and closed my eyes. If Sean was having a meltdown, I needed to mentally prepare myself. I cared a great deal about Sean. But he was emotionally volatile, and I’ve spent my adult life avoiding emotionally volatile people and situations.
    It was hard not to second-guess myself. Was being involved with Crank, with this family, the right thing to do?
    Of course, it was a little late to be asking that question now, wasn’t it?
    I rapped on the door with my knuckles and waited, slightly hopping up and down on the balls of my feet to stay warm. My mother had looked disapprovingly at my boots this morning. She wasn’t a believer in wearing boots with a dress. She wasn’t a believer in much that I did.
    A very frazzled looking Crank, dressed in torn jeans and a ragged t-shirt, answered the door. His eyes brightened when he saw me. He ushered me in, a grin on his face. “I am so happy to see you. Don’t mind them,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the front of the house. I could hear Jack shouting something.
    “What’s going on?” I asked.
    Crank sighed. “Sean got in trouble in school yesterday morning, pretty big trouble.”
    I grimaced. “And they’re still fighting about it?” I asked.
    “My dad said something that set him off.”
    I sighed and followed Crank to the living room. “Can I put this in the fridge?” I asked.
    “I’ll take it,” he said. “Getting by them might be challenging.”
    I passed the cake to Crank and shrugged out of my coat, laying it on the back of a chair. A moment later he was back in the living room, and his eyes widened.
    “You look … lush. Almost edible.” His eyes swept up and down, like searchlights, and I suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. I was wearing a grey sleeveless dress, tight fitting in the bodice, with an ankle-length skirt. He approached, putting his hands on my waist. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”
    “Um … I’d like that,” I said in a small voice.
    He leaned his head close and nipped at my lower lip with a grin and then kissed me. My mouth opened, our tongues just touching.
    The front door slammed open, rattling the doorstop.
    “Mother of Christ, it’s cold out there!” shouted Tony as he entered. Crank and I separated, just slightly, and Tony shouted, “Don’t let me stop you two from smooching!”
    I laughed a little, and Crank and I leaned our foreheads together for just a second. Then I stepped back. “Tony, are you always this obnoxious?”
    “Only around beautiful women,” he said. “Why do you think I’m still single?”
    He wandered into the kitchen, chuckling. A moment later I heard Jack say, “Look, can you just drop it! Our guests are coming in.”
    Sean didn’t get a chance to answer, because Tony shouted, “Who you calling a guest?”
    A few seconds later, Sean came storming into the living room. He saw me and stopped.
    I smiled at him. “Hi Sean. I’d like to hug you, but you look so angry, you’re scaring me a little.”
    Sean’s face immediately went slack. His eyes pointed somewhere near the shelf as he said, “I’m sorry. Hi, Julia.”
    I walked forward and hugged him. “Happy Thanksgiving,” I said.
    “You too,” he said. He awkwardly grasped my shoulders then stepped back.
    “Are you okay?” I asked. “Crank said you ran into some trouble at school … if you want to talk, I’m here.”
    “I don’t