 
### Captured Words and Deeds

### By Kathleen Christopher

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 by Kathleen Christopher

Cover design by P. and K. Christopher

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. It is the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this novel, please encourage your friends to download their own copies at Smashwords.com. Thanks for your support.

This is a work of fiction. Names and characters, incidents and places, are either products of the author's imagination, or are used in a purely fictitious manner.

This novel is respectfully dedicated to the following independent authors for inspiration and darn fine reads: Dianne Gray, Heather Domin, Gary Weston, Kevin Kato, Suzy Stewart Dubot, Barnaby Wilde, David Keith, Elizabeth Rowan Keith, Jeffra Hays, Julie K. Rose, and Kate Krake.

Special thanks to my dearheart KAK, for crossed eyes and dotted tees.
**Table of Contents**

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17
Chapter 1

She walked with a small slide to her step, the small duffel weighing down her shoulder. Her light brown hair blew in the soft breeze, but she seemed bothered by it, as if normally it was held by a ponytail or clip. She looked trapped, Phil thought, bound by wayward tresses and a cumbersome bag.

She also looked his age, maybe nineteen, probably twenty. At the bus station, they weren't the youngest, but certainly they stood out, she with that untamed hair, he with the guitar. The case was old, but inside it rested Phil's most prized possession; he wondered if in her bag that girl had anything of similar value. He stared at her, then glanced away, his eyes darting back and forth until she found his gaze. Her curious smile was worth all of his attempts.

Still she said nothing, shifting in her white Keds sneakers, colored marks along the heels. Phil stared at the names scrawled on her shoes: _Liz_ and _Diane_. Was she Elizabeth Diane or Diane Elizabeth, or maybe they were friends who in haste had tattooed themselves into her footwear so she wouldn't forget them. Phil was dying to know, but remained standing, the station growing more crowded.

A variety of people were waiting to leave Los Angeles, young, old, middle-aged. Some were white, some were black, some were Hispanic. Some were couples, a few families, but most were single persons carrying a parcel or suitcase. Phil had his guitar and an old, stuffed backpack. He was heading east, to Ohio, where his grandparents lived. He wondered where that young woman was going.

Maybe he would sit next to her; maybe they could spend some of the trip talking. Phil liked to talk; his grandmother complained that the answering machine he bought them at Christmas was too complicated, that she never listened to most of his messages. After she told him that, he deliberately left longer and longer diatribes, usually about nothing of interest. They didn't criticize his words, only that the technology was too difficult. Still Phil continued to leave messages; he loved leaving messages, wondered if that meant something. Probably, he accepted, again caught watching that girl.

She didn't look like a Liz or a Diane, more like a... Sonia or Sophia, something ending in _ia_ , slightly mysterious but not complicated. Was it her blondish hair, could blondes be puzzling, unique? She didn't look dumb, but then she wasn't actually blonde; light brown hair with a few sun streaks, Southern California weather in early May already like summer had been around forever. Phil wasn't fond of Los Angeles, but so far it hadn't been horrible, and depending on how things ended up, maybe he would return. He laughed, looking at his guitar. He hoped to come back here, but not necessarily on a Greyhound bus.

He stared at the clock, another ten minutes to wait. Then he would load his guitar, although he hated thinking of it crammed in the belly of the vehicle. There was no room in the bus proper, and so far his travels hadn't harmed it any. Yet every time he fretted, wishing at those moments he played the flute or other small instrument. Then he smiled; he couldn't imagine playing anything but his father's guitar. Most of those with whom he worked thought him crazy to use Stan's pride and joy, but Phil did it because it would be a crime not to. And it was the only guitar he owned.

The girl began tapping her foot. Phil was mesmerized by her small shoe hitting the tile as if in rhythm to some silent bass line. Was she a musician? Maybe she played the flute, and he chuckled, then cleared his throat, staring at the floor. The tapping ceased, then steps came his way. Then someone cleared their throat. "Hey, you play that thing?"

Her voice was rich and aware, contrasting with the airhead ideal her long hair offered. "What?" he asked.

"That, the guitar. You play it?"

Her eyes were dull blue, nearly gray. Yet her deep voice hit Phil in a place forgotten, like his mother was calling. "Uh, yeah, I do. Do you?"

She laughed. "No, not me." She looked around. "You heading east?"

The bus would take passengers as far as New York State and Phil smiled. "To Ohio. You?"

She sighed. "Hafta go see my grandparents. God, I hate that. They're in Florida, but I'm taking a long-cut."

She began tapping her sneaker again and Phil smiled. "I'm going to see my grandparents too. They, uh, raised me, not so bad."

Then he smiled. They had raised him and he wasn't so bad, but that hadn't been his meaning. "I'm Phil," he said, offering his hand. "Phil uh..."

"Julia. Julia Penn."

"Gideon. Phil Gideon."

She stared at him, then the guitar. Then she smiled. "As in Stan Gideon?"

"Yeah. That's my dad."

She giggled, then touched the guitar case. "This his?"

"Yup." Phil breathed with ease, as if maybe someone understood.

"Can I see it?"

"Sure." He opened the case, the guitar ancient but preserved. Whenever Phil touched the strings, he wondered how his father might have done the same, or was their playing style different? Men who had known Stan didn't remember, a piece of history lost to time.

Gently Julia touched the neck of the guitar. "That's incredible, I mean, that you have it." She stared at him. "And you take it with you?"

"I couldn't bear to leave it in Columbus."

She nodded. Then she removed her duffel. As she went to open it, a bus pulled into the station, their bus. Phil closed the guitar case, but Julia hesitated. Then she zipped closed her bag, swinging it back over her shoulder.

"So, Florida huh." Phil cleared his throat again as Julia pulled her hair into a thick cord.

"Yeah, once a year whether I need it or not. I hate going there, same crap all the time."

"Where do you live otherwise?" he asked, as they headed for the growing line.

"Well, my parents live in the Bay Area. I was here with friends. What's worse is that Florida in summer just sucks. Too humid, you know?"

He looked at her shoes. "Liz and Diane, they the gals you were staying with?"

She smiled, then stared at her feet. "No, my sisters. They always write their names on my shoes. God, like they think I'm gonna forget about them."

"Little sisters, I assume?"

"Yeah, half really, but who cares, other than my grandparents."

"Your mother's parents?" he asked, feeling an ache as luggage was loaded into the compartment.

"Yeah, oh God, it's a mess." They had reached the bus, and Julia set her bag into the open space. Then she looked at him. "So, you gonna put that in there?"

He nodded but his stomach twisted. "Yeah, I just feel like I'm gonna throw up every time I do."

"You want me to?"

So deep was her voice, as if she knew the exact worth of that guitar. All of Phil's life, and all that remained of his father, rested in that case, like Phil carted his dead dad everywhere. He did, wouldn't deny it, but in truth it was just a guitar, all that others saw.

With utmost care, Julia set the guitar case atop her bag, then arranged another soft-looking duffel aside their luggage. "It'll be fine here." Her tone was reassuring. "I overheard the woman who had that bag. She's heading to New York, so you'll be getting off before she does."

"Thank you," Phil said, feeling as if his grandmother stood beside him.

Julia grasped his hand, then squeezed. "Phil," she laughed. "Let's get us some seats."

Julia never went by _Julie_ unless her father was very angry with her. Julia Rose Penn was twenty years old, having turned that age in February. Now in May of 1980, she was on her way, long and circuitous, to Tampa Bay, Florida, to spend the summer with her maternal grandparents. She wished to be heading anywhere else in the world, even a gulag would be better than Florida, but Julia would swallow her distaste and endure weeks of sultry weather, which wasn't the worst of her travails. The worst, she told Phil, was how much her grandparents hated her father, and how they never let Julia forget it.

"Why do you go?" Phil sat beside her in the middle section of the bus. She sat next to the window, and spent a good deal of time staring out of it.

"If I don't, they'll just call the house and hound my mom. Lee, my step-mom."

"You've been calling her _Mom_ all this time."

"I know. I do it whenever I'm talking about my parents."

Phil smiled. "Do you do it around your grandparents?"

"Oh hell no! Around them Mom is my real mom, their daughter." Julia sighed, then looked at Phil. "You ever hear of Laura Riley?"

He nodded. "She was a writer. That's your mom?"

"Yup. Funny huh, we've both got dead, famous parents."

"Wow, yeah, funny." Phil looked toward the window.

"Yeah, funny. Grandma and Grandpa think Dad killed her. That's not so funny."

"Shit, no way!"

"Uh-huh. I've been hearing that crap since, God, as long as I can remember."

Phil stared at the landscape, flat earth that held no color. He thought about his guitar, cradled between Julia's bag and some woman headed for New York. Then he considered his mother. Then he looked at Julia.

Did she look like her mom? Phil had his mother's dark hair, but Stan's green eyes. Phil looked nothing like his dad except for those bright emerald irises, which was probably all the resemblance necessary. His face was oval, where Stan's had been nearly square, so many pictures taken of a man destined for such a limited lifespan. Phil had memorized his father's appearance, but it hadn't translated into a son becoming any more talented on guitar. Nor had it meant anything to recording studios or music executives. Phil possessed an illustrious name and those blazing green eyes. So far, those added to squat when it came to the music business.

"Was your mom a blonde?" he asked, looking away from the window.

"Yeah, I guess. She was fair, so's my grandma, her mom. My dad's strawberry blonde."

"And your sisters?" Phil didn't call them half, that seemed rude.

"Liz's a redhead and Diane's got really dark brown hair. We don't look anything alike, like Mom and Dad adopted all three of us." Julia laughed, then fell silent.

Phil nodded, then stared toward the front of the bus. Columbus, Ohio was three days away, and his guitar would be okay. "Hey, you were gonna show me something." He tried to remind himself that others had treasures in the hold, he wasn't the only one with something precious. "What were you gonna show me?"

"Oh, it's nothing."

"Oh, okay." Phil sighed, then folded his hands. His fingers felt achy from not enough playing time, and now for days they would sit idle. Then Julia grasped his right hand.

"Can I stay with you, I mean, for a few days?"

Her grip was warm and soft, making Phil shift in his seat. "Uh, sure." He smiled. "You really don't wanna go to Florida, do you?"

She shook her head.

Phil nodded, then put his arm around her. As if they had known each other for ages, Julia Penn settled against Phil Gideon. He closed his eyes. She wasn't a guitar, but for the next few days, this would suffice.

" _Hey Grandma, it's me, Phil." A small laugh. "Like anyone else would use this machine, does anyone else ever leave messages? Maybe I'm the only one who calls when you're gone. Anyways, I'm in, uh, where are we? Oh yeah, Nebraska. We're in Nebraska, and I met someone, you won't even guess who." Another small laugh. "Well, okay, you're not gonna guess. Mom would've loved it though. Look on the bookshelf for any books by Laura Riley. I think Mom had one or two of her novels. Well, standing in the LA bus station I met her daughter! Who'd have guessed? Her name's Julia and she's heading to Florida and uh, well, it's a long trip, you know? Anyways, I, uh, asked if she wanted to crash with us for a day or two, you know, just to get some sleep and a shower. If it's not too much trouble, I mean, anyways, I'll let you and Grandpa sort it out. So yeah, we'll be there in another what, day and a half you think?" A short pause. "Yeah, a day and a half. Guitar's fine, I know you were probably worried about that." A long chuckle. "Anyways, I really hope you listen to this 'cause if you don't, you won't know about Julia. Don't forget to look and see if those books are there, Laura Riley. I'm pretty sure I remember them. Okay, well, I love you. See you in thirty-six hours!"_

Back on the bus, Phil and Julia sat as best friends, or maybe old lovers. Phil wasn't sure, and wasn't going to ask. They had shared secrets and trivial details, so much time in close quarters, so many similarities between them.

He wasn't quite four months older than her, born in October of 1959, right before his father's death. Neither mentioned more than that, but Phil wasn't bothered. Stan wasn't the only early rock and roller to die tragically. He hadn't been in the plane crash killing Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and J. P. 'The Big Bopper' Richardson, but Stan Gideon's demise later that year closed the chapter where rock and roll was just finding its feet. Those four deaths within eleven months arguably altered what might have occurred, especially for Holly and Gideon. What those two men might have achieved was often debated, but Phil didn't consider it much. Only six weeks old when his father died, he had no conscious memory of Stan, just the images. Like Buddy Holly, all that remained of Stan Gideon were the music and photographic evidence.

Tunes and snapshots and one young man, Philip Everly Gideon, who looked nothing like his dad, or the musician for whom he was named. Stan had insisted his son carried Phil Everly's moniker. Occasionally Phil wondered if Stan had stuck around, maybe another boy born to him and Phil's mother Jo-Jo would have been named for Phil's brother Don. But Stan had died, and Jo-Jo never remarried. Phil assumed his mother wouldn't have continued to honor her late husband's contemporaries, but she wasn't around for him to ask. Phil pondered those notions while watching Julia scribble in a notebook. She was making him consider these issues, and he smiled.

Was she a writer like her mother? Was that fiction, a travelogue, or just a place to rant about her grandparents? Depending on how things went once they reached Columbus, perhaps she wouldn't continue her journey; Phil couldn't stop thinking what she might look like naked. She owned a medium bust, was of average height, but that wasn't what drove his desires. Finally he had found someone who comprehended why he carted that guitar all over, why making music was so important. It wasn't that he wanted to be his dad, there was only one Stan Gideon, and Phil wasn't even sure if his father would have remained popular. The Beatles had been waiting, along with The Rolling Stones, The Who, and The Kinks, an English invasion biding their time, inspired by Stan Gideon and Buddy Holly, but leaps beyond where rock music then stood. The Everly Brothers didn't last much past the early sixties, and at times Phil permitted that perhaps his father departed at a good time, for his career. Phil had never said that to anyone, although he had alluded to it with Julia. He'd mentioned that, but not his desire to sleep with her.

They wouldn't be able to do it at his grandparents' house, but he had friends in Columbus, and in any of those domiciles Phil could find a moment, an hour. He ached, then adjusted himself, observing how Julia's small hands gripped her book and the pen. She agonized over each word; was she a poet? She tried to set something down, then she looked at him, her eyes teary.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, wiping her cheeks.

"I hate this, you know?"

"Uh..."

She smiled. "I hate writing, but I can't stop. You feel that way about music?"

"No, not really." He felt that way about the music business, but not about his guitar.

"I've been writing since I can remember. I never even knew that my mom, my real mom, was a writer until I was nine or ten. Grandma told me, got all huffy about it, like Dad was trying to keep that from me. But Mom's books aren't for kids, my God! I didn't even read them until I was fourteen."

Phil had never read any of Laura Riley's novels, but his mother had. "How many did she write in all?"

"Five. Three were published, the other two Grandma says were just for practice."

"Who owns the rights?"

Julia smiled. "I will, in a couple of years. Right now Dad does, which pisses Grandma off even more, oh my God." She set the pen in the book, then closed it, placing it in her lap. "They were separated, well, he was sleeping with Lee, with my mom. But it was just an accident." Julia sighed, then reached for Phil's hand. "Oh I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. Sometimes death just happens."

"No, I mean..." She gripped his hand, their fingers entwined. "Phil..."

He nodded as she leaned into him. Her left hand still clutched his, but her right grasped the notebook.

They slept against each other, ignoring the need for showers. By the time they crossed the Ohio state line, Phil desired space, but he didn't get it, and his frustration felt overwhelming. Instead he spoke about trying to break into the music business, a futile endeavor. He had spent all spring in LA hustling his demo tape, and while his name cracked open a few doors, no one showed particular interest. Going back to Ohio wasn't all in defeat he admitted; no one made it on their first try.

"Like a novelist," Julia giggled. "My mom wrote three before getting one published."

"I'll have to read the ones my mom had," Phil said. He could smell them both, bodies in need of cleansing, but still Julia carried something pleasant, or maybe he was so horny it wouldn't have mattered if dog shit stuck to her sneakers. He would read Laura Riley's books; if for some reason no copies waited at his grandparents, Phil would go to the library, a bookstore even. He needed to read what Julia's mother had written, but not before he made love to Julia.

That was first, after a shower and some sleep. It would be fitful rest, but Phil wasn't worried. Julia seemed to need the same, a bath, slumber, sex. Then maybe she would stick around, but even if she didn't, Phil would always remember this long but significant trek across America that brought to his attention someone akin. In all his admittedly short life, Phil Gideon had never found anyone who understood. Either someone's parents were only dead or just famous, but not both. In Julia Penn, everything fit at the appropriate corners, dark and unpleasant, but correct. If nothing else, she met the criteria.

Maybe her father was still alive, but those grandparents in Florida certainly wished otherwise. Phil would try to learn as much as he could about Laura Riley, and her death, adding those facts alongside Julia's allowances. Phil was used to that, the details of his father's demise well documented, but still people asked him, like he'd been there or as if all his mother recalled had been implanted in Phil's brain. But they had rarely spoken of Stan; Jo-Jo hadn't been able to broach his name.

Julia said Laura wasn't a fixture in her life, not unless she was staying with her grandparents, for Julia had her father, step-mother, and two younger sisters. Only her maternal grandparents made the distinction of where Julia's loyalties should lie, not in Northern California, but in some murky, dismal memory that was fallacy. Their fantasy, Julia sighed, as their arrival in Columbus loomed. Her grandparents were convinced that her dad had engineered Laura's death, over which Julia shook her head. They were old, unable to change their minds. In their seventies, all they possessed was one grandchild, and Julia hefted the weight of their accusations with disdain. Yet, she would set it aside for a few days in Ohio. In Ohio, Julia laughed, her grandparents were nowhere near.

Which was fine with Phil. He wasn't sure if his grandparents would be waiting for them, or even if they had listened to his message. He had left another, brief and simple, when they stopped last night, and he hoped one of the two had reached his grandmother's hearing, for it would be Helen Reese to make up the spare bed, one that Phil used when home. He would take the sofa, giving Julia that space, the chivalrous thing to do.

That might be Phil's only gallant moment, sensing more than his own desires. Julia pressed against him, and he was certain it would only be a matter of time. As the bus parked near the building, they stood, and he peered out, but didn't see his grandparents. That was okay, he could call a friend. Someone had to be around, and Phil might even give a knowing wink, arranging a future afternoon or evening to drop his gentlemanly cloak. He was twenty years old for God's sake, and three days beside this woman was making his skin crawl.

They got off the bus, grabbed their luggage, the guitar nestled just as Julia had placed it. He gripped her duffel, over which she protested for seconds. Phil needed the distraction, and her bag wasn't heavy. As they stepped inside the station, he saw his grandparents. They were eager, but not surprised, and he smiled. One of them had checked the machine.

"Oh Phil!" his grandmother sighed, as his grandfather took the guitar.

"Hey, you made it." He kissed her, then smiled. "You get my messages?"

"Oh yes." Helen Reese looked at Julia. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've read your mother's novels, what a talent."

"Thanks." Julia smiled, but it was forced.

"So, how was the trip?" Daniel Reese took Phil's backpack, as Phil still carried Julia's bag.

"Long. Anything to eat at home?"

"Of course. She's been cooking since you called from Nebraska."

"I have not." Helen tapped her husband's shoulder. "Just the usual. Tonight I'll make up the sofa for you Phil. Julia, you can have the guest room."

"Thank you so much."

"Oh, it's our pleasure. Now tell us what happened in California."

Phil looked at Julia, her smile eased. "Well Grandma, you know how it goes..." Phil's tone was conciliatory, their faces the same. But Julia lit from his stories, which caused him physical angst. Yet better for him to ache over her than for Julia to endure his grandmother's good intentions.

While Julia showered, Phil caught up with his grandparents, sharing the bits of Julia he knew she wouldn't mind; that she wasn't looking forward to spending time with her maternal ancestors, over which Helen and Daniel both clucked. "Well, she can stay here if she likes," Helen said.

Phil nodded. "We'll see. Did you find her mom's books?"

Daniel smiled. "She nearly tore the house apart looking for them."

"I did not. I just had to look around a little. Two of them, but I didn't put them in her room, you know." Helen looked toward the back of the house. "Just left them in the bookcase. My goodness but Joanna loved those novels."

Phil smiled. His grandparents never referred to their daughter by her nickname, but they spoke of her without sadness. As they gripped cups of decaf coffee, Phil could see his mother in Helen's small eyes and warm smile. Her smile was from his presence, and from a reference to her child. Books read recalled memories, as if Jo-Jo stood beside them.

Phil only thought of his mother by her first name. His dad was the same, Stan and Jo-Jo, as if they were someone else's parents. Maybe they were; they were dead, he had been an orphan since he was twelve, living in this house all his life. This couple was more like his parents, but he called them Grandma and Grandpa, great love spoken in those terms. Phil had a mix of parents, the ghosts and these actual beings. Did Julia feel that way?

Was her step-mother like her real mom? She called Liz and Diane her _sisters_ , not half, yet their names adorned her shoes, as if she might forget them. Perhaps those names were a slap to those grandparents in Florida. That old couple considered Julia solo, and Phil swallowed the rest of his coffee, staring at seniors who held no animosity toward his dad. Phil had never heard a cross word pass their lips in conjunction to Stan Gideon, although it certainly could have been permissible.

But there was no unpleasantness, also no reminders. Stan had been their son-in-law a paltry few months. All of his memorabilia was stored in the garage, possessions waiting for Phil to get his act together. When he had a place of his own, those items would leave this abode, not just the guitar. Stan's parents had died years ago, not too many after their only son. There were plenty of only children in Phil's realm, but Julia adored her little sisters. Her grandparents might hate their guts, but Julia didn't.

Phil heard her leave the bathroom, and thinking of her in some partially clothed state again made him wince. "I think I'll get a shower." He stood, taking his coffee cup to the sink. Usually he would kiss his grandmother, but she had noted his fragrant state, only his courtesy to let Julia bathe first.

"Go on," Helen giggled. "You stink."

"Thanks Grandma. I love you too." Their laughter followed Phil as he left the kitchen.

His bag rested at the foot of the sofa, the rest of his clothes in the spare room, but that door was closed. He had rescued clean duds before Julia took her shower, and gathering that pile, he announced he was next. She answered, and he flinched, then ran cool water, trying to think about music, his dead father, anything to discourage his longings. Maybe he would sneak into the spare room that night, his grandparents' hearing not what it used to be. That their room was down the hall aided Phil's plan, and he toweled off thinking about Julia, then about her miserable grandparents. Only they eased his erection.

Both young people were starving, so dinner was eaten early. No reference was made to Laura Riley, but Joanna Gideon was mentioned, and Phil's grandparents didn't bat an eye. It would be eight years next month, Phil considered, as Helen casually spoke of her late daughter. Daniel noted how pleased Joanna would be for Phil to get to California; they never said Los Angeles, as if that city encompassed the entire state. All there was to the west was California, but Julia spoke of her family in Oakland.

"Oh, that's interesting," Helen said. "What does your father do?"

Julia laughed. "He's a white cop in a largely black city, puts shoes on our feet."

"Oh," Helen said.

"Uh-huh," Daniel added.

Phil smiled; their neighborhood was mostly white. The city as a whole was somewhat diverse, but not as varied as Julia's hometown, or where she was raised. She was born in Chicago, also her mother's birthplace. Her grandparents had moved to Florida when Julia was young, and she didn't recall living in the Midwest, where she had dwelled until her mother's death. Julia was two and a half when Laura died, her father moving far from Illinois and his late wife's incensed parents.

Those parents were so different from who had raised Phil, grandparents not intent on ruining a child's memory. Julia called her step-mother _Mom_ because she was the only woman Julia knew as her mother. Yes, her father had been cheating on Laura, and yes, Lee Dale had been pregnant when Laura died. Those details eased Phil's desires. He didn't actually wish to think of all that history, but better to remind himself of Julia's baggage than think of only Julia.

He excused himself to the bathroom, then emerged finding Julia and his grandparents on the sofa. Julia sat in the middle, seemed more relaxed. They spoke of Oakland, Tampa Bay, and Columbus, but not people. Phil smiled, then plopped into the recliner. "So, covering a lot of ground, it sounds like."

"Phil did you go to Oakland when you were in California?"

"No Grandma. Just LA."

"Well, it sounds like a nice place to visit. Julia's been telling us all about it."

He nodded, then grinned at the young woman sitting right where he would be lying in a few hours. Maybe the sofa wouldn't smell of old people, maybe it would carry her youth. "Well, Sly Stone's from Oakland, I think."

"Yeah, his whole family's from there," Julia said.

"Well, maybe that's where I should go next. No one in LA gives a damn about my music."

"Philip..."

Julia giggled at Helen's admonition.

"Grandma, I apologize. Chalk it up to exhaustion." And stress and lust. Phil would sleep with Julia that night, unless she was too wiped out.

Then he chuckled. "Listen, I gotta run out for a minute. Julia, wanna quick tour of the neighborhood?"

"Uh, sure." She smiled, then stood. "Do I need a jacket?"

"Nah, it won't take long."

"Philip, what now?"

"Gotta get some pop. No one bought any Pepsi."

"I told you Helen," Daniel chided.

"Oh goodness! Well, all right." Helen went to the kitchen, bringing back her purse. She gave Phil some money, and while he tried to refuse, a five-dollar bill was thrust into his hand. "Phil just loves Pepsi. Joanna did too. But don't be long. You both look about to fall over."

Phil stuck the money in his pocket, then he grasped Julia's hand. "Grandma, I assure you, we'll be right back."

"They're nice," Julia said, getting into the red Ford Pinto parked in front of the house. "God, I wish my grandparents were like that."

Phil nodded as the car started; it was Phil's when he was home. Within minutes he reached the main drag, heading toward a convenience store. Stopping in front of a small shop, he would pick up a six-pack of soda. Also some Trojans, a box of three. He didn't want to appear that desperate.

"So, Pepsi huh?" Julia grinned.

Her hand landed near his leg, but not on him. Phil stifled a groan. "Listen, I wanna get something other than pop."

"Yeah? I don't think they sell pot."

He stared at her. Drugs hadn't made it into any of their conversations. "Uh, no, I don't need any weed." Did she smoke, he wondered.

"I don't either. It was just a joke. What else Phil?"

"Uh, well..."

"Oh." She looked to the floor. "Uh, Phil, I, uh..."

"Oh Christ."

They sat in silence as people went in and out, carrying milk and beer, pop and slushies. Then Julia cleared her throat. "Uh Phil, it's not that I don't like you, I mean..."

"No, it's okay. You, uh, don't have to say anything. I'm sorry."

"Phil, I do like you. A lot. I really mean that."

He stared at the front of the store. "Julia, it's, uh, okay, really."

She grasped his hand, which stirred a sharp pain through him. But as she squeezed, the ache subsided, then was replaced by something gentle, not sexual. Warm, friendly, and lasting and Phil glanced at her, finding tears along her cheeks. "Oh shit Julia, Christ! I'm sorry, really, I didn't mean to screw it up."

"Phil, I really do like you. And I mean, yeah, we could sleep together, it's not that I don't wanna have sex with you. But if we do, oh God, the rest of this'll be all shot to hell."

The warmth she offered was so peaceful, as if his mother was alive, even his dad. Yet it was only this young woman, her streaked face and all their words. Many similarities bound them and Phil reached over the gear box, taking her in his arms. Desire remained, he didn't dismiss that, but something deeper invaded as she wrapped around him. She was like a sibling bound by fame and art and brevity. They had celebrities for parents, but people not destined for long lives. Their lives weren't easy, yet they had managed to eke by, he with Helen and Daniel, she with her father, stepmother, and two sisters. As Julia pulled away, Phil saw release on her face better than sex, and he smiled. "I guess we're just meant to be friends."

She giggled. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Probably. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel differently."

"Maybe I will too."

They laughed as he kissed her cheek, which was still wet. Her tears stuck to his lips like a tattoo. "Julia..."

"What Phil?"

"I, uh, thanks."

"For what?"

"For turning me down."

"Oh God, well, sure Phil, anytime."

"No, I mean it." He traced her fingers. Something rested in her digits, a book he was certain, over which she battled, but as he well knew, that gift was inborn, which neither of them could fight. He had never tried to, probably suffered from wanting so much to make music. She ached from words that lingered in those fingers, words her mother hadn't lived to pass along in any good way. Instead they had been inherited, with no direction offered to a little girl who had a mother, but not the one who could translate what Laura had bequeathed to Julia. Lee had cooked and cleaned, hugged and kissed. But Phil recognized the other side, and he set his hand along Julia's, encompassing her fingers. "It's better this way. Not easier," he laughed. "But I need a friend more than someone in bed."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. I just ask one thing."

"What's that?"

"Do your parents have an answering machine?"

"No."

"Well, can they get one? I mean, would they mind having one?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

Phil released her fingers, then set his palm along her face. "Because I love to leave messages. I love to talk on the phone too, but messages are great, I mean, I guess I just like to talk."

"Or leave pieces of yourself behind."

He nodded. He still wanted her, but this would be better. Phil desired a long run with her, wasn't sure why, other than she understood. "Yeah, maybe I just want my voice to be heard."

"And if not on a record, then on someone's answering machine."

"Yeah, sure. We'll go with that."

"My grandparents have one," she said, not moving from his grasp.

"Will they mind if I use it?"

"Not if you're paying for the call."

He laughed. "Well okay. Expect a lot of messages while you're in Florida."

"Can't I stay here with all of you?"

Phil smiled, then leaned toward her. He kissed her, not innocently. "Julia, if you stay here, I'll lose my mind."

She traced his temples, then stopped, leaving her fingers right at the sides of his head. "I don't want that Phil."

Where her digits lay were significant, but neither spoke to the meaning. Instead he nodded, then kissed her again, just on her lips, which were warm, soft, and healing. Then Phil fell into her arms, sobbing as if she was his mother, telling him just how his father had died.
Chapter 2

" _Hey, it's me. God, I hate LA, man, no fucking weather, just a hole. Hey, I'm sorry, you know, really. I got your letter, Jesus Julia! Listen, you gotta get here, I, uh, really need you." Small laughter. "Hey listen, just leave them. You don't need that shit." More chuckles. "Do they ever check this thing? Maybe by now they know better. Honey, I mean it. Get your ass on a plane. I'll wire you the money, nothing like getting royalties. All those years I had no idea how much was there, like turning twenty-two and the heavens descended." Phil cleared his throat. "Honey, I mean it. Get out of there. They're gonna drive you crazy. That's all they want, you know, they want you loony, the only way they think they can get back at..."_ **Click**

" _Damnit! I fucking hate it when the goddamn machine hangs up. I think they must listen to these, I know I used to be able to ramble for ages. Maybe they changed it from four minutes to one. God, Julia, shit. You need to leave, just leave. I need to tell you something. Shit. Last night I went through the box. Sometimes I just need you and you're not here, so I went through it. Honey, she loved you so much, and they don't give one goddamn shit for you. If they did, they wouldn't be this way. It's been over, shit, twenty years now, and you know they're never gonna let it go. Honey, you need to cut the strings. Everything in that box, God Julia, I just need to tell you, I think I need to remind you. Or maybe remind me. Grandma still has some of Jo-Jo's stuff, maybe she has something just like your box. Maybe when I get married someday..." Another long laugh. "Maybe Grandma will part with it. Funny now that I live here, all of Dad's stuff's in the bedroom. The guest room Julia, your room. Honey, get your ass on a plane before I come out there and knock some..."_ **Click**

After listening to Phil's message, Julia erased the tape. She wasn't sure if her grandmother ever noted Phil's tirades, but they did Julia the world of good. Not that she would leave Florida any sooner than her return ticket stated, but at least she wasn't completely alone.

Without her keepsake box, she did feel somewhat bereft, but it was safe with Phil, in his detested LA, and Julia smiled, stepping into her sandals. The house was empty and airless, as if to breathe she would inhale animosity on a scale to knock over a city. If not for her grandfather's bad heart, Julia wouldn't even be on the East Coast. She would be in California, maybe with Phil or at home in Oakland. Instead she stared at low ceilings, bad artwork, and ancient furniture, the same pieces her mother had romped on. Claire and Arthur Riley never threw anything away, especially nothing their precious daughter had touched. The rickety couch was covered in plastic; was it the same plastic as when Julia had been little, flying here escorted by kind stewardesses, for her parents weren't allowed. Claire Riley had refused their presence, even on the plane. Julia ran fingers over the cracked cover, hard to the touch, an unbending shell. She smiled, unable to hold it in. If either Claire or Arthur ever listened to Phil's messages, they wouldn't want him in this state either.

She sat on the sofa. It sagged, and the cold plastic stuck to her legs. Why wasn't she on a plane to California, why was she at all obliged to these people? Would her mother have approved? Julia set her face in her hands, but didn't cry. She wouldn't fall victim to Claire's trap; every time Julia went to leave, Claire set her face in frail, shaking hands that then felt wrapped around Julia's neck. Arthur would clear his throat, the phlegm thick, sounding wretched. Misery draped this place like the permanent sofa coverings, and Julia tried to move, but plastic clung to her skin, would probably rip it off if she attempted to flee. Then she laughed, wishing she hadn't erased Phil's message. If she listened to him once more, she would get off her ass and blow this joint. She didn't need guilt laid so thickly that she couldn't inhale. The last time she visited, Claire had rummaged through the box, reminding Julia in slow, halting tones the significance of each bauble, as if Laura's remains lay in the cigar case, held together by tape and Julia's bloodstream. But Claire's hands upon Laura's trinkets had altered everything. Since then, the box stayed at Phil's.

It lived in Phil's back bedroom alongside Stan's love letters to Jo-Jo, old guitar picks, and music sheets that sported only lyrics; Stan never could read music. Julia knew the contents of Stan's boxes as well as she knew her own heart, which also rested in Los Angeles in Phil's extra bedroom. All she had to do was move from the covered sofa in Tampa, Florida.

She cried, then pried herself from the couch. If she picked up the phone, they would know, and she hated feeling so trapped, like Laura's accident was embedded within Julia's subconscious. Instead Julia found her purse, grabbing her cigarettes and lighter. She left no note. If her grandparents returned, wondering where she was, Julia didn't care.

She wandered down a long, wide stretch of highway, retail lining both sides of the road. If she walked far enough she would reach the Gulf of Mexico. She would have to cross the highway, but in the daylight it was safe enough. Julia waited for a break in the traffic, then darted across, catching her breath on the other side. Since she had started smoking, her lungs balked at that sort of activity. It made her grandparents even more wary, half the reason she took it up in the first place. Phil hated it, Helen and Daniel tolerated it, but she never smoked in their houses, or at her parents. Only in Florida did she inhale within walls, even with Arthur's heart condition. Claire never chided Julia, maybe it was the concession. If they were going to make her life hell, smoking was permitted. Maybe they were just trying to kill her; they had never actually hated Julia's father or stepmother or half-sisters. Claire and Arthur Riley despised Julia Rose Penn, their only descendant. Julia breathed in as best she could, lung capacity already compromised. Then she blinked away tears. Throwing the cigarette on the ground, she crushed it with her sandal.

Three cigarettes remained in Julia's back pocket, but they were being squashed as she sat on the sand, watching the water pool at the tiny inlet where children gathered and old people absorbed the rays. Young mothers tended to either their offspring or their grandparents, but Julia had never been here with Claire and Arthur. They thought it was tacky, wouldn't dream of spending an afternoon at this small but safe section of the coast. Julia came here alone when she was twelve, after a horrendous argument with Claire about Lee. Julia had slipped, calling Lee _Mom_ , and the fallout had rattled that entire summer, the same year that in faraway Columbus, twelve and a half year old Phil Gideon lost his mother.

That year Julia realized the extent of Claire and Arthur's animosity not only toward her dad, but aimed at the rest of the Penns. Charles 'Chuck' Penn had cheated on Claire and Arthur's daughter, but it wasn't Lee's fault that Laura was killed. Nor was it Liz and Diane's fault; Liz had already been conceived when Laura was struck by a car, but... Julia smiled, wiping tears. What difference did it make now? She dug her toes into the sand. Her mother, Phil's too, were killed in car accidents, nothing malicious or plotted, just fucking accidents! Julia needed to talk to Phil; she needed to get out of this cobwebbed state, away from perpetually tan old people, or ones so fossilized they couldn't see straight. She needed to quit smoking, and she stood, brushing sand from the backs of her thighs. Reaching into her pocket, she gripped the last three smokes, then tossed the crumpled packet into the trash.

" _Hey Phil? It's me. Yeah, I know, I hear you laughing and no, I am NOT calling from the house. I'm at this guy's place, some surfer-fisherman. He's cute, wants to get laid. I might, depending on how long I end up talking to you._

" _I gave up smoking today. I feel like shit. I feel like... Oh my God, I want my box back!" Small laughter. "Jesus, that sounds awful, like I want you to fuck me. I don't, I mean, I don't want this guy to either, shit, I can't even remember his name! Does that make me a whore? A lay for a long distance call, what would my mother say? What would Claire say? Oh Christ, I won't even go there._

" _Honey, I'm coming home, well, probably in three days or so. Gotta see if I can change my ticket. I can't be here, and I know, you told me so. Phil, you know what I thought about today? The summer of '72, when Jo-Jo died, and I did too. That was the first time I went to the beach alone, Claire pissed me off so badly that I ran away. Have I ever told you this? I was sitting there, wishing for a smoke, but instead I watched this old fat broad in a one-piece, but she was laying so all I could see was her pubes sticking out of the bottom of the swimsuit. God, why do they do that, I mean, not their not shaving down there, but I mean, shit! Have some modestly for God's sake." A large laugh. "That's why Claire and Arthur never took me to that beach when I was little. Too many fat snowbirds. But actually, I've seen her here for years, so I know she's a local. Arthur and Claire probably don't like the locals any more than the snowbirds. Actually, I don't even know if snowbirds would lay on that beach, too many noisy kids, and it's summer anyways. I didn't make a sound that day, the summer you lost your mom. Phil, oh Jesus, please don't let this machine hang up on me yet! I love you, you know, I really do. Sometimes I wanna make love to you." A generous giggle. "Sometimes I feel like if we did it, we'd never sleep with anyone else ever again. Then sometimes I think I'd be kissing you and it would turn into something sort of icky. Not as bad as that fat woman's pubic hair in my view, Jesus Christ! Phil, okay. I need to stop coming here, stop subjecting myself to them, but I'm all they have left. Do they realize that, do they even see that I come here as some sort of death march, but it's not crossing the highway that's gonna kill me, just stepping from my room to the kitchen, sitting at the same table she did. But Laura's not Mom to me. That's why I ran away. Jo-Jo left you and I wanted to leave them but all I did was get as far as the beach. I bet that fat broad was sitting there then, but I was probably crying too hard to notice. Phil, make up your spare room, 'cause I can't stay here, oh my God, I can't!" Sobs emerged. "I want to, I really do. I wanna be what they want, I wanna be, oh God, my mother! Phil, how do you pick up that guitar and..."_ **Click**

Phil stood in the terminal, hoping Julia had actually given up smoking. It was all he could consider, her anguished message still on tape, sitting in his bedside table drawer, along with condoms, Chapstick, a pencil, and small pad of paper. Those last two items were for late night or early morning song ideas. The condoms were for protection, the Chapstick was too.

All Phil wanted was to see her and not smell smoke. He hated her habit, hoped she was serious. Her grandparents would be an eternal battle, but maybe cigarettes would have hit the road. As travelers filed from the gangway, he scanned for a medium-sized blonde; she would be a towhead after a week in Florida. That and the lemon juice she squeezed in her hair, along with the Miss Clairol she sometimes used.

Finally she emerged and Phil ran through the crowd. Their embrace was lengthy as she cried against him. Phil noticed deep sorrow, no tobacco fumes. He kissed her head, then took her duffel, the same bag as when they had met in this city, at the bus station. Now they flew across the country, but as Phil toted her luggage, he nearly carried Julia too.

They didn't speak as they reached his car, a 1977 Ford Pinto station wagon with wood paneling. She laughed at his wheels, then took deep breaths getting into the car. Phil wasn't sure if that was due to her former habit or just being clear of Florida. As he started the engine, pulling from the parking lot, Julia began to giggle. "Why'd you buy this car?"

"I like wood paneling."

"Phil..."

"No one's gonna steal it. How are you?"

"Tired. Anxious. But I did quit. I really did."

"Quit smoking or just the East Coast?"

"Oh God, I don't know which's worse."

Neither did Phil; he half expected not to see her in the terminal. Yet she had extricated herself from Claire and Arthur; they called them _C and A_ on occasion, or just by their first names. Grandma and Grandpa emerged less and less from Julia concerning those people, more often lavished on Helen and Daniel, which Phil's grandparents loved. They had gained another grandchild through Phil, and he and Julia still hadn't slept together.

They wouldn't now either, not because Julia wouldn't offer, but that Phil had met someone. He hadn't slept with Sunshine yet, but probably would very soon. "Julia, all I can say is I'm so glad you're here."

She squeezed his hand. "Oh God Phil, me too. Thanks, you know."

"For being a prick about it?"

"No," she laughed. "Well, yeah, but you know what I mean. All I want now is to take a shower, wash that hole off me. Sleep, uh..." She ran her hands along his forearm.

"Julia, I love you."

She giggled. "I know you do. Jesus, I had to sleep with that loser, shit! But it was worth it, God, I don't even need to actually hear your voice, just talk _to_ you. Or at you," she smiled, still running her hand along his skin.

He shivered, wasn't sure if it was from wanting her or Sunshine. He ached for one of the women. Then he smiled. Sunshine was eighteen, but an old eighteen. She seemed older than Julia even. "Hey, I uh..."

"Yeah Phil?"

"There's someone. Sorry."

She laughed, but didn't move her hand. "And just how much of a _someone_ is she?"

"She's young."

"Legal?"

"Yes," he sighed. "Eighteen. Her name's..." He chuckled.

"What? Not Claire, Jesus, not that."

"Sunshine. Sunshine Galveston."

"Sunshine?" Julia removed her hand from his arm. "What the fuck kinda name is that? Sounds like a stripper!"

She was, how Phil had met her, out with a bunch of guys with whom he was making inroads. If he played his cards right, an album might finally emerge. "She's really innocent, well, sort of innocent. I met her at a club. She uses a fake ID, about all that's false on her." He smiled, turning off the freeway.

"Uh-huh," Julia snorted.

"Really. She's uh, just a minute." Traffic was busy, and he swerved to avoid an accident. He said nothing for ten minutes as Julia stared out the window. Had she wanted to sleep with him? Phil didn't look at her, but noticed her uneven breathing. Not that she was crying, just a smoker's hack. She was twenty-three; how in the world could she have already gotten that hooked?

They reached his house, a small bungalow that Phil had purchased last year, after coming into his inheritance. Stan Gideon might have only released two albums, but he had owned the rights to all of his songs, leaving them to his wife and infant son. Had that been part of the plan, Phil occasionally mused.

The front yard was speckled with grass that now in early summer was starting to turn brown. The front door was new; Phil wanted his possessions secure, his and Julia's, that cigar box as precious as all of Stan's belongings. As they went inside, she looked around, noting nothing had changed since she was last here, right after Christmas. They had spent the holiday with their own families, then met up at New Year's, spent in Los Angeles, in Phil's new house. He had decided to make LA his home and would stick it out until either he hit the big time or the skids.

"Have you even washed these curtains?" she asked, pointing to ragged fabric.

"Was waiting for you to get home."

"Ha ha. Make Miss November do it."

"She's a stripper, not a Playboy bunny."

"What's the difference?" Julia giggled.

Phil sighed. He wasn't sure, except that dancing naked seemed more artistic, or at least less exploitative. It was how she moved, the way she had looked at him, as if she too understood. Not like Julia did, no one knew Phil like Julia, but Sunshine was close. Maybe after Phil slept with her, she would be everything Julia wasn't.

Which was better, as Julia sniffed around the room like she was Jo-Jo, making Phil laugh. "I'll buy you some Pine-Sol, Lysol, Comet, whatever you want."

"I'm not cleaning this place." Then she sighed. "Is it okay if I stay?"

"Of course." He stepped her way, wrapping her close. "Honey, this's your home."

"It's Miss November's home."

"Not yet."

"When?"

He flopped on the sofa, dust swirling. They laughed, running their hands through the particles, then Julia sat beside him. "You wanna tell me about it?"

"What's to tell? They're assholes. End of story."

"Grandma and Grandpa Asshole." Phil laughed, then kissed Julia's head. "Honey, I am so sorry."

"Me too," she sniffed, leaning into him. She stroked his chest, and Phil groaned.

"Julia..."

She stopped. "I know, just making sure Miss November had something. I guess she does."

"Honey, tell me."

She buried her face into him. "Easier to tell your machine."

"Okay. Pretend I'm not here." He began to hum. "Leave your message at the beep."

She giggled, then pulled away. Scooting to the other end of the sofa, Julia then lay on her back, setting her feet over the arm. "Hey it's me. So Phil, how's your girlfriend?" She giggled. "No really Phil, really. Really. Shit. You know what I left there?"

Phil said nothing.

"I left all I ever was. When I was twelve, I left my heart in that house, probably encased in fucking plastic. Some sort of fucking sheet rock, and they just rolled it up alongside all she ever was. All Laura and I are to them are relics, not human, nothing to them is human. Or humane. Just cracked plastic, that's all I am, cold, cracked plastic. They lay me out every single fucking summer. I hate them Phil, I hate what they've done to me, to her, to my dad. I love my dad and all they want is for me to hate him."

She lifted her head, tears falling toward her temples. Julia was one of the few people Phil had met who could cry in silence. He wiped her forehead, spreading liquid into her hairline. "I love you."

"They don't. They hate me because my last name is Penn. And because I look like her, well, a little." She continued to stare at him. "You look like Daniel. Have I ever told you that?"

"Uh-huh."

"Really? When?"

When we got back from the convenience store, Phil wanted to say. When we decided friendship was better than screwing each other, and Phil smiled. "Right before you headed to Florida the first time, you know, from Columbus. You told me then."

"When Phil? I don't remember."

He traced her temples, and she cried as he did it. "When you were getting ready to leave, when I took you to the bus station. You were sitting in the red Pinto, and you said I'd be a handsome old man."

She nodded. "Oh yeah, I remember."

He smiled at her allowance for fiction to become truth. Julia seemed to cope better if life's edges were frayed. "Yup. That's what you said, and I told my grandma and she loved it. I mean, I think she always saw it, but she never said anything."

"If you grow up to be anything like Daniel, oh my God, Miss November won't know how good she has it."

He laughed. "If I ever grow up. Big shoes to fill."

Phil meant his grandfather's, even if Stan Gideon had worn a size fifteen.

That night they went to sleep in separate rooms, but in the morning Phil found Julia at his side, curled in a ball. He covered her, then went to pee. Then he made coffee, letting her sleep.

She woke at nine, looking rough, then plowed through three cups of lukewarm coffee. Phil had to be at the studio by noon, and asked if she would be all right here alone. "I mean, you can come with me. You'll be bored as hell, but..."

"No, I think I'll stay here, clean a little." She sniffed, then smiled. "Miss November know how to use a mop?"

"No idea." Phil didn't know much more about Sunshine than she looked great in the buff and seemed to want to get to know him that way too. "So I don't know when I'll be home..."

"Vons is around the corner, right?"

"Yup." He took his wallet from his back pocket, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill, setting it on the table. "Get whatever this'll buy you."

She giggled. "I have money of my own, you know."

"Well, Lysol ain't cheap baby."

"Is Miss November allergic to cleaning products?"

He kissed her forehead, leaving his lips for seconds longer than normal. "Dunno. Haven't asked her yet."

"Phil, it's okay, I mean. Okay, yeah, I think I did wanna sleep with you this time."

"You did sleep with me," he laughed, staring at her temples.

"Well, okay, sleep. But Phil..."

"Better this way Julia."

"Is it?" she asked, as he stepped to the front door.

Her hands were set into her sides, her smile a tease. She looked like... His mother, maybe like her own. A little like Laura Riley, maybe even some like Stan Gideon. Except that unlike that trio, Julia appeared permanent. She was a fixture, as long as Phil didn't make love to her. If that happened... "Julia, get your ass to Vons and buy me a roast."

"Yes sir!" she laughed, saluting as he went through the door.

At seven p.m. Phil returned to a fragrant house, but the combination of beef and ammonia didn't turn his stomach. The faint scent of tobacco bothered him, but maybe she had needed a few puffs. Smoking was a hard habit to kick, like any other drug; Phil steered clear of pot, beer, and cigarettes, which wasn't easy, especially with the current company he kept. Not Sunshine, but the all the guys with whom he made music; it seemed everyone was on something.

Was it growing up in Ohio, was it Daniel Reese? Was it just Stan Gideon; Phil wasn't sure, but he ignored Julia's smoky breath, kissing her cheek. "Looks great in here baby. Smells good too."

"I've been working and slaving, oh my!" She giggled, sitting at the table. It was bare and scrubbed, as were the counters and stove. "Phil, you are an absolute pig."

"I am an absolute man," he smiled, pulling a Pepsi from the fridge, it too having been cleared out. "Shit Julia, what didn't you clean today?"

"Your underwear. I will scrub a lot of things Phil, but I am not touching your laundry."

"That's fair." He sat, cracking his knuckles. "I can do it tomorrow."

"What about Miss November? Can't she throw those stiff boards in the washer?"

"She hasn't even been here yet."

"Probably too scared to step into this pit. That's why you wanted me to come back here, asshole." She laughed, then stood, checking the roast. "Okay well, it looks like meat. You need to shower first or shall I do the honors?"

Phil drained the Pepsi, then stood, pulling her close. "I'm sorry, okay?"

She looked to the floor. "I mopped and you didn't even notice."

"I see everything, you know that."

Their eyes met. "Do you Phil, really?"

"You know I do."

He could have kissed her, which would have led them to his bed. Instead he set his fingers along her face, up to her forehead. Phil left his digits there, as if placing more into her than his prick. "Julia, if you want me to..."

She shook her head, then set her face against his. "Why do you love me?"

"Can't help it."

"You can help some of it." She pressed against him, but he was flaccid.

"Julia..."

"They're supposed to love me for me. Did they ever? Did they love her for who she was, or for only what she wrote?"

"I don't know honey."

"I don't either. Neither do they. They can't remember loving her, all they know is how to hate him. They hate him, which translates to them hating me." She lifted her head, then set her fingers to Phil's temple. "Why Phil, why?"

"Oh baby, I dunno."

Dinner was delayed by her sudden outburst; Phil removed the overdone roast from the oven. He didn't mind, preferring meat well-cooked, but Julia wailed about that as well as her grandparents, and her dad not getting to the doctor. Phil hadn't heard that tale, but Chuck's poor health tumbled forth, along with how much Julia missed her keepsake box. Lamenting her homeless status, she wept in Phil's arms as he surveyed all her handiwork. Everything had been dusted, polished, and vacuumed. Julia had never cleaned like this before, and if Phil brought Sunshine here, she would have to understand the tidiness wasn't the status quo.

But Julia's presence was permanent, whether she was bawling or stoic. If Sunshine balked about another woman in the picture, she would be history. "Honey, let's eat something. You need to eat."

"It's ruined, I ruined it!"

"You did not."

"Phil?" Julia's eyes were red and puffy. "Why do you put up with me?"

"Why do you think?"

"Uh, well..." She smiled, wiping her face. "I don't know really. It's sure not because you find me irresistible."

"Oh but I do." He kissed her, a warm, friendly exchange. Then he smiled. "Julia, how many women would clean my house, cook my dinner, then cry in my lap?"

"I don't know. All of them?"

"No honey. Only you."

"But Phil, why me?"

He stroked her hair, wondering how being so torn apart by her grandparents hadn't driven her crazy. "Julia, let's eat some dinner."

He pulled her from the sofa, then led her to the table. Phil served, would have cut her meat if she'd asked. He would do anything but sleep with her, yet that tempted. Had his father felt this way for Jo-Jo, some inbred desire for weakened females? Julia lifted the fork to her lips as if her trembling hands needed assistance. "You can't go back there honey. I mean it."

"What?"

"You heard me. Don't go back there. They'll kill you, I swear to God."

"I left my notebook there Phil."

He dropped his fork. _"You what?"_

She stared at her plate, then put her finger into the peas. "I realized it as Greg drove me to the airport. If we went back for it I would've missed the flight, or maybe I would've chickened out altogether. Besides, he was bitching enough as it was, I mean, the sex wasn't great but he didn't seem that put out. I put out, what else did he want?"

"Julia, what are you gonna do?"

It was the same notebook she'd had on the bus, barely half full then and not much more had been added since. "Honey..." He reached across the table, grabbing her hands. "God Julia, you want me to go get it for you?"

Phil would walk all the way across America if she asked. Instead she shook her head. "No, I mean, if I'd wanted to remember it, I would've."

"Will they read it?"

"Who knows? I doubt it, they never read her last novel, or if they did, they never say anything about it."

Phil nodded. "Julia, really, what're you gonna do?"

"I took care of it."

"Yeah?"

"I bought a new one today at Vons."

She spoke as if having replaced a stick of deodorant. "You bought another at Vons?"

"Well, they sell them there. Really Phil, it's just a notebook."

"It's not just a notebook! If I left Dad's guitar outside overnight, you'd have my head!"

She began to cry. "Don't get mad at me, shit!"

He stared at her, then sat beside her. "Baby, my God! Why'd you leave it there?"

"Because I forgot, I just forgot it."

Truth was fluid with Julia Penn; she had smoked that afternoon because she didn't have her notebook, only a cheap impostor from a grocery store. "Honey, oh Julia..." Phil cradled her as he recalled his mother holding him, or how Helen had comforted him after Jo-Jo was dead. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Sleep with Miss November," she wailed.

He considered that was true; as soon as Julia was subdued, Phil would usher Sunshine into this house. He sighed, then kissed Julia's nose. "Baby, tomorrow we'll go shopping, get you a proper notebook." She would want a leather-bound, lined but empty journal, that last tidbit scaring Phil. At least the old one contained words, proof she had lived.

"Phil, do you think she'll read it?"

"Oh baby, I dunno." He did know, but couldn't bear to tell her. Claire Riley wouldn't touch Julia's most prized possession. She might encase it in plastic, but the living words inside wouldn't see the light of day.

"I just couldn't leave them without some part of me, you know? They never acknowledge that I might be able to write too!"

"I know honey, I know."

She gripped his torso, then slipped her hands under his t-shirt. Phil arched from her touch, then found her mouth. They kissed for a while, never more than his lips to hers, neither daring to go further. Just as he began to desire more, she pulled away.

He smiled, standing, rearranging his jeans. "What _am_ I gonna do with you?"

"Don't fuck me, whatever it is."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "If you ever make love to me, it's over."

"I know." He leaned against the counter, then looked at the sink. It sparkled, and he laughed. "Besides my boxers, is there anything else you didn't touch?"

"Well, under your toilet seat. Phil, I nearly gagged."

He laughed. "Okay, that's good. A man's gotta have some sacred, filthy places."

"Your mind not enough?"

"Oh, you're so far into my head, probably why you're so screwed up now."

She laughed, then put a forkful of peas into her mouth. She chewed slowly, then stood, spitting them into the trash. "God, cold peas, yuck!"

Two feet separated them, then Phil moved her way. "Honey, tomorrow, we'll go shopping. New notebook, new peas. You name it, LA's got it somewhere."

"Phil, if I asked you..."

"Anything Julia."

He would do anything except sleep with her, which made him laugh, all he had wanted most of the bus ride to Columbus while she had gripped her notebook as hard as holding him. He shook, thinking of her deliberately leaving that journal behind, as if shooting herself in the head.

"What Julia, what do you want me to do?"

Her eyes watered as she kissed his face, from his left ear to the middle of his brow, brushing aside his long hair to do so. Phil needed a trim; maybe they would do that tomorrow too.

Her lips were soothing, as if putting something back together. But not him, and she could do nothing for Stan. Or for her mother, or those assholes in Florida. Too many ghosts, and Phil held her hands within his. "What do you want me to do Julia?"

But she didn't need to speak, and Phil didn't ask again. Tomorrow they would get him to a barber, which made him smile. Then to a travel agency, not that Phil would need a haircut to fly to Florida. Only a ticket, with a return. If Sunshine griped, Phil would accept it. He could move on from Miss November, but Phil would never leave Julia behind.
Chapter 3

" _Hey, uh, just wanted you to know that we're gonna be late, stupid plane has mechanical problems. Probably would've been faster if I'd just driven up, but hey, at least we won't miss dinner tomorrow. Are you sure Ray's not gonna be there? Okay, well, I really hope you check this before you come get us, or else I'm gonna find you tapping your goddamn foot but you better not be smoking, you hear me Julia? You hear me?"_

"Phil, can you hand me that potato masher?"

"Sure Lee. Uh, where is it?"

"Christ, right in front of you." Julia tickled him, making Phil squeal. Then she leaned close. "So, does Miss November ever ask you for a masher?"

"Shut up," he whispered, handing the utensil to Julia's mother. Phil never thought of Lee Penn as anyone other than Julia's mom. Julia called her that just as easily as Liz and Diane did, and while the sisters looked nothing alike as Julia had first told him five and a half years before, they were as close as any trio of siblings, even if the eldest was a few years ahead.

Lee attacked a huge pot of steaming potatoes, adding salt, pepper, and butter, then an extra splash of milk. The kitchen was small but cozy, as was the family, all of Julia's relatives, plus Phil and Sunshine. Julia's boyfriend was working on that Thanksgiving afternoon, but if Phil had to make a guess, Ray Winston would travel across the bay to find leftovers waiting. Phil thought Ray was perfect for Julia, or at least he was patient with her.

"Julia, tell your dad we're about ready in here." Lee kept mashing, didn't look at her daughter.

"Okay Mom." Julia smiled at Phil, then walked through the doorway, down a darkened hall. Phil heard her make that announcement, then she spoke to Sunshine. If Ray was patient with Julia, Julia showered that virtue on Sunshine, which never failed to impress Phil. Occasionally Julia still referred to her as Miss November, but never to her face, which also amazed. Sunshine wouldn't have been offended, well, not the first or second time. After that she might have pouted, but Julia hadn't even let it get that far.

"Anything else I can do Lee?" In that small room Phil inhaled all that reminded him of home. His grandparents had been disappointed with his absence, but Sunshine had to work on Saturday, and they would fly east for Christmas. Phil had wanted to share this holiday with the Penns, as important for Chuck and Lee to meet his girlfriend as Helen and Daniel. It had taken two years for Phil to admit what Sunshine meant, which had nothing to do with her profession, only her habit. Like everyone else he knew in Los Angeles, Sunshine was an addict, but finally Phil was ready to overlook it. Everybody had some crutch, even Julia, who returned with Liz at her side. That younger sister wasn't Julia's problem, only a notebook containing so few words, Phil wondered if Julia would ever let them out.

Liz kissed his cheek. "She is so cute! God, I never would've thought she was a..."

"Dancer," Lee smiled.

Phil nodded, then chuckled. "I guess she told you."

"No secrets with that girl," Julia laughed.

"Nope, not really," Phil said.

He stared at Liz, red hair in a braid down her back. She was only six months older than Sunshine, but Liz studied engineering at San Jose State, while Sunshine still stripped at the same club where Phil first met her. The women's occupations and physical make-ups contrasted, and of course, Liz was sober. Oh, she drank on occasion, Phil watching her sip a glass of white wine. Liz had turned twenty-one in April, and Sunshine would be that age in two weeks. Sunshine was drinking Pepsi, Phil having initiated that habit but it was minor compared to what he couldn't quell, not her fondness for stripping, he didn't give a shit about that. She didn't need to work, especially not after the year Phil had lived. His album was still in the top ten, no matter how much he detested his first record. Yet the public loved it. Sunshine loved his music too, and her work. She also adored cocaine, and Phil was as helpless over that as he was about his music. Or _the music_ ; he wished to disown that record, but couldn't do a damn thing to change it.

Nor could he do much about Lee and Chuck's tiny kitchen. He had offered to buy them a new house, but Chuck wouldn't hear of it, not from Phil or Julia. Phil could have bought them a new place outright, Julia could have offered a sweet down payment, but Chuck wouldn't take a single penny from either of them, which Phil respected and Julia lamented. Phil considered Chuck as a father-in-law, or an adoptive dad. As Helen and Daniel had taken in Julia, the Penns had absorbed Phil.

While Julia and Liz sipped their wine, their father lumbered into the room. Charles Penn stood nearly six foot three, strapping at over two hundred forty pounds. Liz had inherited her red hair from him, but now Chuck was gray, a retired cop, Julia having insisted. If her dad wouldn't move to a new house at least he could quit the Oakland police force, but it wasn't only a daughter's pleading. Chuck suffered from emphysema, the early stages apparent in rapid breaths, a slow gait, and a hack that made Phil shudder. Thankfully Julia had quit smoking, in part from her father's poor health, but Chuck still snuck out three or four times a day to which no one said a word. Diane would bitch if she was feeling out of sorts, but she was the only one to note that habit, as insidious as Sunshine's. Phil's girlfriend was behaving that day, and he hadn't even needed to ask her. Sometimes she could go for two weeks without any blow, then it took all his self-restraint not to haul her to rehab. He knew the Betty Ford Clinic's location, longed to leave Sunshine there, but unless she was willing, he was powerless. She stripped for money, but Phil would let her forever dance naked if she could just stop snorting her life away.

He never discussed it with Julia, hadn't breathed a word of it to his grandparents. Phil hoped that Sunshine could be this clean in a month's time; they were only going to Columbus for a week, then she could come home and do as she pleased. If she wanted to disappear for the beginning of 1986, Phil wouldn't bat an eye. As long as she was clean for Christmas, and her behavior that day was promising. She had promised him, and so far, so good.

"Phil, you want some more wine?" Liz asked.

He nodded as Chuck sliced the turkey, coughing every few minutes, the electric blade still running. How he managed to slice the meat and not his fingers as he brought up a lung, Phil wasn't sure. Breast meat piled on one side of the large platter, then dark meat accompanied, a nasty _hack hack_ rumbling alongside the knife's _whirr_ , adding to the din throughout the cramped room. Lee scooped potatoes, Julia stirred gravy, Liz set down the bottle of wine, then opened the oven, the heady scent of marshmallows and brown sugar drifting into the kitchen. Phil closed his eyes, imagining the same fragrances in Ohio. Then he wondered about those cranks in Florida. Having met Claire and Arthur Riley, Phil had to keep his eyes shut, not wishing to mesh that residence with this one. Julia did have two families and they couldn't be more different.

It was so warm in Oakland, but cold in Tampa; Phil had only been to Florida once, when Julia had left her notebook there. He was slated to tour America in spring, hitting Miami, Orlando, and Tampa Bay sometime in April. Those dates stuck in his head, three concerts he dreaded. Not that Claire and Arthur would turn up, but Phil had no desire to ever again step into that frigid state.

He had traveled alone, and hadn't let them know he was coming, which had been for the best. They were too stunned to do more than hand over the journal, but in that one meeting, Phil realized everything Julia had ever stated was the absolute truth. For all her vacillating on that virtue, she had described them to a tee, and Phil had shivered in the cab, then at the Tampa airport, then on the plane. He caught an immediate flight back to Los Angeles, not wishing for Julia and her notebook to be separated any longer than necessary. Just pondering that trip to Florida caused him to chug his glass of wine. Julia's laugh broke his concentration. "Shit Phil, slow down!"

He smiled, gripping the glass. Then he nestled it into the one free space, counters covered with serving bowls, dirty spoons, and saucepans. The sink was full too, and he would attend to those dishes after dinner, the least he could do. Chuck wouldn't let Phil buy him a house, but Phil could wash pots and pans while Sunshine absorbed this family; they were her family too. They were all any of them had, Phil allowed, scooting out of the way as Chuck carried the platter toward the dining room, his shuffle accompanied by two daughters, a wife, and a rattling cough. Then Phil followed, breathing in a warm wave of togetherness, the opposite to what he had encountered three thousand miles to the east.

Phil sat between Sunshine and Diane, Julia across. Chuck sat at one end on the table, Lee on the other, and Phil chatted with Julia's dad as Sunshine spoke with Julia's mom. The three sisters traded a constant stream of inside jokes that he could interpret from his years with Julia, but a few pieces sat outside Phil's awareness, which led him back to Chuck. Chuck saw things in black and white; the world, his former job, his neighbors. Living in Oakland, Phil assumed, lent itself to that view, perhaps Chuck's age, maybe Laura's death. Phil felt he knew Laura Riley, having read her novels since meeting Julia, then of course Julia; she was Chuck and Lee's girl, also Laura's. She was also Claire and Arthur's grandchild, even if she hadn't returned to Florida since the summer of 1983.

Then Phil paid attention to Lee as she asked Chuck something about one of their friends who lived down the street. Mona Washington's grandson had come home for the holiday; Aaron went to school at USC, was a football player. The gist of it went over Phil's head, but from the somber way Chuck nodded, grave details surrounded that young man's homecoming.

"I just saw Aaron," Diane said. "He looks good."

"Been keeping his nose clean, from what Mona said," Lee added.

Chuck grumbled as Sunshine gripped Phil's hand under the table.

"He caught a break, most of them around here never catch a break," Lee continued.

"As long as he catches a football." Chuck scooted away from the table. "All right, time for pigskin."

Phil had spent a few holidays at this house: Easter in 1984, when he and Sunshine were split up, then again over Labor Day later that year, a big barbecue Chuck and the next door neighbor always organized. Phil had met Neal Boggs and his wife Bunny even before meeting Chuck and Lee. Julia had insisted as if she had two sets of parents, or another set; how many adult figures did Julia need? Yet none of them seemed enough, as if Laura Riley's shadow loomed over the entire state. If Julia had a hundred mothers and fathers she would still be as exposed as Sunshine on stage, or as she sat there with Phil. Her grip increased, and he sighed to himself. They were staying at a hotel in San Francisco, not far from where Julia lived with Ray. The foursome were supposed to spend Friday shopping, but now Phil wasn't sure. Sunshine had packed some blow; she always had some on her. As her grasp loosened, he kissed her, told her he loved her. It was never enough to make her change her ways, but that night she seemed willing to overlook her usual tendencies. She sat up, smiled, then picked up Phil's empty plate, gathering others. She stood to her full five foot five inches, without spike heels, then with a dancer's grace she sauntered into the kitchen, where the sound of running water could be heard.

Lee went to move, but Phil waved her off. "No, no, you cooked. We didn't do anything but arrive late. You all sit here and let us clean."

"But, but..."

"No buts." He smiled at Julia, who nodded along with Liz and Diane.

Phil collected more empty dishes, heard Julia easing her mother's mind, that she would assist so Phil wouldn't break any plates. Lee still protested, but her tone was affable. Sunshine was putting on rubber gloves as Phil set the bowls on the counter, Julia right behind him.

"You two, jeez! Making us girls look bad. Phil, go watch football with Dad."

"No way. Gonna earn my keep, and some pie."

"Sunshine, make him go watch TV!"

"Hell no Julia. He's better at washing dishes than I am."

Phil knew Julia wouldn't argue; his house was a mess as Sunshine wasn't domestic. Julia cleaned every time she visited, which wasn't as often as before, not since she had met Ray. But she still traveled south, doing research for music articles written for _Rolling Stone_ magazine. That she had witnessed Sunshine in various stages of temper also contributed to her infrequent visits.

They hadn't called each other much in the past year, not since Sunshine moved into Phil's bungalow, or since Julia started living with Ray. Somehow those with whom they dwelled muted what could be left as messages, and neither Phil nor Julia were good at writing letters. Occasionally a postcard was received, Phil better than Julia at correspondence, but over the last six months they had hardly shared more than _hello_ , why this dinner had been important. That Phil and Sunshine hadn't reached Oakland till late last night had curtailed some of the visit. Now Phil's girlfriend washed dishes, an odd sight, and he smiled, trying to allow this as normal, like meeting Julia's grandparents, as if Julia had actually spent time in Florida. She had, under duress, like Sunshine mucking gravy from a bowl.

"Here, let me do that," Julia said, trying to muscle Phil out of the way.

"Not on your life," Sunshine giggled. "But Phil, you go watch TV. God forbid you see too much of me doing this."

The women laughed and Phil smiled, willing to allow this false face. Julia thrived on a mix of truth and fiction, and Sunshine also preferred smudged edges. Maybe that's why they got along so well; both needed a blend. Gazing at the women he adored, Phil accepted truth was a precious commodity. He kissed each of them, then walked toward the blare of football announcers.

"You want more pie?" Julia asked, standing between Phil and the television.

"You wanna get your fat ass outta my way?" Chuck said.

"I am not in your way," Julia giggled.

"But your ass's still fat," her father replied.

"Screw you Daddy."

"Julia..."

"No, that's okay Lee. Her ass is fat. She eats too much pie."

"I had one piece." Julia then stood between her father and the television.

Phil laughed, then stood, not needing any more dessert, only waiting for Ray to arrive. Then Phil would make an excuse; Sunshine was hanging by a thread, but it was thick, like steel. She understood Phil because like his family, she too only had grandparents. But they weren't like Helen and Daniel. They weren't even like Claire and Arthur. They were Betty and Dick, living in Pasadena, where Sunshine had been raised. Phil couldn't compare Betty and Dick Galveston with any of the retirees he knew. Maybe they were like the old fat broad Julia had complained about once, a message that Phil had kept on tape, but hadn't needed to; that call was embedded in his brain.

Betty Galveston was probably a cousin to the pubic hair-exposing woman Julia had encountered on the beach. If he had wondered how Julia held it together with Claire and Arthur's quirks hovering every summer, he never questioned Sunshine's existence. To ponder that meant psychosis.

From a very young age, Sunshine had lived with her grandparents, all the while molested by her grandfather. She had remained with them until she was twelve, running away to San Diego. She informed a police officer what had happened, but hadn't pressed charges, convinced by her grandmother that to do so would mean damnation. Sunshine spent the next four years at various Southern California foster homes, dropping out of high school at sixteen, beginning her career with a fake ID provided by an erstwhile boyfriend. Phil had spoken about those issues with Julia, needing somewhere to put them all, but they hadn't discussed it over answering machines. Those conversations had occurred face to face, and once Phil released it, he set it aside, like they had chatted on machines, then had burned the tapes. Better to destroy what Sunshine had known.

Julia sat beside him, grasping his hand. "Ray should be here anytime. Traffic can't be that bad getting over the bridge."

Phil nodded, then stared at a long pass thrown.

"Too bad Ray had to work tonight," Lee said.

"Someone's gotta spin discs or Mr. Famous here won't get another royalty check," Julia smirked.

"How's that album selling Phil?" Chuck asked, not looking away from the TV.

"Fine, just fine."

"The reviews good Phil?"

He smiled at Lee. She looked tired, a long day spent cooking in a tiny kitchen. Phil saw Diane in her eyes, Liz in her smile, but nothing of Julia. He squeezed that eldest daughter's hand. "Too good. They're expecting the next one to sound just the same."

"Will it?" Julia said, her voice quiet.

"Nope," Phil said. "Not a thing."

"Is that okay?" Lee asked.

He looked at her, not expecting anyone but Julia to have heard him. "You know Lee, I don't give a crap if it's okay or not. I didn't get to write a single..."

"Shit!" Chuck yelled at the television. "Goddamn bastard dropped the fucking ball!"

"Daddy, it's just a game," Julia sighed, gripping Phil's hand.

"Well, if they're gonna get paid like professions, better damn well play like it, not like a bunch of goddamn losers."

Lee caught Phil's eyes, nodding her head. He smiled, then stood, heading for where his girlfriend waited.

Phil found her in the bathroom, the door open. Sunshine was applying lipstick, but her hands shook. "You okay?" he asked.

She gazed his way, but her thin smile made Phil shiver. "Ray here yet?"

Phil shook his head. "Soon baby. You, uh, wanna leave?"

"No, it's okay." She glanced into the mirror, her hands still trembling.

Phil stepped into the room, closing the door. He set the lipstick on the small vanity. "Baby, we can go, it's okay."

"They're so nice, just like you described them. I really like Liz, sounds like she's gonna do really well."

That sister was the only one to attend college, unless beauty college counted. Diane lived in Union City, a few miles down the east side of the bay, working as a hairstylist. Neither sister lived at home anymore, not even Liz during summer. She preferred the South Bay, what they called it. There was the East Bay, the South Bay, the Peninsula, then the City. Julia lived there, in San Francisco, with her twenty-seven-year-old disc jockey boyfriend. Ray was a late night DJ at KFOG, but on holidays he filled in earlier slots.

The Penns were a real family, and while Phil easily mixed in, Sunshine considered them an anomaly, even if Lee was Julia's stepmother. Phil steadied Sunshine's shaking hands, then he kissed her cheek. Then he pulled her close, sensing a need for more than he could suffice. He had flown to Florida on a moment's notice for Julia, but for this woman, going to the moon wouldn't be enough.

"Baby, let's go. Ray'll understand."

"Phil, I can't do that to them."

"Honey..."

She stared at him, eyes brown, hair blonde, a body as if sculpted by a physician. But her boobs actually were a thirty-two DD, her waist an honest twenty-four inches. Her hips were an ample thirty-four at their widest; at five foot five she looked like a short Barbie, Cokehead Barbie. Fondled By Her Grandpa Barbie. Ran Away From Home at Twelve Barbie, Trashheap of Southern California Barbie. At times Phil felt like Ken, nothing to do but stand there and look good. He hadn't felt any differently while recording his album, only his name had mattered, some reminder to the past, his name and green eyes, but who he was had disappeared beneath bland pop and a marketing onslaught. In a decade dominated by Prince, Madonna, Bruce Springsteen, and Michael Jackson, Phil Gideon was as insipid and washed-out as Stripper Barbie, with whom Phil stood.

He stroked her face, but Sunshine Evelyn Galveston was turning from a human being to no more than a shell in the Penns' bathroom. How would she be next month, Phil wondered, then he felt guilty. She was falling apart and all he could consider was Columbus. "Baby, let's go. Won't take more than half an hour at the most."

"No, Phil, I can't."

"Sunshine..."

"What're you gonna do at Christmas, huh? Tell your grandparents we need to go out for soda?"

He shook, then held her. They rarely spoke of it, but Sunshine's secret was more noticeable than Chuck screaming at football players.

All night Phil had watched Julia's sisters exude kindness to a young woman right between Liz and Diane in age. Those sisters were very different in looks and desires, but when compared to Sunshine, they might as well be twins. Phil had felt akin to Julia since they met, still carried that sense of family, had hoped Sunshine would usurp Julia's place. Not because he needed Julia moved aside, but only to complete him, and to offer Phil one more place of solitude. But Sunshine wasn't any different than all the rest of those Phil knew down south, all of them hooked on something. If not drugs, then it was alcohol, sex, notoriety, plastic surgery, you name it, they craved it. Everyone in LA needed something to uphold the façade; it was demeaning, artificial, so, so... Damning and damaging and Phil swallowed, but his throat was scratchy. If he spoke, he would probably sound like Chuck, a shell of himself. Chuck's issue was too many cigarettes, and a lot of booze. Chuck had downed four or five beers that afternoon, then stuck to stealing Phil's Pepsis. After those first couple of glasses of wine, Phil had Pepsi, Sunshine too. It calmed his nerves, but for her pop was a placebo. She needed the real deal.

But there was nothing real about her pain relief; coke didn't ease her, only wound her tighter, as if she needed to be any more unhinged. She had started snorting to loosen up to strip; she had been stripping since in possession of that fake ID. She claimed five years that didn't exist, and while Phil was five years her senior, according to that first piece of identification, they were the same age. Sometimes she forgot, said she was twenty-six, but she wasn't. She wasn't even twenty-one years old.

Phil had just turned twenty-six on Halloween, had a gold record that was a piece of crap and a cokehead girlfriend to match. Suddenly thinking of taking her to Columbus for Christmas was absurd. She wouldn't last three days, not in the middle of Helen and Daniel's regular life. Cokehead Barbie could only exist on the West Coast, she wouldn't survive the snow that was icy, but not as harmful as what went up Barbie's delicate nostrils. Phil caressed Sunshine's temples, skin that felt so thin. She didn't know anything about his father, for which Phil had been stunned, then relieved. She only knew that Stan Gideon had died two weeks before Christmas, a date that had little bearing on Phil, but had troubled his mother. It hadn't caused her death, but going to Columbus might just do in Sunshine's head.

"Baby, I'm gonna call a cab. I'm beat, so are you."

"Oh Phil, no!"

Unlike Julia, Sunshine would face the truth, even if it meant seeing herself straight. She could look at herself for brief moments, accepting reality. Julia couldn't do that, and Phil was grateful. Julia dealt with truth in a way that didn't harm her, but Sunshine sought out the facts, then dulled them. Stan had done the same, and suddenly Phil was curious as to how much of his father was like this very young woman, not even twenty-one. Phil's dad had reached that age, but no further, and Phil would be damned if Sunshine died on his watch. He loved her, and like for Julia, would do anything for her, even take her away so she could snort coke. All they had to do was get to the hotel, take the elevator, reach their room. Phil would set the chain or dead bolt, whatever Sunshine needed. She needed far more than he could give her, sex and a home not even considerations. A quiet, dark place was where she could slip from that hard plastic exterior. As Phil held her, feeling her cool tears along his face, he shut his eyes, thinking about the interior of Claire and Arthur's house. He'd had to force his way into the kitchen, from where he saw the plastic-covered sofa. He'd been adamant, wasn't leaving without Julia's notebook, her heart withering in that frosty, entombed domicile. Now Phil ushered Sunshine from the bathroom into a slightly stuffy home full of memories that pricked his skin. They prickled because of how warm they were, homey and pleasant. He hoped no one would freeze their ass off, needing to take a piss.

He sat on the suite's sofa, hearing her ingest life back into her body. That sound, so hollow and wretched, punctured Phil's eardrums, ringing alongside the hushed _goodbyes_ as they had left Oakland. Lee had stood on the small front porch, gripping herself, Liz and Diane at her sides. Chuck had shaken Phil's hand in the house, only saying _so-long_ to Sunshine.

Phil stared into the room, lit by the muted television. He should have turned it up, that would have masked Sunshine's activities. Did he need to acknowledge if not in person then at least through noise? She said nothing, inhaling line after line. It was good stuff; Sunshine bought pure shit, in so many ways, but Phil wished for a Pepsi. That was harmless, well, it might rot his teeth. Helen teased him about that, and he wasn't sure how he was going to excuse their absence at Christmas. No way in hell could he take Sunshine to Ohio, no fucking way.

He wouldn't use that tone with his grandmother, would have to come up with something. He could enlist Julia, say that Chuck wasn't well, that Chuck needed them. Phil's grandparents liked Julia's family, what they knew of them. Helen and Lee exchanged Christmas cards, and Phil would even go so far as to ask Lee to mention that Chuck had been sick, just some offhand sentence only for Helen and Daniel Reese. One small untruth would save Phil so much in the way of his grandparents' heartache and the mountain of despair hunched over a mirror in the bedroom. Sunshine had packed her special mirror just for this purpose.

He didn't ask how she had managed to smuggle the drugs, but no one had searched her bag. She had survived her childhood, then had lied about her age for five years, so what was a little blow shoved into luggage, up her nose, into her bloodstream? Phil ran his tongue along the rim of the soda can, sharp but not lethal, not like what was happening in his bedroom. That wasn't as immediate as some methods, and he squeezed closed his eyelids, thankful he only needed to lie to his grandparents. If Jo-Jo was alive, what would Phil say to her?

That he could ask Lee to fudge the truth was one thing. That he would openly deceive his grandmother, even his grandpa, and Phil pressed his tongue against the metal edge, but he wasn't the first Gideon to flirt with disaster. Then Phil set down the can. He stood, stepping toward the bedroom. She was done, the suite silent. He could hear his breathing, wanted to hear hers.

He said nothing, only peering around the doorway. She wiped drops of blood from her nose, nothing like the gushers that occasionally followed, but she had been snorting cocaine for five years. She had kept it from Phil for what he felt was an age, or maybe he had been so in love with her he hadn't wished to see. For six months he hadn't realized her habit, until a bassist with the same craving pointed it out. Phil had nearly been sick, calling Julia, leaving an aching message. He hadn't called Sunshine until her absence was as debilitating as what he had learned. Looking at her lying on the hotel bed, he wondered how he had allowed her to get under his skin. Maybe it was genetic; Gideon men weren't able to withstand a damsel in distress. Yet Stan had gotten off lightly with Jo-Jo, Phil felt. Or maybe he had quit while he was ahead.

"You ready for bed baby?" Sunshine giggled like she was sixteen again. She exposed her breasts, small rose-colored nipples that shined against smooth, pale skin.

Initially Phil had been attracted to her generous bosom. That they were real had been a surprise, nothing fake about Sunshine except her age and her smile. She flashed a grin that dug into Phil's heart, and he shook his head. He never could make love to her after she'd snorted, it seemed the most cruel idea.

But she was too high to note that, which was probably for the best. Phil sighed, watching her smile, then toss back her head. She would be up for most of the night, bad timing, as all he wanted to do was sleep. "I'm going for a walk," he said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Don't wait up for me."

She seemed chastened, as she nodded. Phil grabbed his wallet, a key, then chugged what remained of the Pepsi. Then he left their suite.

" _Hey, I know it's late. God, I hope you're still in Oakland. Julia, I don't care if Ray hears this. I gotta ask Lee if she'll do something for me, and I'll need you to back me up. Grandma's gonna shit a brick, but there's no way I can take Sunshine to Ohio. Christ, I love her, you know I love her, but I can't save her, shit! I'm standing in a phone booth, thank God this's a local call. And I've got lots of change, gonna just chuck dimes in, one after another, 'cause I need to talk. I need to, shit. I know what I need to do, but how? Not like I can get on a plane and make it all better. But I can't take her to Columbus. I can't take her home for Christmas. I can't even, just a minute. Okay, you still there? I don't know anymore. I love her, but I feel like no one hears me, not her, not anyone buying the fucking album, only you." Laughter. "But you won't hear this for a while. And even when you do, what the fuck? Not like you can fly to Ohio with me." More laughter. "Julia, I, uh, dunno. I don't know what's gonna happen to me, to her. I, uh, don't worry, okay? I mean, shit. I don't wanna make you worry. I'll be fine, I'll, uh, figure it out. I'll do something. So yeah, I, uh, I'll call you, uh, tomorrow. Not sure about tomorrow. It'll probably be okay. If she can sleep some, but shit. She's not gonna sleep for hours, fuck! Well, okay. I'm gonna go back now, but don't call me there. I'm exhausted. Gonna sleep on the sofa. Sofas are nice, I like sleeping on sofas. Okay, well, yeah. I'll, uh, talk to you later. Tomorrow. I'll, uh, see you sometime tomorrow. 'Night Julia, you too Ray. Goodnight."_
Chapter 4

" _So Julia, so yeah." Laughter. "So like she's still clean." Big chuckles. "God, that sounds so blasé, Jesus. So, uh, what else? Oh, I know." Phil cleared his throat. "So I was talking to Milt, about those demos. Said he really likes them. Said he thinks that I could easily make an album outta it, can you believe it? Said he heard my first record, thought it sounded like shit." A long chuckle. "I told him no shit, and we laughed, you know, like what the fuck? So I sold my soul, who hasn't?" A pause. "Julia, she's really clean, been five months now. I, uh, need to tell you something else, but not over the phone. When I see you, when am I gonna see you next? Been too long, you can't still be writing that article. Oh, how's Chuck? Liz called me, said he was out of the hospital. I didn't even know he was in the hospital, so I called Lee and you know how she is, played it way down, but then I've heard nothing from you, so what the hell? I mean, shit Julia, what the fuck?" A long sigh. "No, I'm sorry. Shit. Okay, well, I hear the car, she's home. No, I wasn't gonna say this to you in front of her, but then I guess I'm not really talking to you, just at you. Remember when you came back from Florida and you laid backwards on the sofa, pretending I wasn't there? Oh hey, gotta go!"_

Phil lay in bed with Sunshine. Having just made love, he was nearly asleep, but she was restless, which kept him from slumber. When sober, she was twitchy, as if all those years of using something to take the edge rustled within her. Still she was clean, and had been so since the summer of the previous year, 1986. She backed her soft, warm body into Phil, and he stroked her hair, still blonde but not as bright. She had stopped stripping, too tempting to be there and maintain sobriety. She set his hand over her belly, and Phil nodded, his touch tender. He needed to tell Julia, and he needed to do it soon.

"Phil, I can't sleep. I'm gonna get up, okay?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She turned to him, and he kissed tears from her face. "Just gonna read for a bit. If I read for a while, I'll be nodding off."

She liked romance novels, a few of them scattered around the house, which was clean. She cleaned all the time, but since she wasn't working, what else was there for her to do? Phil's house was neat as a pin, would freak out Julia the next time she showed up. The last time had been a year ago in spring. Sunshine had been on her last legs, and how she had managed to keep stripping at that point, Phil didn't know, but he had imagined whatever fuel she ran on, other than drugs, had kept her alive. She had snorted herself to a nub, but a fire had still burned, something about this woman he couldn't ignore. With heavy eyes he watched as she stood from bed, wrapping a robe around her naked body. She had complained, putting on a few pounds since kicking the habit, but he thought she looked better for it, the weight landing on her hips, tummy, and thighs. She said she wanted to start working out, didn't want to end up as a fat slob. Phil then considered that old broad on Julia's beach and he shut his eyes, as if Sunshine would turn into Betty Galveston.

Sunshine left the room, closing the door most of the way. Then Phil listened carefully. With eyes still closed, he didn't see the living room light emerge, but heard the old _click_ , like the end of a message. It was just enough light so she could read. Then, as if he saw her pick up the novel, he heard her finger underlining the words. She wasn't a fast reader, only with a ninth grade education. She was going to take summer classes at Los Angeles City College, wanted to get her GED. He was so proud of her, but sleep beckoned. She said she wanted to be a writer, wanted to tell her story so other young girls wouldn't fall into the hell she had suffered. Phil tried to remain conscious, wanted to hear her read. Sometimes she said the words aloud, to better understand them. Not that romance novels were complicated, but for her own sense of how to write; Sunshine had actually gotten clean, she wanted to turn everything around. Phil struggled to stay awake, but a sated body and peaceful mind overruled. He fell asleep just as she began mumbling a new paragraph.

" _Hey Phil, hey Sunshine! Wow, how long's it been? Shit, too long. Okay, well, I'm heading to LA on Friday, hoping to see you guys. I've, uh, been busy. Dad's doing better, but he's still fighting being on oxygen. All his pride, the goddamned bastard, but maybe in another few weeks he'll crack. He hates thinking that once he starts, he's gotta cart that tank around for the rest of his life, but we keep telling him we want him to have a rest of his life. Liz keeps teasing, says she's not gonna have any kids until he does, but shit, she just broke up with Javier, so what the hell? I, uh, yeah, Ray. Ray and I aren't together right now, maybe you know. Well, you probably don't, I can't imagine he'd call and leave a message about that: Hey Phil, hey Sunshine, guess what? Julia found me fucking another woman so she left me. No, I doubt Ray would call and tell you that. So guess what Phil, Sunshine? I found Ray fucking another woman. Woo-hoo! Talk about killing my evening. I, uh, so that's why I haven't been to see you guys, between that asshole and Dad, shit, two fuckers never doing what they're supposed to. Okay, well, this's getting a bit crazy. I'm coming to LA on Friday. Gotta interview this coke-I-mean-dickhead metal guy, I have no idea why they send me these assignments. Uh, right. Okay. Well, yeah. I'll call you when I get there. Okay. Bye."_

As she stood waiting to move from her seat to the crowded airplane's aisle, Julia couldn't get the end of that last message from her brain. She hoped Phil had listened to it alone, did Sunshine even check the machine? Since the end of 1985, when Lee had lied for Phil, excusing his and Sunshine's presence in Columbus, Julia and Phil had left their messages for all, partners not excluded. It made for shorter quips; hard to spill one's guts when others might be listening. Julia hadn't meant to say _coke_ , but it had slipped, was probably as true as not, but with Sunshine's alleged sobriety, Julia wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Phil would forgive her, Julia was certain, but she didn't want to hurt Sunshine's feelings or infer anything. Julia muscled her way into the aisle; she needed to reach a phone, call Phil, see if the aberrant sentence had reached lenient ears.

By the time she emerged into the terminal, she looked for him, as if maybe he had come hunting for her. She saw anonymous Angelinos, or people hoping to flee this God-forsaken city. Julia detested LA, wasn't sure why. She wasn't overly fond of San Francisco either; she wanted to be at home in Oakland, to pester her dad, support her mom, visit her sisters, and avoid an asshole named Ray. A bank of phones lined the wall. Julia sat at one, dialing Phil's number. "Oh please pick up," she muttered.

"Hello?"

"Oh hi Sunshine." Julia's heart raced. "How are you?"

"Oh Julia! Phil, it's Julia. Oh hey, are you in LA?"

"Yeah, just got in." To Julia, Sunshine sounded as usual, or a new-usual. Not coked-usual, and Julia grimaced. She _could not_ use that word anymore.

"Here Phil. Hey Julia, I'm making dinner, a roast, you hungry?"

"Starving, but you didn't have to do that."

Sunshine laughed. "Well, what the hell else am I gonna do? But I'm taking classes this summer, so don't expect this in July. Here, Phil. She's at LAX. You're at LAX, right?"

"Uh-huh." As Julia answered, she noted a different cadence of breath.

"Hey, you made it! How was the flight?"

Phil's jovial tone made Julia bite her tongue. "Oh, uh, fine. Hey, I, uh, everything okay?"

"Yeah, just waiting on you. You renting a car?"

"Yeah, gotta do that." And collect luggage and confirm if I've made someone's shit list. "So Phil, I, uh, left a message..."

"Yeah, she's renting a car, so don't start the peas yet." His voice had been loud, then Phil spoke in a whisper. "She didn't hear it, don't worry."

Julia bent over as far as the cord allowed. "Oh Jesus Phil, oh thank God!" She took deep breaths. "I didn't even realize I'd said it until..."

He laughed. "She wouldn't have cared, but no, it's okay. Listen, take your time. Why the hell did you book a late afternoon flight anyway?"

Julia still trembled. "I, uh, shit. I can't think straight these days. Stupid fucking men!"

"Me included?" he chuckled.

"No, oh God no. Is she really okay?"

"Oh God Julia, yeah. Listen, go get your bags, get your car, then sit in traffic. We'll be here, see you in, oh," he laughed. "Five hours."

Julia heard Sunshine in the background, aghast at Phil's estimate. It was a joke, he told her, as Julia took more deep breaths, then hung up the phone. But she sat for another minute, as if having dodged a bullet.

At eight that evening, Julia finally got over her anxiety, a glass of wine assisting in that ease. Phil and Sunshine drank Pepsis, and the threesome laughed over Phil's attempts at restarting his career. The album he had made after that initial platinum seller had bombed, his own music far different than what his record company wished to promote, tunes more intelligent and meaningful than a record he now publically disavowed. But it didn't matter, as the public was ignoring him.

"No one gives a shit about anything real," he sighed, setting the empty can on a coaster. "I'm gonna lie low for a while, then make a comeback."

Sitting in a comfortable chair, Julia noted soothing cream walls that were tastefully dotted with charming prints, complementing the soft blue mini-blinds that were mostly closed. The dark, cloistered feel of before had been swept away and Julia gazed at the couple entwined on the sofa. Phil was enraptured with a woman who to Julia's amazement had quit snorting cocaine. It was in the brightness of Sunshine's eyes, the ease of her smile, the way she walked, not with a stripper's flair, only a young woman freed. Her body looked the same, maybe a little softer, more flesh to her bones, which Julia considered as a small joke. Sunshine's boobs were still huge, but she no longer looked like she might topple over.

"A comeback," Julia murmured, wanting Phil to know she was listening. It was hard paying attention to him and take in what seemed like a different household, a new woman. Phil was the same; he needed a haircut, swigged soda like someone else used to sniff coke. But Sunshine looked new to Julia, her hair not so blaring, her manner not jerky, or weepy. Or furtive or helpless, only besotted. She was wrapped around a man she couldn't seem to live without, but not because Phil was a shield. Julia ached for their happiness, and her loneliness. Then she smiled. "So Phil, in the meantime, what are you gonna do?"

"He's gonna be a househusband," Sunshine laughed. "I'm going back to school full time in June, and he'll be doing the cooking."

Phil nodded and Julia giggled. "Won't be as good as what you fixed tonight."

Sunshine smiled. "I know. We'll both have to get used to mediocre grub."

"Hey now, I am offended by that statement." Phil stood, hands on hips. Then he smiled, taking the empty can to the kitchen. "You women think you're God's gift to a radar range."

Sunshine sat up, smoothing her hair. Then she stood, stretching arms over her head. "You know it baby. Okay," she said to Julia. "I'm beat. Gonna get my book and hit the hay."

"What are you reading?" Julia asked.

"Just girl-stuff, nothing heavy. Not gonna tax my brain until summer. Baby," she shouted to Phil. "You make sure the stove's clean before turning in?"

"Will do."

Julia nearly laughed, as if watching a sit-com from their childhoods, but this seemed real. Sunshine was more concerned with the cleanliness of her kitchen than doffing her panties. A G-string actually, but instead she wore sweats and an old t-shirt that Julia recognized as Phil's. It was big on her, and Julia noted a book along the side table that Sunshine collected, the title making Julia's eyes bug out: _Having A Baby_.

Julia only smiled, then said _goodnight_ as Phil returned, offering Sunshine a quick kiss. Then he patted her butt, which was more to their routine, but Julia was still slack-jawed. Comfy clothes, a few pounds noted, the nesting instinct; Julia wanted to scream at Phil, but kept silent as he sat across from her, stretching over the sofa. "So, how was the flight and how's your dad?" he asked as if nothing else mattered.

Julia inhaled, then wished to slap him. "Anything you wanna tell me?"

"Uh, well, Sunshine felt bad that the peas were overcooked, but..."

"Is she pregnant?" Julia hissed, then regretted her temper. "Phil, why didn't you tell me?"

He sat up, then slipped from the couch, kneeling in front of her. "Oh Julia, no, shit! You saw the book, didn't you? Julia, no, listen..."

"Are you sure, I mean, shit Phil!" She stood, nearly knocking him over. "This place looks like fucking June Cleaver moved in and she's, she's..." Julia's tone was soft, but she pointed with vehemence. "She's like, like, like I don't even fucking know!"

He stood, pulling her close. "I know, Julia, it's like, Christ, some miracle. But honey, oh God, yeah, there's something I need to tell you."

"What Phil?"

She looked at him, tears at the corners of his eyes. "Oh Phil, no, she wasn't, she didn't..."

He nodded, then led her to the kitchen. "She quit because we lost a baby."

_It was just an accident_ quietly reverberated in the small room, which had also repainted. The floor was scrubbed, counters wiped clean. Plants lined the narrow windowsill; Julia caught all those changes, but Phil hadn't mentioned a miscarriage and Julia hadn't been around. "When Phil, oh God, when?"

"Last May, after we saw you, right after Challenger exploded. We'd only known for two weeks and then she got really high; she ran into one of her cousins, God, she's got a million of them all over the valley. She said their grandfather was in the hospital, had cancer. The motherfucker died in August, that really helped her, knowing he was dead. But in May, when he was still in the hospital, she just freaked out, went on a binge. I didn't see her for a week, was about ready to call the cops."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Chuck was sick then, how was I supposed to call you?"

"Phil!"

"Julia, shit! We knew, I mean, she was late, took a test, we hadn't seen a doctor yet, but when she came home, she was sick as a dog, and then, oh my God." He stood, moving to the sink, gripping the counter. "When she started bleeding, it was like, I could handle it. How many nosebleeds has she had, and for a few seconds, it was like, okay, I've done that, I can do this. But then..." He stared out the window, darkness beyond leafy spider plants. "Then I just fell apart. I had to call an ambulance, get her to the hospital."

"Phil, how'd you keep this outta the papers?"

He turned to her. "No one gives a shit about me right now. Funny, huh? A one-hit wonder, and who cares if his cokehead girlfriend's losing his baby?" His voice was stilled, but he held fists at his sides. "I could fall off the fucking planet and no one would bat an eye. Who's Phil Gideon? That shitty album caught attention for about two seconds. No one our age knows who my dad is, that's the only reason that record got made, not because of what I can do, and so yeah, my girlfriend lost a baby. Big fucking deal."

"Oh Phil, oh my God!" Julia joined him, then uncurled his fists. "What happened then?"

He sighed, then stroked her face. "She felt so guilty, really just fell apart. It wasn't just the baby, but that was the turning point, like everything she'd been ignoring fell out of her too. She quit cold turkey, both coke and work. Her grandmother called here, I don't know how she got the number. Sunshine probably gave it to her when she was wired. I answered one of the calls, gave that bitch the what-for. Nearly changed the number, but then, shit."

"If you'd changed your number, you'd have to tell me. Me and Helen and... Oh Phil, they don't know, do they?"

He shook his head. "We're gonna go see them at Easter. Sunshine can't wait, Grandma can't either. We didn't go at Christmas because, well, I wanted to make sure she was over it, didn't wanna stress her out. I told them we were just gonna stay here, and they seemed to understand. Grandpa knows, I mean..."

"You told Daniel?"

"I had to tell one of them something!" Phil stood back, running a hand through his hair. "How the hell was I gonna keep hiding her? He doesn't know about the baby, only the coke, said he'd wondered if it was something like that. Told me to hang in there, that he loved me, couldn't wait to meet her, but that he would, that they would. I have no idea what he told Grandma, she probably assumes something like this already."

"Probably," Julia said. "Phil, oh God, I'm so sorry!"

"Me too, but you know what?" His voice became circumspect. "Better this way. She got clean; I never thought she could do that. She really wants to go back to school, wants to get her GED. Wants to write a book," he laughed softly. "She wants to help others. It's like I knew this person was in there, if only she could quit the drugs. And yeah, I'm glad she stopped working, I can take care of her. Of her and whoever comes along."

"Are you, I mean..."

"No, no. I want her to start school, shit, she's only twenty-two, lots of time. I kept thinking about that, how much shit she's suffered, but if she can pull it together now, then God, we'll have our whole lives, all the time Stan and Jo-Jo never did."

"You want that, don't you?"

He nodded. "I never realized it, like who's the big dope?" He smiled, then sat at the table. "I don't even have to make another record in my whole life. Like I will," he sniffed. "But you know what? Stan's royalties, my God. There's more money there than, well, Paul McCartney's worth more," Phil laughed. "He called me, wanted to know if I'd ever sell Stan's songs. He owns Buddy Holly's, guess he was looking to start a collection."

"Doesn't own his own, guess he wants to make up for it."

Phil laughed. "Yeah, don't put him and Michael Jackson in a room together. Paul'd beat the shit outta him."

"You'd never sell them." Her voice trembled.

"Never. And it's not the money." He laughed again. "It's like you with Laura's books. If someone offered you a billion dollars..." Phil leaned back, setting hands behind his head. "They're our parents, and I never thought about what that meant until Sunshine was losing, oh my God. I had no idea Julia, none at all."

"So, how many kids you gonna have?" she smiled.

"Oh hell, I have no fucking idea. But you know what? Now we can. Before, shit, no way. But she's been clean for six, no, seven months. Seven whole months and I love her, I really love her. Or maybe I'm letting myself really love her. She's not Einstein, but she wants to say she finished high school, she wants, oh Jesus."

Julia set her hand on Phil's, easing his shakiness. "She wants to love you, be with you. Phil, that's incredible."

"Yeah, it is. And now she can. I'm not gonna fool myself, she might have a setback. It's possible, hell, more likely than not. But I won't leave her, I won't do that to her." He took a breath. "I'm not my dad Julia. Stan left Jo-Jo, but I will not leave Sunshine."

"I know Phil. I know you won't."

As a threesome, they visited various Los Angeles hangouts, taking in a band that Phil couldn't stop talking about, but Guns N' Roses was the sort of group to make Julia shudder. Hair metal she sniffed, but Phil met with the group backstage, leaving the women sitting at a table for twenty minutes. When he returned, he stood with guys his age, but with such different appearances. Phil looked nothing like the bedraggled, sweaty musicians that he introduced to Julia and Sunshine as the next Rolling Stones.

Julia had spent her days interviewing a similar band of reprobates, and had no interest, while Sunshine nodded politely. Phil was just a few years older than these... _Assholes_ sprang to Julia's mind, but the lead singer raved over the man for whom Phil was named, couldn't believe Stan Gideon's son was standing there with them. Julia excused herself to the bathroom, asking Sunshine if she needed to go.

In the tiny space that doubled as a women's toilet, they groused over Phil's sudden infatuation, then decided to take a cab home. Julia had grown protective over Sunshine during her visit as Sunshine confirmed all Phil had said, her honesty often too much for Julia. Instead Julia embraced Sunshine's sobriety, forgetting the incident to force the initial habit.

When they emerged, Phil was waiting alone, yet smiling in a manner Julia found curious. "What," she said, tapping her foot. "You're not gonna start playing that sort of shit are you?"

He laughed, taking each woman by the arm. "Oh, not me. They're gonna be huge, got an album coming out this summer. But no, I'm not gonna be the next Axl Rose."

"Axl Rose, what the fuck kind of name is that?" Julia sneered.

"I don't know, Julia Rose Penn."

"Ha ha." She slugged Phil as they reached his car. The wood-paneled Pinto had been replaced by a Honda, not very rock and roll-like, she noted. "I bet those guys don't drive Hondas."

"Soon enough they're not gonna need to wipe their own asses," Phil said.

"Only fill their noses," Sunshine added.

Julia had taken the back seat, couldn't see Sunshine's face. Her voice was disdainful, and Julia watched as Phil held his girlfriend's hand.

Julia stayed with them another week, finishing her interviews with the band that seemed no different than the one over which Phil still raved. He promised that he wouldn't make any hair metal, to which she made him sign a declaration to that effect. Sunshine witnessed it, and Phil bought a cheap frame, hanging the document in the spare bedroom. "If I violate this agreement, you may string me up by my testicles right over Mulholland Drive."

"I don't even know where that is," Julia sighed.

"He won't do any such thing," Sunshine said, standing next to Phil. He pulled her against him, and Julia felt a pang of jealousy. She hadn't heard from Ray at all during her stay, even though he knew where she was. She had left him several messages, some long, some clipped. Some she wished hadn't been left, but sometimes it worked out; Sunshine hadn't heard the coke-head reference, and had even sat in a club, sipping Pepsi. Julia had to admit Phil's girlfriend seemed to have beaten her addiction.

On the first Monday of February, Julia readied to leave. First she would visit her father, then if she felt brave, she would stop at her apartment. If Ray was fucking someone in their bed, she might shoot him, she joked to Phil, not in Sunshine's hearing.

Phil laughed, then clasped her hand. "Honey, whatever you do, be good to yourself."

She nodded. "You too Phil." Julia wanted to hug him, then she giggled. "You know what?"

"What?"

"We don't kiss each other anymore, not like the old days."

He smiled, caressing her face. "No, we don't. What, you miss me?"

"Ha! Keep dreaming." She looked around the room, thinking to past times. It was 1987; they had known each other coming on seven years. Her birthday was a week away, but she wouldn't spend it here, turning twenty-seven somewhere else, maybe Oakland. She thought about her father, then Phil's dad. Chuck wasn't overly well, but was still chugging along. She and Phil had outlived Stan, even Sunshine had managed that. Next up was Jo-Jo, and maybe Sunshine would surpass Phil's mother. A year and a half ago Julia wouldn't have bet on it, but perhaps Phil's girlfriend would be all right.

"What Julia? You're thinking about something."

Could she tell him? He had lost a baby, or some part of himself. Since he told her, they hadn't discussed it in depth, as if that child was like their dead parents, so fleeting neither recalled them. Laura and Stan had been joined by some formless mass of goo made by Phil and Sunshine, Miss November. Julia giggled, then shook her head. "Not thinking about a goddamn thing. Can't do that here in La-La land."

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm thinking the same."

"What, you gonna move?"

"Nah, I mean, she's happy here." He looked around the room. "She did all this you know, after she'd kicked it and quit work. Needed something to do, and I told her to just do whatever made her happy. No one had ever told her that, no one ever gave a shit for her."

Julia folded arms over herself. "You really love her, I mean, I know you love her, but is she the one?"

"I don't know. I mean, if that sounds flippant, it's only because to tell you the truth, I don't know very much at all."

She bristled, then shrugged. "Who does?"

"Exactly. I mean," he laughed. "I know that band, those guys are gonna make a ton of money."

"Phil, they're shit!"

He nodded. "To your urbane ears." He set his hands along the sides of her head. She noted he didn't move to her temples; he used to love to touch her there.

Sunshine had left for a yoga class run by the local community center. Phil and Julia hadn't been alone for more time than it took Sunshine to shower, but she wouldn't return until noon, by which time Julia would need to be on her way. But in that moment, Julia closed her eyes, hearing Phil's effortless breaths. She inhaled, as if to breathe the same.

"Phil, I'm glad, you know. For you both. Especially for her." Julia opened her eyes, saw his face so close. "But you too honey. Oh God Phil, what if, what if she..."

"If she does, I'll deal with it. Right now, she's okay."

"What if she gets knocked up again?"

"Then I'll be a daddy."

"Oh Jesus!" She stepped back, then turned away from him.

"Is that what you're afraid of?" Phil asked.

"No."

"Good, because neither am I, not anymore."

She faced him. "How can you say that?"

"Because I nearly lost her. Hell, I've been nearly losing her since I realized she was an addict. But last year she could've died, either from the miscarriage or quitting coke. Neither killed her, and every day I love her a little more."

"God Phil, that sounds like a song."

He smiled. "Yeah, good and crappy, but sometimes Julia, the trite, fluffy shit is just as real as the nitty gritty."

Again she flinched. "You're good at the nitty gritty Phil. Me, not so much."

"I know, and that's okay. Neither is Sunshine."

Julia looked at the coffee table, romance novels in a neat stack. "Does she really read this shit?"

"She's reading, hasn't done that since she was a kid. Said she used to love stories about horses. Said _Black Beauty_ was one of her favorites."

"Oh God, that's such a depressing book!"

"Yeah, I thought so too. I bought her a copy, she asked for it, and after she was done, I read it. Pretty easy, kid's stuff, except it's not. It's about people, about human nature. Claire and Arthur should read it. I bet your mother did."

She shuddered, for he didn't mean Lee. "Yeah, maybe."

"Laura read that book, I know it."

"Yeah, how?"

"Because after I read it, I reread your mom's last novel. It's about horses too, you realize that?"

"Yeah, I mean, they're a metaphor but..."

"But no difference. She doesn't mention Anna Sewell, but she should've. If Anna Sewell was still alive, she could've sued your mother for plagiarism."

"What are you talking about?"

He laughed. "Well, okay, inspiration. Or at the very least subtle hinting. But maybe in the late 1950s, no one was reading _Black Beauty_ anymore."

"What's it about Phil, huh?"

"It's about," he paused. "You read it, then tell me."

"Shit! Stop being so damned melodramatic."

"It's about Sunshine, Julia. It's about finding one little piece of your mind."

"Well, that's nice Phil. Christ, I'm gonna come back here and you're gonna have turned into fucking John Lennon."

He laughed. "Maybe. She wasn't kidding about the househusband thing. Says she's gonna be in class all day, up to me to make sure we eat."

"Well, good luck. If I remember right, you're not that culinary."

He nodded, crossing his arms. "You remember what you like."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Listen, you better get to the airport, don't wanna miss your flight."

Julia tapped her foot. "Well, yeah, okay. Suppose I better go fight traffic."

He carried her bag to the rental car, parked behind his Honda. She gazed at the ragged front yard. "So, Miss November not into gardening?"

He laughed. "Said that was my domain. Suppose I should shake a leg."

"Shake something or else she'll leave you Phil." Julia cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, that wasn't very nice."

"Sometimes we're sorta bitchy to each other."

"Maybe so." She wanted to give him a good-bye kiss, but instead she headed to the driver's door. "So okay, well, take care."

"You too. Call when you get to, well, wherever you're going."

"Uh, yeah, probably the folks first."

"Give them my best."

"Yeah, I'll do that."

"Great. Okay, well, be safe."

She stared at him, that long hair resting along his shoulders, but it wasn't as shaggy as that crappy band he seemed to adore. He smiled, then waved, as if hurrying her off, and she didn't like that feeling. Instead she played with the door handle, scuffing her foot along the street.

"What Julia?"

"I feel like you're mad at me."

He laughed. "I love you. Get your ass to LAX!"

"Phil..." She pulled back her hair, now about the same color as Sunshine's. Did Phil like his women blonde, was Julia still Phil's... "Phil?"

"What?"

"Will you just c'mere a minute!"

He took his time, and she was equally pissed at his tardiness and smile. "What Julia?"

"Am I losing you?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Am I losing you?"

"No, why?"

"Because..." She began to cry. "Because you love her, a lot. More than you love me."

Instead of taking her tears in sweeping motions, Phil cupped her jaw in his hand, then used his thumb gently along her cheek, then the other one. "Oh Julia."

"I mean," she sniffed. "That's probably fine you know. I don't own you, and I have Ray, or I had Ray. I probably still do, he loves me, can't get enough of me. Well, he can, but not that easily. He wants us to have a baby, but I told him no and..."

"Oh Julia! Why didn't you tell me?"

"How Phil? After what you said, I mean, Jesus!"

"You wanna come back in the house and we can talk about this?"

"No, I mean, I gotta go. Traffic remember? Shit Phil, why do you live so fucking far from the airport?"

"Julia..."

"Just promise me one thing, okay?"

"Anything baby."

She looked toward the blue sky, the day warm, even in early February. Then she considered how this man appeared no differently than when she had met him, the weather the same in May. Phil always complained it was perpetual summer in Los Angeles, yet he chose to live here, far from her in Oakland. He could have moved north, made music in San Francisco, probably the kind of music he always wished to create, melodic and honest. Julia stiffened. "Just promise me that if you and she don't, I mean, if something happens, you'll, you'll..."

"I will never break up with you Julia. I love you forever. It's different, you know that."

"We can never have sex Phil, never."

"I know," he sighed, releasing her face. Then, as if to remind them both, he kissed her. Tongues met, darted, then retreated. Then Phil stepped away. "I know," he repeated, sounding hoarse.

She nodded, unable to speak. Only then did Julia get in her car, start the engine, revving it there on the street. Then she pulled away in slow motion.

" _Hey, I'm here, just wanted you to know. He knew I was coming in today, maybe he wants to make up. Flowers are all over the goddamn place, smells like, well, a French perfume factory. I'm gonna take some to Mom and Dad. I, uh, went straight home first. Ray's not here, left me a note. Said he was helping a friend, would be home around seven. He has to work tonight, but not until late. Phil, I love you. Thank you." Laughter. "Thanks for frenching me. I, uh, really needed that. I think, oh shit, I did it again! Christ Phil, you gotta erase this, oh Jesus! Okay, Sunshine, if you hear this, he only kissed me because that's all we can do, I mean, oh my God, this's ridiculous. That's it Phil! I am not leaving you any more fucking messages, goddamn your..."_ **Click**
Chapter 5

" _Hey Julia. Just seeing if you were around. Call me, okay?"_

" _Julia, hey baby. Look, I'm, uh, here, alone. Gimme me a ring."_

" _Hey Ray, hey Julia. It's me, Phil." Laugher. "Like who else would call you. Man, do either of you guys ever answer your goddamn phone?"  
_

" _Hey Julia, it's me Phil. Remember me? That guy, you know, in L-A. Hey, what about Guns N' Roses huh? I bet you have the album, don't you? Don't you Julia, don't you?"_

" _Hey sweet child o' mine, it's me, the lumbering crooner in Los Angeles. Axl called me the other night, talked to him for an hour. Forgot what it's like yakking to someone out of their head. No, she's not around right now." Laughter. "So, gimme a call. I dare you."_

" _Hey Julia, I, uh, could you call me as soon as you get this? I don't care what time it is. I, uh, need to talk to you. I love you. Okay, so, yeah, gimme a buzz. Please Julia."_

" _Hey Phil, pick up, okay? Phil, are you there? Phil?"_

" _Hey Julia, hey. I, uh, she's, uh, shit. I don't know where she is." Laughter. "Maybe I'll call Axl, maybe he knows. You know who he's dating? He's dating Don Everly's daughter. But I'm Phil, not Don, and my girlfriend is, Sunshine is... She's, uh, shit. Not here. She's not here and I don't know where she is. Well, that's not entirely true. She's in LA somewhere, I do know that. Julia, listen, you don't have to call me back right away. I mean, it's not life or death. Well, it is, but I mean, you know what I mean." A pause. "I don't know what happened. She was fine, really. School was going so well for her. My life's down the toilet, well, my career, but she's been great, it was really good until she met some guy." A chuckle. "Yeah, some guy in her English class who used to see her at work. At the club. He knew her from the club and wanted to know why she wasn't there anymore, why she'd quit work, you know. And so she told him, then she told me all about him, like she wanted to help him, Christ! He hasn't done her any favors. But now, maybe she's doing him some. She's, uh, been gone about three weeks, I saw her three weeks ago last night. She said she was gonna stay with him just while he got clean. God, how dumb does she think I am? It's fucking two years since the miscarriage, you know that? She's been sober for almost two fucking years! But some asshole shows up, some motherfucking piece of shit and now that's all gone. Oh Christ Julia, I love her and she's gone, she'd been doing so well! We were talking about coming up there this summer, staying in San Francisco. She wants me to record an album, says to just make the music and worry about the rest later. She was willing to take the summer off from school, but now, shit. Now, what's now? What's today? I don't even fucking know, except that she's off shoving blow up her nose. What the fuck? You know what, fuck her! I don't care anymore. I should've known, I should've seen this coming. She was gonna fall back into it again, goddamn her..._ **Click**

" _You and your goddamn machine Julia! Shit. Okay, listen, I'm here. Just call me, okay? Call and I promise I'll pick up."_

" _Phil, Phil? PHIL! Shit. Pick up the goddamn phone asshole!"_

" _Phil, are you there? Shit. Phil?"_

" _Phil, Sunshine, anyone? Anyone there?"_

Reaching Phil's house, Julia parked behind his Honda. The front lawn was sparse, a willow tree planted last year looked sickly, flowerbeds along the front steps were full of weeds. Julia cringed, then knocked, then let herself inside.

"Phil? Sunshine? Anyone home?" The room was dark, and she set down an overnight case. Walking toward the bedroom, Julia heard a semblance of life in Phil's deep snores. She inhaled; it was three thirty in the afternoon.

She stood in his bedroom doorway, the floor strewn with clothes as if Phil didn't own a single laundry basket. He was covered by a sheet, his feet sticking out, and Julia wanted to touch his toes, confirm he was living, not a rumbling corpse. Instead she sat on the open side of the bed, looking at his grizzled cheeks, the stubble ready to be called a beard. "Phil," she whispered.

He rubbed his face into the pillow. The sheets were rank, not from sex, only ages of use; Sunshine had been missing for nearly a month and Julia wondered if Phil had stopped washing laundry at the same time.

"Phil, baby, wake up honey." She didn't touch him, staring at his wasted face, then into the room. "Phil, please, I'm here now. Phil?"

"Sunshine?"

"No, Julia."

"Julia?"

"Yeah baby, just me."

"Shit." He mumbled, then rolled over, exposing himself. Julia had never seen him fully naked, but he wasn't conscious enough to pull up the sheet, lying there as if dead.

Julia draped the linen over him, then lay beside him. "Phil, oh baby, I am so sorry!"

He curled into her, started crying. "She called last night, was so high, oh my God. I thought she'd come home."

"No, sorry, just me."

He clutched her. "Julia, it's, oh my God. I love her and she's, she's..."

"It's okay Phil, it's okay."

He bawled and Julia held him tightly, as if she let go, he would lose his mind. Then she sighed. "Phil, what'd she say?"

"Oh Jesus, just a bunch of shit. She's fucking him, she told me that."

"Oh Phil..."

"Said she was gonna stay with him. Told me to go to San Francisco by myself. Christ, when she's like this, she's the meanest cunt in the world."

"Phil..."

"Julia, oh Jesus." He sighed, then shook his head. Then he looked at her. "Listen, I, uh, need to pee."

"Well, the toilet's right outside the door."

"I, uh, don't have any clothes on."

"Yeah, I know."

"You do?"

"You flashed me a few minutes ago."

"I did?"

"You did."

"Oh. Well, okay then." He stood, not looking at her, walking buck naked from the room. Julia scooted up in bed, smiling from his sudden realization of modesty. Then she wondered how was he going to walk back in?

The room looked like a tornado had hit, dressers askew, food wrappers and music sheets littering the floor, even Stan's guitar rested on the carpet. Julia got off the bed and picked it up, setting it in the stand near the closet. She heard the flush, Phil washing his hands. Then she smiled. Was he going to return as bare as he left?

"Hey, how long've you been here?" He came in with a hand towel draped over his groin.

She laughed. "That's pretty decent of you."

"Fuck you." He sat on the bed, pulling the sheet over his middle. "How long have you been here?"

"Just long enough to wake you up. How long've you been a zombie?"

"I, uh, don't remember. Hung out with Axl and Izzy last night. God those guys can party."

Julia leaned toward him, stroking his shoulders. "You're a lightweight Gideon. They're professionals."

"No shit. Could teach Sunshine a thing or two, God, no one here's immune." He turned to face her. "Honey, it's over. I, uh, can't do this and live."

"Oh Phil..." Julia knelt next to him.

"You know, if she was just fucking him, or just getting high with him, just one. Maybe that sounds sick. But both? She's snorting and blowing him?" Phil laughed. "Christ! I am losing my mind."

"Phil, I know she loves you."

"She doesn't love anyone. She's fucked in the head."

"Phil..."

"No, she is. I heard it last night in her voice, just like before we lost the..." He looked at the floor.

"Phil, I love you. I am so, so sorry."

"I know. Believe me, it helps. At least I know I'm not insane."

"You're not. She isn't either, she just needs..."

"A shot in the head."

"Phil! Christ, don't say things like that!"

He stood, not bothering with the sheet or towel. "Julia, on Valentine's Day I asked her to marry me. I gave her a ring, the whole fucking ball of wax. She took it, probably pawned it by now. But she took it from me, cried, said _yes_. I didn't tell you because, because I don't know why. Because maybe I wanted to see how long it would last. You know why I asked her?"

Julia shook her head.

"Because I knew things were reaching the end, I mean, not _The End_ , but some end. She was starting to get fuzzy, starting to talk about us going to see you and Ray. She was getting the itch, needed to be away from here, and I knew that and ignored it. Instead I added to the pressure, I mean, maybe I added to it. All I fucking did was ask her to marry me, shit!" He looked at his body, then smiled. "I haven't had sex with her in two months. Now, one of those has been due to her absence." He glanced at an empty drawer, then to the floor. He picked up a pair of briefs, smelled them, then tossed them aside. The next pair he didn't sniff, but put them on, followed by a pair of jeans. Then he sat on the end of the bed. "One of those was because she was fucking somebody else. But the first month I couldn't, I mean, _I could_ but she didn't want to, said she wasn't in the mood. She has never _not_ been in the mood. She was in another mood, and I knew that, and so fine, we didn't do more than make fake wedding plans. Marry here, marry there, marry marry marry shit! Then she tells me she met someone in class, someone who knew her from the old days. The old days, right. The old but more like the new days, 'cause then he's all she can talk about, how she's gonna help him get him clean, just like she is. _I know I can do this, it's gonna be okay. Honey, I'm gonna be late tonight. Phil, I'm not gonna be home tonight. Phil, I'm not gonna be home ever again. Phil, Phil, Phil..._ "

"Phil," Julia said, then stopped. Then she sighed. "Honey, I love you."

He stared at her. "She told me that last night Julia, said she loved me. I heard him in the background, laughing. You know how that makes me feel?"

"No."

"Like the biggest fucking moron in the world! You think Axl and those guys are idiots? They got nothing on me baby, not a single goddamned thing."

Julia stood, stepping over dirty clothes, glancing at Stan's guitar. Then she reached Phil, his bare sunken chest like that of an old man. Julia caressed his face, then kissed him. Phil responded, no tongues, just a warm moist reminder. He tasted stale, but she didn't flinch. "Honey, I'm sorry."

"How long're you staying?" He set his hands along her upper arms.

"As long as you need."

"Forever?"

"Maybe." She gazed to the floor. "Gonna take that long just to get you back in clean duds."

When she looked at his face, tears had fallen. "Julia, I wanted to kill myself."

Her lips trembled, and she set fingers to his temple. "Phil..."

"I did. Maybe I still do."

"You can't."

He nodded. "I know. You know why I didn't."

"Phil, oh God, please."

"Honey, I wouldn't do that to you. Or to Grandma and Grandpa, but Julia, I know. I understand. I never thought I would understand."

She pulled him close, but this time Julia burst into tears. Phil gripped her, would later leave small bruises over her flesh. They were gone when she returned to San Francisco, the only time a man would mark her skin.

She stayed in Los Angeles for a week, doing laundry and various other household chores. During that week Phil made arrangements to move to Berkeley, renting a house for the summer. It was closer to Chuck and Lee than to Julia and Ray, but Julia didn't complain. It was far from this hellhole, which she didn't say to Phil, but to her boyfriend and sisters. Most of those in California knew about Sunshine. In Ohio, the story was a little different.

"Yeah Grandma, we're just taking a break. No, I mean, well, I'm hoping to get the record done by August. She's got school you know, I mean, we talked about her taking it off, but she's doing so well right now, I'd hate for her to get out of the groove. Yeah, I know. Yes Grandma, I'll tell her, you bet. Okay yeah, tell Grandpa I love him too. Okay. Okay Grandma." A small chuckle. "Yeah, okay, okay. Bye."

Phil inhaled, then sucked back most of a Pepsi. "Well, at least that's done."

"What're you supposed to tell her?"

He sat at the kitchen table, bringing the soda with him. He finished it, then crushed the can. "That they can't wait to see her at Thanksgiving. Ha! At Thanksgiving she'll be dropping her G-string."

"Phil..."

"No Julia, it's over. If she knocked on the front door right now, I'd tell her to get fucked." He stood, dropping the smashed can in a small wastebasket near the back door. "Really. I mean it. I can't do this anymore."

"You're such a bad liar."

He laughed. "Takes a good one to spot that."

She ignored him. "All right, well, there's a load of towels in the dryer. I'm gonna get those, then start dinner."

She stood, passing by him to reach the garage. "Julia," Phil gripped her arm. "Thanks."

"What? They're just towels. Not like I'd touch your grungy underpants."

He gazed at the floor, then met her eyes. "I can't keep waiting for her. It might take years, decades, never. I can't do that."

"Phil, I'd rather have you in Berkeley alive than down here waiting for her. All I'm saying is that you can't just write her out of your life. You can't do that."

He nodded.

"Honey, I wish it was that easy." She sighed. "Look at me with Arthur and Claire. God, I try to pretend they don't exist. But they do, Christ, same fucking plastic covers on that goddamn couch! You know how long that sofa's been entombed?"

"No, honey."

"Neither do I! But I was there, just last Christmas, and it still is. Why do I go back there Phil? Why do I do that to myself? I don't want to, I wanna tell them to fuck off." She giggled. "Baby, I know you wanna say that to her, and maybe you will. But don't just assume it's that easy. Loving and hating are both pains in the ass."

He laughed. "No fucking shit."

"No fucking shit." She kissed him. "All right, towels aren't gonna crawl back in here on their own. Your underwear might," she smiled. "But not the terrycloth."

"My underwear are pretty damned clean right now, thank you very much."

"Don't be thanking me. I wouldn't touch those stiff boards if you paid me!"

In June 1988, Julia left Los Angeles, but didn't fly north. She flew to Florida, where her grandfather was recovering from receiving a pacemaker. She wouldn't have traveled east for any other reason, and she spent a week in Tampa, but didn't stay with Claire. Julia rented a motel room right along her favorite stretch of beach, but the old fat woman with exposed pubic hair never made an appearance. Instead Julia talked to Phil on his dime, long evening conversations revolving around his immediate departure to Berkeley, and her anticipated return to San Francisco. A few words were spoken about her writing, not for _Rolling Stone_ , but in her notebook. Phil reminded her to stick that journal in her suitcase, as he didn't have time to fly to Florida on another rescue mission. When she prepared to leave, it was the first thing placed in her luggage, then was nestled between dirty clothes and her toiletries bag.

Julia flew non-stop from Tampa, Florida, to San Francisco, where Ray and Phil met her. She hugged her boyfriend, then embraced the other man standing. Phil looked weak, and she kissed his cheek. She gave her duffel to Ray, walking arm in arm with Phil as they left the terminal.

They were eating dinner at Julia and Ray's apartment when the phone rang. All had been drinking, and by the time Ray reached the phone, the machine had picked up. They ignored the message, returning to their meal. Julia checked the machine before she and Ray headed to bed. Then she stirred Phil from his spot on the sofa. "Hey honey, wake up. It's Sunshine."

"What, she's here?"

"No Phil, on the machine. She called at dinner."

Phil moved slowly, suffering a small hangover. "She called here?"

"Yeah, come listen."

With Julia's assistance, Phil stumbled to the phone.

"Hey, Julia? It's, uh, me, Sunshine. Listen, I'm at home, in LA. Phil's gone. I, uh, he didn't leave a note. I, uh, need to talk to him. If you know where he is..." Slight laughter. "Well of course you know where he is. Maybe he's there, at your house, right now. That's okay, maybe better. Julia, or Ray, whoever hears this, if one of you could tell him I called, tell him I was looking for him." A long sigh was followed by muffled tears. "Oh God Julia, please tell him I love him, how sorry I am. Oh my God, I'm, uh, just tell him, if you see him. When you see him, I know you're gonna see him. Oh God Julia, please pick up, please? I, uh, really need to talk to him. I, uh, tell him I'm here, at the house. His house, our house, oh my God, you know I love him, you know I do. Please, anyone, just tell him I love him, please?"

Phil shook, then squatted.

"Are you gonna be sick?" Julia asked.

"I don't think so."

"Was she high?"

"Maybe. I can't, I dunno. I'm not sure."

Julia knelt beside him. "You want me to call her?"

"No, she's probably sleeping. I'm sure she's sleeping. She didn't sound that high."

"Phil..."

He looked at her, then lost his balance. Julia tumbled with him, then he curled into a ball. "I can't, oh my God, all I've wanted is to hear her voice and now, Jesus Christ, I can't! I can't Julia, I can't!"

"Let me just call her, so she knows where you are."

"No, she, uh, probably doesn't know how to check the machine." He laughed, then lay flat. "Julia, I can't, I just can't!"

"I went back and saw Claire and Arthur."

"Oh Christ, that's not the same."

"It's totally the same. They're never gonna change, and she's not either."

They stared at each other. "But Julia, I love her. You're not gonna fuck your grandparents."

"Phil, it's the same thing. Now come on, get up. Go back to bed. Then call her in the morning."

She stood, holding out her hand. Phil shook his head. Then Julia kicked his leg.

"Hey, what the fuck?"

"Get up asshole. You're not gonna be some whining piece of crap here in my apartment."

"What? Julia?"

"Do you want my help or not?" Her hand was still extended.

Phil rolled to his knees, then stood from the floor. "I don't need your fucking help. Shit! Fuck you Julia Penn!"

"No fuck you Phil. She made it home, hoping to God you'll come back. Get over yourself Phil. You're not the only one."

He stared at her, then stomped to the sofa where he sat down, putting on his shoes. "Fine! Fuck you Julia. I'm going home."

"To LA?"

"No, to Berkeley. Fuck Los Angeles." He stood, then glared at her. "Fuck you, fuck all women."

"Yeah right."

Phil stalked to the door as Ray joined them. "What's going on?"

"Phil's being an asshole, nothing new."

"She's a bitch, good luck Ray." Phil threw open the door, then closed it with a slam.
Chapter 6

" _So hey Phil, I went by your place, saw your Honda was gone. Mom says you stopped by the house, looking pretty sheepish. Call me when you get there, okay? I hope you had a safe drive." A small pause. "Asshole," was followed by laughter._

" _Hey Ray, it's Phil. Just wanted to thank you for dinner the other night. Sorry I woke you up. So, yeah. Anyways, just wanted to say thanks, you know, it was great. I had a great time. So, uh, yeah. Not sure when I'll be up there again, I mean, yeah. Okay well, yeah. Okay. Bye."_

" _Hi Sunshine, it's Julia." A big chuckle. "We got your message, sorry about not answering you sooner. Ray and I hope to see you soon, you know, up here. But if not, that's okay. No biggie. Just, uh, take it easy and we'll talk to you later. Bye!"_

" _Hey Ray, it's me. So, uh, I think we'll be down here for another month, then try to spend August in Berkeley. I've called Lee, she's watching the place. Says it's something for her and Chuck to do. Makes him feel like he's back on the beat or something. So, yeah, we're, uh, here for the Fourth, gonna barbecue, I think. And, uh, that's about it. Take care."_

" _Hey Sunshine, happy Fourth of July! Hope you guys are soaking up the sun. We're just looking at fog, no one told the weatherman it was supposed to be nice today. Okay, well, I love you! Take it easy."_

" _Hey, uh, just wanted to tell you that we'll be in Berkeley on Friday. Coming up early, and uh, I'll give you a ring when we're ready for visitors. Thanks Ray, for everything." A short pause. "You too, Julia."_

" _Hey Sunshine, Phil, just wanted to wish you guys a safe drive. Looking forward to seeing you, just give us a jingle, you know? Okay, well, yeah. Drive safe and we'll see you soon. Bye."_

In late July, Phil and Sunshine sat alongside Ray and Julia on the tiny back patio of Phil's rental house. The deck overlooked the bay, and the sunsets were one of the main reasons Phil wanted to come back, wishing to share them with Sunshine. It had nothing to do with Julia, he told himself, also informing her to that sentiment. She nodded, didn't try to argue.

Sunshine's arm was entwined with Phil's, she was nearly asleep. As soon as the sun was gone, he would walk her inside and put her to bed. Then he would rejoin his guests, but they wouldn't stay long. Then Phil would retrieve his guitar, come back outside, and make a little music. Sometimes he played his own songs, sometimes he strummed his father's. Usually he played other artists, Jimi Hendrix or Eric Clapton from when he was with The Yardbirds and Cream. Clapton was enjoying a resurgence, but Phil preferred the older riffs, and would play until his fingers grew stiff from the cold.

None of the neighbors complained as music floated through East Bay evenings. Phil was so glad to be away from Los Angeles; Julia had been right, damn her ass, and if Sunshine ever felt able to leave LA, Phil would be out of there in a minute. They were talking about permanence somewhere else. Permanence between them was shaky; she had pawned the engagement ring, and neither spoke of what Phil had proposed. That she was close to him, not strung out, was a small miracle, and about all Phil could allow.

"You ready?" he asked, and she nodded. Phil stood, easing her from the deck chair, taking slow steps into the small house, but the interior was cozy, even on a cool evening. He escorted her to their bedroom, then watched as she slipped into a large nightshirt. She had lost weight, was trying to put on a few pounds. But she was clean, and hadn't contracted any diseases. Phil had taken her to a doctor before they left Los Angeles, before he had slept with her again. They were sleeping together now, but only after she'd had a period, and after having been cleared for sexually transmitted illnesses. She was on the pill, far too early to think about babies. Maybe someday, Phil sighed, as she pulled the blanket over her shoulders. Maybe someday they would make another child.

He'd had to deal with that issue, as she dealt with coming clean. That was part of their problem too, she had pointed out, but something Phil hadn't wished to acknowledge. The miscarriage and his proposal were why she had left him. She did want to marry him, but not with that loss in the way, and Phil had started seeing a shrink in Berkeley. As Sunshine said _goodnight_ , Phil shut the bedroom door, walking through the brief space called the living room. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a dinky kitchen cost just as much as the LA house if he had rented it out, but he wasn't going to. Berkeley was just for the summer. In fall, they would return south; Sunshine wanted to get back to school while Phil would... Do laundry, cook dinner, putter in the yard. Maybe play his guitar, but probably not. In Berkeley he felt able, even if most of the songs weren't his.

He reached the sliding glass doors, but didn't step outside, inhaling a strange peace. He loved it here, wished they could stay. He could pressure her into it, using the music and his therapy sessions as adequate grounds. He was seeing someone, she wasn't, what did that mean? It meant that Phil dealt with his issues and Sunshine couldn't. She was like Julia, able to take so much truth, but not all of it. She could quit using cocaine, but not face the reasons for it. Phil could make a lot of headway here, with his lifeless career and their dead baby. Yet Sunshine needed fair weather, not much of that in the northern tip of the East Bay.

Ray joined him, and Phil slid open the glass door. "Hey, we're gonna get outta your hair."

Phil nodded, stepping aside as Ray led Julia into the room. Ray Winston stood as tall as Phil, looked like Julia with blonde hair. The men shook hands, then Julia embraced Phil. "Thanks for tonight. She looked good."

He nodded. "Thanks for bringing dessert. Gonna be working on that pie for the next few nights."

Julia smiled. "Listen, call me, okay?"

"Yap yap," he said, squeezing her hand as they headed to the front door.

Phil locked it behind them, then looked around the one room separated into a living and kitchen space. He put the few dishes into the sink, ran water over them, then turned off the lights. Into the spare bedroom he went, coming out with his guitar. He checked that the front door was indeed bolted, then made sure his bedroom door was closed. Sunshine wouldn't have heard them leave, it was the music. Not that she wouldn't have liked to listen, but Phil didn't wish to share it with her. Then he wanted to kick himself; the shrink was trying to get him to work through that blame. Phil blamed her for losing a baby that hadn't been planned, but better to not have a baby with a coke addict, or at least one not recovered. Now she was trying again to be straight. Phil wanted her to be healthy, and if they had a baby, great. If they got married he would be surprised.

He wouldn't ask her again, another problem for the doc to help Phil to face; that she had pawned the engagement ring hadn't shocked him, but his latent anger was somewhat stunning. Phil rarely stayed mad at anyone, not Julia when she was being a bitch, not his parents for their actions. Not record executives who wanted him to kowtow, not fans who had flocked to a piece of crap then ignored his second record. The real Phil Gideon had been shelved, and he accepted that, nothing else to do but sit outside in the cool Berkeley air, playing someone else's music. Phil settled into his chair, set the guitar in his lap, strumming a few bars. Then he stared to where the sun had gone down, feeling a rush of inspiration. Fingers moved over strings as if someone else improvised the chords. Unlike his father, Phil could read music, and as soon as he felt able to move, he went into the house, writing down what he had just played. Then he strummed it again from memory. Then, feeling more tranquil than in ages, Phil Gideon put away the guitar and went to bed.

In the morning, he woke to coffee and a slice of peach pie. Sunshine wore her hair in a clip, looked about fifteen to Phil, some precious visage that made him smile. "Hey, good morning."

"Good morning." Her voice was soft. "How'd you sleep?"

"Really well." He sipped the coffee, then sat up as she set the plate on his belly. "How long you been up?"

"Not long. Phil, I love you."

He nodded, setting the coffee and pie on the side table. She sat on him, bedding in the way, but Phil just wanted to look at her. "I love you too. I wrote a song last night."

"Really?"

"The music, no words yet. I haven't done that in, God, too long."

"You're happy up here, it's a good place for you." She sighed. "Maybe we should just move, you know?"

She quivered as she said it, and Phil shook his head, stroking her face. "Nah baby, gotta get back home."

She nodded, then took off her night shirt. She straddled him as he fondled her breasts. That another man had recently touched her didn't enter Phil's mind. That hadn't been this Sunshine. This woman, clear-eyed and moving against him, was all Phil's.

They fooled around, then made love. Then Phil ate his pie, took a shower, then glanced over the sheets sitting on the coffee table. The melody was strong, it was good work. It was from this place, where he wished to stay. It had nothing to do with Julia across the bay or her parents just to the southeast. It had to do with sunsets, and with the woman who stood at the sink, washing dishes.

"Okay, well, I'll be back, maybe in an hour and a half. We need anything?"

"Just some milk." Sunshine turned off the water, then faced him. "I love you."

His appointment would last fifty minutes, and if he stopped at the store down the street, he could be home in just over an hour. He wanted her again, wanted to shove as much of this place into him to hold them both for what waited in the vacuous hellhole to the south. "I love you too honey. Whatcha gonna do?"

"There's a yoga class at eleven. If I'm not home when you get back, I'll be there."

He kissed her, then held her close. "Don't overwork yourself."

"Gotta work off that pie," she laughed.

He could feel the back of her ribcage, but said nothing. "I need to find out where Julia got it. Best peach pie I've ever had."

"Go on Phil, you're gonna be late," she smiled.

"Yeah, okay." He kissed her again, then was out the door.

" _Hey Julia, well, we made it, back in record time. One long drive, wham bam thank you ma'am, and she's sleeping now, she's, uh, I dunno. If I could've hog-tied her up there, but my shrink gave me some names for down here. They'll probably drive me up the wall. At least up there I felt I was making some headway. Down here, no heads to be found._

" _So anyways, we're home, lawn looks like shit, but at least the house is clean. I never thanked you properly for that, even if you wouldn't wash my shorts." Laughter. "No really, thank you. I mean, well, thanks Julia. Thanks."_

" _Hey Phil, glad you're there, well, really I'm not. I wish you were still in Berkeley, are you gonna keep that house? You never said. So, is she enrolled in school? Are you still making music? I wanna hear those songs Gideon, I mean it. I think it's great that you're gonna try to see someone down there, I mean, I think you should. Better you than me." A chuckle. "Really Phil, it's good for you to get that sorted. I wish, I mean, I hope she can manage. I wasn't gonna say anything while you guys were here, but now that you're not..." A giggle. "She looked really, well, vulnerable, but not like before. She looked so young, so much like how she might've looked a long time ago." A throat is cleared. "Phil, you're not the one who needs a shrink, we all know that. You're the most together out of all of us, and that's the truth. You're always telling me I fudge things, but that's one of the most God-honest things I know, have ever known. I don't care what the shrink tells you, they're fulla shit, just want the business. Really, you're okay Phil. I wish I could say that for the rest of us, but I mean it, you're fine. If you see one or you don't, you're gonna be okay. I, oh God, I didn't mean to go off on some tangent, shit! Okay, that's all. I love you. Talk to you later, bye!"_

" _Hey, uh, Ray, Julia, I just wanted to let you know that I, uh, she's gone. We got into a huge fight last night, and she, uh, I don't know where the hell she is. I'm gonna stay here through the weekend. If she's not back by Monday, I'm coming north. She left all her stuff, notebooks, everything. I, uh, just can't take it anymore. I nearly called the shrink, but didn't. I did call the landlord, the Berkeley house's still vacant. Gonna just stay there, so don't worry about clearing your sofa." Small laughter. "I mean, at least not yet. If I get drunk at your house again, well, we'll worry about it when I cross that bridge. I'm ready to cross some bridge, I'll tell you. Okay well, heads-up. I might see you this coming week. Yeah, okay, yeah. Bye."_

" _Hey Julia? Hey, I'm, uh, here, just got in. Well, actually I'm down the street at the phone booth. But yeah, listen, if you get this and wanna come over, go ahead. I, uh, need to talk to someone. Bye."_

"So did she ever come back for her books?"

"Not that I know of." Phil stood, then looked at the cherry pie on the counter. He cut a slice, eating it standing up. "She has a key and I told Gordon just to keep an eye on the place for the next week or so."

"You going back down there?"

"Yeah, in about ten days. If she hasn't come back, I'm packing up her stuff, will leave it with Gordon. He said he had room in his garage, I'll give him a little money, you know."

"Phil, are you really that serious?"

He swallowed, then set the unfinished piece on the counter. "I can't take this anymore."

"You said anything yet to Helen and Daniel?"

Phil blinked away a few tears. "Julia, there's something I haven't told you. Grandpa, he's, uh..."

She stood, then wrapped him close. "No, don't say it."

"Prostate cancer, they only just told me, and it's not good."

Julia sobbed, soaking through Phil's t-shirt. "Oh no! No Phil, no!"

He nodded. "I'm gonna give her through the end of October. If she's not back by then, if I haven't heard anything from her, I'm going to Columbus. I don't know how long he's got, but I need to be with them, with him." Phil wiped both their faces, then gripped her again. "I can't take her anymore, I mean, I'd give my right arm to make her better, you know that, you know I would!"

"I know you would."

"But I can't help her, or now him, shit!" Phil inhaled, then blew his nose into his sleeve. "Shit, no Kleenex, no napkins, no paper towels. Okay, I gotta make a list."

"Phil, listen, I know you like it here, but why don't you stay with us for a few days?"

"Because here I don't have a phone yet."

"What?"

He looked at her. "If she calls, she'll call you. Better that way Julia."

"What about Helen and Daniel?"

"I'm getting a new line in this week. I'll give them the number. But I can't talk to her right now. I just can't."

Julia nodded. "Okay, yeah, sure. That's fine. We'll run interference. Phil, I love you. What else can we do?"

"Nothing," he said, scribbling grocery items. "Let's see, toilet paper, milk, juice, what else?"

"What?"

"Julia, what else do I need?"

She stared at him. "A break."

He laughed. "Yeah, okay, a break. Got it. Oh, eggs."

"Phil?"

"Yeah?"

"Look at me Phil."

"What Julia?"

"You need to go to Ohio now, today. Well, tomorrow. Ray and I'll make sure the phone gets installed. I don't want you going back down there. I want you to go to Columbus."

"Julia..."

"Phil, I mean it. Sunshine can just deal with it. She doesn't know, does she?"

"No, she does."

"She does?"

"Yup. One of the reasons, or so she said, for getting fucked up again."

Julia slammed her hands against her thighs. "That stupid fucking cunt!"

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly," Phil said, still writing items on the list.

Julia approached him, taking his pen. "Phil, look at me. You can't do this anymore. She's the one who needs the shrink, but you need to go to Columbus. Phil, please, he needs you, Helen needs you. And honey," she said, stroking his face. "You need them. You need reality, even if it is shitty. Not California, certainly not fucking Los Angeles. Please, for me? If not for them, will you fly to Columbus for me?"

He shook, then smiled. "Fly to Florida for you, now Columbus. Anything else you want?"

"Hug him for me." Then Julia burrowed into Phil's chest. "Tell him I love him, oh God, please Phil. Please tell him how much I love him, Helen too!"

Phil only stood because Julia held him upright. "Okay honey, sure, I'll tell him. I'll tell him."

" _Hey, just wanted you to know I'm here, and thanks, from all of us, for being such a pushy... Well, I'd say something else, but Grandma's tapping her foot. Listen, if she calls, don't tell her where I am. I don't want her calling here, although she probably will. But at least for a few days, or weeks, or months." Laughter. "Who knows how long?"_

" _Hey Helen, Phil, Daniel. Just a friendly Californian, wanting you to know we send lots of love. Glad you're gonna have turkey there Phil, but we'll miss you. I, uh, wrote you a letter. Now, don't fall off your chair. I got bored, and, well, I'm not writing anything else at the moment, so consider yourself graced with my virtual presence. Okay so we'll chat, hopefully in person, and if not, then soon. Bye!"_

" _Hey Julia, got your letter. Or really, your memoir. If you never actually finish that novel and if I outlive you, I'll publish the behemoth that probably put the postman's back in traction. So, what can I tell you? Grandpa's sleeping right now, Grandma's at the store. What she told him, really it's a support group for widows-to-be. Those are her words, she's taking this pretty well. He's not, and what I mean is that he's in denial. Which I guess is to be expected. I'm not fazed, I've been living in denial for what, three years now? Three or four, when did I have Thanksgiving at your house, shit, that was '85, and I'd been seeing her for what, two years already? I've been in denial for five years Julia, pretty damn dumb of me. But you were right, I needed to be here, and yeah, she called a few nights back, said she had something to tell me, but she was so wired, it'll never change. I told her I wasn't coming back, told her Gordon had her stuff. She hadn't even gone looking for it yet. Shit! It's over, it really is. I can't do this anymore, and I won't. I told Grandma everything except about the baby. She only nodded, told me I was a good boy, like I was ten again. Maybe she'll always see me like some helpless kid. Anyways, at least she knows most of it. Grandpa asked, I told him we were split up, he's not asked anything else. Julia, shit. Listen, I'll, uh, be here till after Christmas, then probably come back there, get the rest of my stuff moved up to Berkeley. I'm not gonna keep two houses, that's just stupid. I'm tired of being stupid Julia, been dumb for too fucking long. Okay so that's the plan. I'll call you at your folks, wanna chat with Chuck for a minute. Better that Grandpa goes first, you know, he is older than your dad. Better this way Julia, better this way."_

" _Hey Phil, it's me. Listen, I, uh, got a call from her today, and if you could call me, like soon, that'd be great. Thanks. Uh, hi Helen, hi Daniel. Hope you all have a great turkey day!"_

" _Hey Julia? I'm at home, in LA. Listen, I, uh, she's here Julia. She's in the bedroom. She's, uh, Julia, pick up please. Julia? She, uh, she's dead. Please pick up?"_

" _Phil, shit, are you there? Listen, Ray's making arrangements, we'll be down there as soon as we can. Phil, whatever you do, don't move. Don't go in there Phil. Phil? Phil, please pick up baby! Phil?"_

"Julia?"

"Phil? Oh my God, oh Phil, Jesus Christ!"

"I called 911. Julia, she shot herself."

"Oh Phil, no fucking way!"

"Julia, she knew about Dad. I just told her, God, in Berkeley, just weeks ago, months I guess. Julia, she knew that's how he died."

"Oh Phil!"

"Julia, she, uh, she's all over the wall. I found her, maybe she'd just done it. I was too late Julia, too late."

"Phil, listen, just stay right where you are. Just wait for the cops. Jesus fucking Christ. Just sit there and I swear, we'll be right there. Oh God! Phil, Phil?"

"Julia, she was pregnant."

" _What?"_

"She was pregnant. She sent me a letter two weeks ago, told me she was pregnant, that's why I came back here. Said she was gonna keep it, in the letter you know. She wrote that even if things between us weren't gonna last, she was gonna keep the baby."

"Phil, are you fucking shitting me?"

"She looks it, I mean, she's lying on the bed and..."

"Phil, Jesus Christ! Just stay there. No wait, as soon as they take her away, go over to Gordon's. Is Gordon home?"

"I, uh, I dunno."

"Phil, listen to me and do exactly as I say. As soon as the cops arrive, just let them deal with it. You go over to Gordon's and stay right there. Ray and I'll be in LA sometime tonight. Phil, you listening to me?"

"She shot herself just like Dad did Julia, right through the temples."

"Okay Phil, I hear you. Phil, repeat what I just said."

"Okay Phil I hear you."

"No Phil, before that. What are you gonna do when the cops show up?"

"Go to Gordon's after they leave. Stay at Gordon's till you get here."

"Okay Phil, that's good. Now, what are you gonna do?"

"Sit here until the cops arrive. Then go to Gordon's after they're gone."

"Okay Phil, good. I love you Phil. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I love you too Julia. Hey Julia?"

"Yeah?"

"She was gonna have our baby and she shot herself just like Dad did."

"I know Phil, I know and I am so sorry honey. Just sit tight, okay?"

"Uh-huh. Okay Julia."

"Okay Phil. Phil?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you Phil. Promise me you'll be at Gordon's when I get there."

"I promise Julia. I promise."
Chapter 7

"Here Grandpa, let me help you." Phil lifted Daniel's shrunken frame forward as the old man coughed.

"Oh Phil, good grief." Daniel spat into the sheet, then shuddered. "Where's that damn bowl?"

"Julia," Phil called. "We're waiting!"

"Coming!" She ran into the bedroom, the small plastic container dripping in her hands. "Gonna get the bedding wet."

"Not gonna make any difference honey, I just spat into it." Daniel heaved, but nothing emerged. "It's over, let me lay down."

Phil eased his grandfather onto the pillow. The bed's angle wasn't quite horizontal, and Daniel closed his eyes. "Dying," he muttered. "What a thing. Sometimes I wish it was over already."

Phil and Julia sat on opposite sides, Phil grasping Daniel's withered hand while Julia clutched the vomit bowl. She looked into it, then set it on the open edge of the bedside table.

Daniel hadn't wanted to die in a hospital. Between Phil, Julia, Helen, and some volunteers, he would get his wish. Julia stared at Daniel, then at his grandson; they shared the same oval faces, same noses, same... weariness. But Julia hoped to never see Phil this debilitated, at least not until he was an old, dying man.

Over the last year she had witnessed several moments when Phil longed to be deceased, but there he sat, in as much pain as last Thanksgiving, nearly a year since Sunshine. Julia sighed; he looked no better, if not worse. But the trembling man lying in bed was now much of the reason for Phil's aching face, stooped shoulders, and stilled hands. Phil hadn't touched his father's guitar since Sunshine killed herself, taking another of Phil's babies with her.

Julia considered that as two fathers spoke in hushed tones. Not that the men knew the same levels of pain, but the essence was similar. Daniel knew because Phil had told him. Helen knew as well, for Sunshine's death and Phil's other loss had gone hand in hand all over the tabloids. Stan Gideon's tragic suicide stalked Phil nearly thirty years later, but this time, no offspring had been left behind.

It had been mawkish, sensationalistic, and crappy; Julia had wished to shield Phil, also this man and Helen. None of them had escaped _The National Enquirer_ or _The Star_. Even _People Magazine_ had noted Phil's history. Guns N' Roses had been mentioned, what with Axl Rose's girlfriend the niece of Phil Everly, for whom Phil was named. But Phil's best friend had managed to avoid the spotlight, for which all were relieved. If Julia Penn had been broached, Laura Riley would have too, providing Arthur and Claire a chance to raise their allegations. Instead it was all about Phil and Stan, familial suicides screamed from grocery store checkout aisles.

The Los Angeles house had been packed, all of Phil's belongings shipped north. Sunshine's possessions remained in an LA storage facility, Julia, Liz, and Diane having taken that task. As far as Julia knew, Phil hadn't stepped foot in that house once crossing the street for Gordon's place. She and Ray had arrived to police tape sealing Phil's front door, a crowd of press and onlookers filling the street. No one knew Phil was fifty feet away, sitting in Gordon Decker's recliner, or that Phil was nearly dead himself.

Julia gazed at two men separated by years, but like father and son. Phil had essentially been raised by Daniel and Helen, and after Jo-Jo's death, grandparent and grandson were only titles. Stan rested in his son through green eyes and music, but Daniel had provided the constancy and love, and Julia wished to weep for them both. Instead she cleared her throat, stood, then kissed Daniel's pointy scalp. "Gonna get rid of the, well, I think you puked a little."

He chuckled. "More's in the sheet."

"I'll change it before Grandma gets back," Julia said.

Phil nodded and Daniel smiled. "You know, she loves hearing that."

"What, that I'm changing the bedding?"

Julia giggled as she left, but Daniel's small nod spoke the truth. Julia still had a hard time with reality, but since Sunshine died, it didn't hurt as much as before.

"He asleep?" Julia asked as Phil stepped into the kitchen.

"Yeah. Grandma call?"

Julia nodded. "I told her to take her time."

"Good. Hey, that really means a lot, what you said to him."

She smiled. "I can't help it. When I'm here, they're Grandma and Grandpa. Makes Dad and Mom happy, you know?"

"I never thought about it. You call Lee _Mom_ , you call my grandparents, well..."

"Always looking for someone to love me," Julia smiled.

"Don't have to look far in Columbus."

"Phil, I'm sorry, you know?"

He sat across from her, clasping her hand. "Just a shitty deal Julia. Nothing else to say."

She stared at him, he looked old. He was thirty, his birthday on Halloween marked by a cake Helen had baked and some chocolate ice cream. Ray had flown out, and Julia felt as if in a time warp, maybe how Phil had celebrated his birthdays after he was thirteen, and Jo-Jo was dead. From then onwards, Phil only had Daniel and Helen, and in turning thirty, he was losing... Julia squeezed Phil's fingers, then wiped a tear. "So, what do you want for dinner?"

"I, uh, don't care. Whatever you and Grandma decide."

Julia squeezed again. She hadn't heard the songs he wrote last summer in Berkeley, three of which he had told her about; were there others? Stan's guitar wasn't in Columbus; it resided at the Berkeley rental house that Lee and Chuck still monitored. Julia could imagine them driving through neighborhoods, arriving at Phil's house. Chuck would get out, gripping his bottle of oxygen, grousing about hauling it everywhere. He would peer down the street, using years of experience to ascertain if the coast was clear. Not much to note in Phil's neck of the woods, only that the mail was collected, lights turned on and off. Phil's possessions and Stan's guitar and memorabilia waited in that house, where Phil would live sometime in early 1990, which was just six weeks away. Phil and Julia would leave Columbus, flying west together. They would be back, as Helen was spritely and had no intentions of dying anytime soon. Between the women it was whispered that Helen wanted to hold a great-grandchild and she wasn't expecting Julia to do the honors.

But Julia said none of that to Phil. He wasn't over Sunshine, which was perfectly normal. Sandwiched alongside her death sat the aching man in the master bedroom, and Julia was content to let Phil take his time. He was only thirty, for God's sake, and Helen wasn't in any hurry.

Julia fought her smile. Phil's face was drawn; he needed to get laid and he needed Berkeley. He could set down roots there, what with his quaint rental house, his competent shrink, his sunsets and corner grocery store. There were few reminders of Sunshine in the North Bay; she hadn't made much of an impression, or at least not to Julia. She had been checking on Phil's house for a time, and never felt anything of Sunshine Galveston in that place, but maybe Phil would. He said he hadn't, not in the least. Julia wasn't sure if he was lying; maybe her ease with truth had stolen some of Phil's honesty. Maybe he would be the one with a need for fallacy.

"I'll make creamed tuna on toast, that okay?"

"What?"

"For dinner, shit on a shingle," Julia laughed. "That's what Dad always called it."

"What in the hell is creamed tuna on toast?"

She looked through the cupboards. Tins of tuna sat alongside cans of Folgers's coffee, Campbell's soup, all the staples of Phil's childhood, Julia's too. "Do you mean to tell me you've never eaten shit on a shingle?"

"Julia..."

"I know, doesn't sound very appealing." She set two cans of tuna on the counter. "Tuna in a cream sauce, spread over toast. It's really very nice."

"Uh-huh."

"Actually, it's Liz's favorite. Call and ask what she had every year on her birthday. Well, until Mom and Dad started splurging, taking us to McDonalds. Tuna on toast, I bet you ten bucks that's what she'll say."

"Tuna on toast. Right."

Julia grabbed the canister of flour from along the wall. "I just need some milk and salt and..." She turned to see Phil bent over the table, his arms supporting his head.

His sobs were muffled by his hands, and she sat beside him. "Hey baby, I love you. Oh Phil!"

"Julia, I, I..."

"Let it out honey. Just let it out."

He didn't break down often, but the oddest thing would set him off. Tuna on toast, what had that signified? Maybe Sunshine had eaten it, cheap comfort food. Betty Galveston had probably made it, the only solace Sunshine ever knew. "Phil, oh honey, c'mere."

In Julia's arms Phil began to wail, accompanied by hushed tremors, and Julia gripped him, but not with force. She couldn't squeeze this grief from him, had to let it emerge however he was able. It wasn't only Sunshine, or Daniel. It was Stan, Jo-Jo, and babies, everything Phil had calmly sorted and slotted. The great ease of Phil Gideon had been shaken, like a Pepsi, then opened to blow. Julia felt coated with sticky-sweet soda, but all she would have to do was wash herself clean. It was easy for her to set aside, except for how much she ached in Phil's stead.

As if he couldn't hurt enough, as if no pain could ease his heartache, one hurt had been exchanged for another, and Julia nodded, as if Phil had spoken. He merely wept, with no words. A few times he had dissolved like this and Julia stared at the tuna. Maybe they would have something else for dinner.

He pulled away, then stood, not looking at the cans. He took a Pepsi from the fridge. There was more soda in that appliance than Julia thought was good, but better Pepsi than beer. "Hey, listen, I'll make grilled cheese instead."

She started to put the tuna away, but he stopped her. "After he's gone, I'm leaving."

"We'll both head west. You won't be alone."

Phil shook his head, then sipped the soda. "No, I mean, I need to be alone."

"Phil..."

He chugged the rest, choked, then caught his breath. "I'll be back, just need to, uh, find myself."

He set the empty can next to the tuna, then pushed them all in Julia's direction. "Make shit on a shingle. I wanna try it."

"It's not that great Phil."

"Does it really taste like caca?"

"No," she giggled.

"All right then. Grandma probably made it for me, just called it something else."

"I can't imagine Helen saying shit on a shingle."

Phil had a small smile. "Neither can I."

For the rest of Daniel's life, Phil ate a lot of creamed tuna on toast. Helen had never made it, but Julia was an expert, and it was featured at least once a week, sometimes twice. It was never served as leftovers, but Julia could whip up a batch at a moment's notice, often how their lives were lived. Phil slept on the sofa, Julia in the guest room, Helen on a small rollaway mattress alongside her husband. They spent Thanksgiving together, then Ray joined them for Christmas. In January of 1990, Daniel Reese died in his grandson's arms, and by February, Phil had hit the road.

He returned to Los Angeles, spending time with Guns N' Roses as the band recorded their follow-up to _Appetite for Destruction_. When those sessions turned rancorous, Phil traveled to Mexico, spending much of the spring along the Pacific Coast. His contact with family was sporadic, but a few messages snuck through.

" _Hey Julia, Ray, just wanted to let you know I'm alive. I'm, uh, standing at a phone booth, uh, in the middle of some street party. I think it's a party, maybe's it a parade. Hey, I think I might stay down here, even though my Spanish is mierda. That's shit, you know. Lately when people ask my name, I tell them it's Mierda. They laugh, I laugh, we're all having a whale of a time!"_

" _Hey there, it's Mierda. Just calling to say I'm making a run for the northern border. Good thing I don't need a passport. Hey Julia, make me some of that shit, you know, mierda on a shingle. I think I need to see a doctor. I don't feel so well."_

" _Hey, it's me. Guess what? I picked up crabs, isn't that cool? I've never had crabs before. Sort of like shit on a shingle. Well, not really. But not as bad as dysentery, at least not as messy. Sort of like, well, uh, you probably don't wanna hear this. Ray, you ever get the crabs? No, don't answer that. Julia'll be pissed."_

" _Hey, guess where I am? I'm standing in Gordon Decker's living room, looking at my house. It looks like mierda. Willow tree's dead, grass's all brown, blinds are pulled. She loved those blinds, thought it looked so modern. Mo-dern, she pronounced it mo-dern, then she'd laugh, my God Julia. She shot herself in that goddamn house in the same fucking way that Stan did. Why'd she do that, I mean, not shoot herself, but was she thinking? Maybe she wasn't. Maybe it was a coincidence, at least to do it like Stan did. She never knew, until I told her, that that was how he died, I mean, not big news twenty-some years later, not to a girl who thought creamed tuna on toast was big eating. I wonder if she ever ate shit on a shingle. Betty's alive, I could go ask her, say: Hey Betty, after Dick got done molesting Sunshine, you ever fix her creamed tuna on toast, you know, just to make her feel better?"_

" _Hey Julia, I'm, uh, still at Gordon's. He and I are going over to the storage shed in about ten minutes, gonna poke through her stuff. I know, I know: Don't do that Phil. You're only torturing yourself Phil. But I like torturing myself Julia. Been hanging around you for long enough." Laughter. "Hey Julia, you realize we've known each other ten years now? Ten years, and I could've been a father twice over if Sunshine hadn't been so fucked up. She was fucked up Julia, but I loved her. I really did. That's why I'm gonna go through her stuff. I don't wanna love her anymore. I love her, I hate her, about the same as Axl and Erin; I didn't go to their wedding, now they're already separated. Good thing I never sent them a present, would've been a waste. Sunshine was a waste of my time, of five years, no, six. Wait. Was it five or six? I met her in... '83, was it '83? Maybe. I can't remember. A long time, too long to be hanging out with a junkie. I was just hanging out with a goddamn junkie, you realize that? A fucking stripper junkie piece of mierda. That's all she was Julia. That's all she ever was."_

" _Hi Gordon, this's Julia Penn. Listen, when you and Phil get back, would you call me? Not Phil, just you. Thanks Gordon, bye."_

Julia was washing dishes in Phil's Berkeley kitchen when he returned from his appointment. He had gone, under duress, but Julia could be convincing. Or just a bitch if he didn't do as she said.

Now that she was thirty as well, Phil had found her somewhat irritating. Maybe she was mad he had missed her birthday while partying in Mexico. He had sent her a large colorful sombrero, which now hung along the wall right around the corner from her bathroom, in an apartment across the bay. As Phil set his keys and wallet on the kitchen counter, he thought about that placement. "Thanks for doing the dishes. Hey, did you hang that hat outside your bathroom for a reason?"

"No, why?"

"I dunno." He leaned against the counter, noting how clean it was. Julia came over every few days, and most of her time was spent scouring his house, although hers wasn't all that tidy. "So, is Ray working?"

She nodded, then looked at him. "How'd the appointment go?"

"Oh, same old shit. Pokes and prods, nothing doing. I should stop going, just wasting my time and his. And my money, but there's plenty of that."

Phil sighed, staring at the peach pie on the counter. A slice and a half remained, he thought, or one big one. "You want some pie?"

"No, I don't want some pie."

Her tone was clipped, but Phil ignored it. "All right then, I'm gonna eat it all." He leaned over, grabbing a fork from the drawer. "You know, it's more a waste of time, his time. Not that I'm doing anything productive. Maybe I'll just quit, free up that hour for some other basket case. God knows there's enough of them up here."

Julia continued washing the dishes.

"Yeah, I mean..." His mouth was full. "God this's great pie. But what the fuck? Really, you know. What the hell?"

"I don't know Phil. What the hell indeed."

He laughed. "Shit Julia, what?"

She rinsed the last plate, setting in the drainer. Then she removed gloves only used when she visited. They were placed over the faucet, then she glared at him. "You are such an asshole."

Her tone was smooth, and he smiled. "Yes I am. I'm the biggest fuck-up in the world." He ate another bite, then set down the pie tin. "Actually, no, I take that back. Steven Adler is a bigger fuck-up than me."

"Who the hell is Steven Adler?"

"You know, Steve, in the band. Axl kicked him out 'cause he was doing too much smack. He would've kicked out Slash too, but shit, you take Slash outta the picture, what the fuck's left?"

"You're not only an asshole, but a dumbshit Phil."

"Oh really?"

"You have more talent in your little finger than those dickheads combined, and here you are eating my pie, wasting my time talking about shit-for-brains metal heads and I, I, I..."

"You what Julia?"

"I hate your fucking guts, that's what!"

He laughed as she stomped from the kitchen, gathering her purse. "You're fulla shit Julia. You love me, you always will."

He picked up the pie, taking a large bite. She stood at the front door, and he heard her open it. Then she paused.

"Go ahead, leave," he said. "I don't care. What the fuck does it matter now?"

He couldn't see her, but knew she was still there.

"Huh? What does it matter Julia? She's dead, Grandpa's dead, Stan's dead, Jo-Jo, my babies, what in the fucking hell does anything matter?"

She poked her head around the corner, long blonde hair loose around her face, which was red, eyes wide, her mouth gaping. "You are just like Arthur and Claire, you little shitface."

He had swallowed, then began to choke. Pie was wedged halfway down his windpipe and for the first time since finding Sunshine's warm corpse, Phil was afraid. He didn't want to die choking on pie, and he coughed violently, then bent over. Julia hadn't moved, and Phil kept choking until finally he forced the pie loose, swallowing it properly.

He took several breaths, then stared at her. "Shit Julia! Weren't you gonna help me?"

"You don't want my help Phil. You don't wanna do anything but wallow in, well, shit."

"Fuck you bitch!" He stumbled into the kitchen, getting a glass of water.

The slap emerged just as he took the cup from his lips. Phil spat water all over his shirt and the sink. "What the hell?"

"You, you, you asshole, stupid shithead! I hate you, I really hate you!"

"You hate me? Oh, that's rich. Fine. You hate me, I hate her, whatever Julia, _whatever_!"

"I hate you Phil Gideon or shall I just call you Arthur, C and A, Mr. Riley, Mr. and Mrs. Hold Everything Over My Head. Move to Florida Phil, you'll love the weather."

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"You hate her, well, that's great. You're no different than Arthur and Claire. They hate Dad, they hate me. You hate Sunshine, you turn into an asshole. You already are an asshole Phil, and I hate assholes!"

"Julia..."

"No, it's the same fucking bullshit. They say Dad killed Laura, you believe Sunshine killed the baby. And herself, and yeah, she did, but Stan killed himself and you never say that Grandpa or Grandma blamed him. Maybe Jo-Jo did, we'll never know, but they didn't. Now maybe it was because they had you, but now you don't have anyone so you feel like you can just hate her all you want. But let me tell you this, you keep hating her, you'll never recover. You'll be just like Arthur and Claire, plastic fucking covers on your sofa, on Stan's guitar. You'll never play music again, you'll never feel anything Phil. How the hell can you feel anything when all you feel is hatred?"

"Shut up Julia!"

"No, I will not shut up. I know it was shitty, Christ! No fucking duh Phil. But Sunshine loved you, she did. Stan loved your mother too Phil, and he loved you. He didn't kill himself because he hated you, Helen told me so. She told me..."

" _Shut up Julia!"_

She stood back, Phil's arm wavering in the air. One more second and he would have struck her, probably could have knocked her to the floor. He had bruised her once, when Sunshine left, small scattered marks along Julia's backside caused by deep sorrow. Now he exuded fiery rage. "Get the fuck outta here before I hurt you Julia. I'll do it too."

"Will you Phil? Would you really hit me?"

He dropped his arm to his side. "Maybe. I dunno. Maybe I would."

"You won't. I wouldn't let you."

She remained within his reach and he laughed. "Oh yeah?"

"I'd kick you so hard in the balls you wouldn't move for a week."

"Do it. I need it, I don't wanna feel anything."

She didn't reach for him. "I know you don't. So much easier to hate her that way."

"Fuck you," he shrugged.

"We can. Maybe that'll be the end of us. We'll have sex and I'll never see you again."

He stared at her, realizing she wasn't completely kidding. "Just go home. Ray needs you."

"Ray's at work. You need me."

"I don't need to fuck you."

"You need to stop hating her."

"I can't, shit!" He threw up his hands. "Leave, please. I don't wanna end up hating you too."

"Phil, it's okay to be angry. She really fucked you over, no joke. But honey, she wasn't any more in control of herself than my mother was, standing on the sidewalk. She had no time to get outta that car's way, she wasn't any more than a sitting duck. How can they blame my dad? How can you blame her Phil, how?"

"She was pregnant Julia! She was pregnant with our baby and she fucking shot herself in the goddamn head! How do you think?"

"She was wired Phil, the autopsy..."

"The autopsy! You wanna know what the autopsy said? It said she had a four and a half month old fetus inside her, a daughter. We were gonna have a daughter Julia, but she killed that baby, she _murdered_ her. Sunshine killed herself and murdered our daughter. That's what the autopsy said Julia, I've got a copy of it in my bedroom."

"Phil, she was high. She was so high baby."

"She was coked out, yup she sure was. Wired and knocked-up and how would you know how that feels, huh? You don't even want kids!"

Phil stepped around her, or he would knock her down. He stood in the middle of the tiny living room. "Get out now and don't come back. Don't fucking tell me how to live my life, don't stand there and tell me not to hate her fucking guts. She was a cunt, a lying, thieving bitch. You want more? I'll tell you whatever you want but I want you outta here."

"Phil, don't do this..."

"She did this Julia. She killed her own goddamn self just like my father did, Christ! Now get the fuck out!"

Julia stiffened, then went to say something. Instead of speaking, she tossed back her hair, then headed for the door. It didn't slam behind her, but the certainty with which the latch caught signified to Phil that another death had occurred.
Chapter 8

Phil stood along the Golden Gate Bridge, looking down into the bay. His Honda was parked at the vista point, and he had walked all the way to the middle of the span, tourists and locals passing by. Phil stared into the water; he could slip over the railing, landing with a heavy splash, before anyone could stop him.

Suicide had never been contemplated, until Sunshine left the first time. Then Phil possessed an understanding of what his mother had suffered, but not what had driven his father to shoot himself. Phil's dad had set a gun to his right temple, then pulled the trigger. Phil wasn't sure if Stan had died before reaching the floor, no one knew that.

The accepted details were that at noon on Wednesday, the sixteenth of December, 1959, Stan Gideon had argued with his manager. The men were overheard discussing the rights to Stan's songs, which Larry Jerrold wanted to buy from Stan, but that Stan wouldn't sell. The quarrel was vociferous, a dispute long in coming from an older man toward a young but wary musician. Stan Gideon was only twenty-one, but like his contemporary Buddy Holly, Gideon was savvy. Since Holly's death earlier that year, Stan had felt even more circumspect, wishing to safeguard his music for his wife and their tiny son, named for an artist Stan worshipped. The baby was mentioned several times, witnesses recalled. Phil's birthright was what a father longed to protect, and Stan wouldn't dream of offering his music for money up front.

His suicide later that evening, in the back of a club far away from Jo-Jo and baby Phil, stunned the recording world, still reeling from the plane crash in which Buddy Holly had been killed. After a stirring performance in Cincinnati, Stan stepped into the back of the club, called his wife, telling Jo-Jo that he loved her. Bystanders heard his side of the conversation, a young man sounding tired but looking forward to the upcoming Christmas break. Stan was taking two weeks off, and would spend that time with his wife's family in Columbus. He wanted to get to know his infant son, a child unplanned but deeply cherished, as was the boy's mother. What witnesses remembered from Stan Gideon's last call was his earnest, gentle voice. Those soft murmurs wafted as others waited to use the pay phone, then only moments later, a gunshot exploded from Gideon's dressing room. Then his silent form was found on floor.

If Phil jumped, his body might not be recovered. What would that do to his grandmother, to Julia... Fuck Julia, Phil grunted. He hadn't spoken to her since she left, had been glad to see her go. All that crap about Sunshine was just a bunch of shit, and as inexplicable as Stan's suicide. Phil still didn't understand his father's death. What he had learned, via Sunshine, was his mother's despair.

How had Jo-Jo held on as long as she did? The cool Pacific breeze chilled Phil, who then turned, facing west. He didn't want someone to approach him, didn't want to be talked out of it. He could just tumble over the side... Why had Sunshine felt so, so, so, but then why had Stan? Jo-Jo was the only one Phil felt any connection to, his late mother's already shaky mental state so rocked by her husband's suicide that any other small blow would have sent her over the edge. She was living with Daniel and Helen when Stan died, better for her to reside with her parents than in some lonely apartment while Stan toured to promote the next hit. Jo-Jo never lived alone with her husband, had never moved from her parents' house. Phil had been conceived in that spare bedroom, spending his life sleeping on the sofa once he was four and too old to share his mother's room. That spare room had been Jo-Jo's until Phil was twelve and a half years old. Then it was his, a strange room, a place for ghosts. But Phil was an able, intelligent young man with a penchant for music, the only part of Stan he shared, besides those green eyes. Phil's green eyes took in the western edge of the Pacific, large and looming, like his loathing of Sunshine Galveston and the massive hole in Phil's heart.

He turned back to the railing, looking down again. The water was a long ways away; if he jumped, there would be no more anger, no more loneliness. No more Phil, and no more phone messages. He would never again hear Julia's voice, or his grandmother's, or Lee, Liz, Diane or even Chuck. But Chuck never called anyone, and Phil smiled. Chuck sat on the sofa, watching TV, collecting his policeman's pension, all the while repelling the great waves of venom sent from faraway Florida. How Chuck did that, Phil never pondered.

If Phil jumped, would Chuck be sad, would he even notice? Phil had never gotten in Chuck's way, but if Phil died, Chuck and Lee wouldn't drive over to Phil's house, giving Chuck something to do. Phil looked straight up at a blue sky. He turned around, noting the great height of the north tower, too orange and lofty to be real, which was how he felt about Sunshine, too much fury to be factual. Maybe she had never actually lived, maybe it was all a lie. Maybe Julia had made it up to piss Phil off, and he smiled. What about Julia?

If he jumped, she would be livid, _livid!_ Ray might leave her, she'd be such a bitch, and Phil chuckled, kicking his foot along the cement. Would serve her right, that turd; Phil felt no angst, no sorrow, no pity. Women were cunts, all of them, well, except his mother and grandmother, but Jo-Jo was dead and Helen was old. Lee was... Lee was Julia's mother, and Phil checked his resolve. Lee hadn't done any more than fall in love with a married man and get pregnant by him. How great was her guilt when Laura died? Carrying Chuck's child, Lee was caught in the middle of domestic turmoil, but was only a kid herself. Phil did the math; Lee was twenty-three or twenty-four when Laura was killed. Lee was younger than Sunshine, but pregnant like Sunshine, maybe the same gestation, four or five months along. More math, and Phil sighed. Both women were around five months, and both carried daughters. Liz had been born a few months before Sunshine, a few years after Julia. Laura ceased being Julia's mother, and Lee had stepped in.

Phil ached, then thought about practicalities. His car would need to be towed away, but the keys were in his pocket. He could walk back, leave the keys in it, but then someone might steal it, which would be more for Lee and Chuck to deal with. It would have to be Lee and Chuck because Helen was too far away and too old. Not Julia, too... Phil couldn't think about that. Liz and Diane were too young, so it would fall on Lee and Chuck, and neither of them needed any more crap. Which meant that Julia would end up taking care of it, because Julia wouldn't let her mom or dad handle this mess. Not that Phil's demise would leave a stain. Only what he left in his wake.

Sunshine had been strewn across the wall. She probably had looked like Phil's father, but that was also speculation. Phil hadn't seen Stan Gideon's remains, but he had witnessed Sunshine's, that small lump of a belly, the baby visible. He hadn't stepped inside that room after calling Julia, had done just as she told him, giving the cops a statement. His flight had circled LAX, waiting to land. If he had reached her on time, if he had driven faster... Julia chided him for living so far from the airport; what if he had lived closer?

What if he had found her just before she pulled the trigger, what if he'd held her, easing her fears? What if he'd told her how much he loved her, wanted their baby, what if... Phil felt sick, then stuck a hand in his pocket. The keys were cool and sharp. He took them out. He could set them here, marking his place. Someone would see what he was doing, once he got as far as sitting on the railing. Then, after he jumped, they would run toward him, maybe they would see him hit the water. Then they would find his keys. They would dangle them in their hand, maybe grip them, or just study the last piece of Phil Gideon before he hit the water.

Cops would return the vehicle, spreading the news. Cops and the media would handle that, and Phil winced, another round of tabloid fodder: _Son of dead singer jumps off Golden Gate Bridge. After the suicide of his father and pregnant, coke-addict girlfriend, one-hit wonder Phil Gideon destroyed the family of Julia Penn, a basket case herself. Penn, the daughter of late writer Laura Riley, hasn't been able to finish her novel. Now that her best friend is dead, will she ever write as well as her late mother, who according to Riley's parents, was murdered by Julia's father, Charles 'Chuck' Penn._

All that was speculation of course; who truly cared to seek the truth anymore? Phil gripped his keys; if he jumped, life, death, and pain were finished. If he didn't jump... He sighed. Julia would still be pissed at him, but eventually one of them would call the other, leaving some pithy message. Would he break first or she? He could hear her, as if she stood beside him, a phone in her hand: _Hey Phil, it's me. I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner. Ray bought a peach pie and I'm making shit on a shingle. Is it gonna be two cans of tuna or one? Call me back, so I know how much to make._

One can, Phil thought to himself, gripping the railing. One can baby, just one.

"Hey, what're you doing, hey, hey!"

"What?"

"Hey, are you gonna jump? Oh my God, help me, he's gonna jump!"

Her voice was frantic, and immediately Phil jerked from where his shoes had been planted between the rails. He hadn't made one single move and here was some wide-eyed young woman causing a scene.

Three men approached and Phil sighed. "No, I wasn't gonna jump, Christ! I just wanted to look. Can't people even fucking look out at the goddamn bay without being accosted?"

"Are you sure man?" the tallest one said. He had a moustache, and Phil tried not to smile, a lisp apparent in only those few words.

"Leave him alone Derek. If he wants to jump, it's his business."

"What? You assholes!" The woman shoved her way through them. She reached Phil, grasping his hand. "Listen, nothing's that bad, I mean it. I love you. You hear that? I love you."

"You don't even know who I am," Phil laughed.

"You're Phil Gideon," Derek said. "I have your first album."

"Jesus Christ!" Now Phil wished he had jumped.

"It's really great man, hey, wow, I can't believe it, Phil Gideon!"

"Who's Phil Gideon?"

"He is!" Derek pointed to Phil. "Shit, you're so, oh my God. Excuse Ron here, he's a moron."

"Shut up you assholes. Listen, I have no idea who you are but you can't jump. I love you, others do too."

"Derek loves him."

"Ron, I swear to Christ I'm gonna..."

"What's your name?" Phil asked the woman.

"Crystal. I'm Crystal. And you're..."

She stuck out her hand as Derek moved closer. "I told you he's Phil Gideon. God, can I have your autograph?"

Derek's friends groaned, then Derek did too as Crystal elbowed him hard in the gut. "You say one more word and I'll kick you in the crotch."

"Oh my God, oh my God!" Derek howled.

The proceedings had garnered a small crowd, even slowing traffic, making Phil wince. "Listen, I'm, uh, not Phil Gideon. I hear that all the time though." Then he looked at Crystal. What sort of name was that? "And I wasn't gonna kill myself, I promise."

He had said that to Julia, right after finding Sunshine. Sunshine, Crystal, stupid hippie names! "I mean it," he said to Derek and Crystal. "I'm not Phil Gideon and I'm not suicidal."

"Are you sure?" both asked.

"Yes, I'm sure. Listen, you can walk with me back to my car. My car's just at the vista point." He motioned toward the north end of the bridge. "Now, if I was gonna kill myself, I wouldn't have left my car here, what kind of idiot would leave their car in the parking lot? I would've called a cab or walked."

Derek and Ron nodded, their friend Trent in agreement. Crystal tapped her foot, just like Julia did, making Phil shake.

"I don't believe you," Crystal said. "I think you _were_ gonna jump off the bridge."

"If I was Phil Gideon, I'd jump," Ron said. "Crappy album, riding on the coattails of his dad. Jesus Derek, I don't know how you listen to such bullshit music."

"Plus I read his girlfriend killed herself, and his grandfather just died," Trent added.

"Where do you read this shit?" Derek had recovered, but steered clear of Crystal. "Listen, you really look like Phil Gideon, but if you're not him, no sweat."

"I'm not him," Phil announced, feeling somewhat offended, also relieved.

"Are you _sure_ you're not him?" Crystal said.

"Why? You don't even know who he is," Phil sighed.

"Well, if you are him, all the more reason to jump."

"I was not gonna jump off the fucking bridge, okay?"

"Okay, okay!" She backed away, still staring at him. She wore a bright print skirt and a white peasant blouse. Large hoop earrings made her look every inch a Crystal. Her eyes caught Phil's attention; blue, but not bright, not that she was stoned or drunk. They were the dull blue-gray of Julia's eyes, as if only wanting half the story. But like Julia, who had told Phil everything from their first meeting, this woman seemed to know him, or at least didn't believe him.

The men did, finally walking away. As the rest of the gawkers departed, Crystal remained. She still tapped her foot, but not in any apparent rhythm. Phil stared at her; she was small-chested, short, and waif-like. She probably sold beaded necklaces in Golden Gate Park when she wasn't accusing would-be bridge jumpers.

Now he wouldn't be able to do it, maybe he'd never again work up the guts. Instead he faced Hippie Girl, then started to laugh. "Listen, you need a lift somewhere? My car really is over there." Again he pointed to the parking lot.

"Yeah actually. I walked here, wasn't sure how I was gonna get back. You live in the City?"

"In Berkeley. But I can drive you home."

"Okay, sure. I wanna make sure you don't jump, not today."

"Okay." He started toward the parking lot, and she followed. Then she clutched his hand.

"Yeah?" he asked, feeling her warmth, a sensation not known since touching Sunshine's dead toes.

"I'd been watching you. You were gonna jump."

"Really?"

She nodded. "You'd been thinking about it for a while, maybe half an hour. I watch for people out here, sorta my job."

"Uh-huh. Like the city of San Francisco pays people to come spy on would-be suicides."

"I do it for free. Once a week."

"Whether we need it or not."

"See, you were gonna jump. I see it all the time."

"You always make such a scene about it?"

"Sometimes," she laughed, squeezing his hand. "But only with those I fall in love with."

"Oh Jesus." Phil stopped, then took his hand from hers. "Listen, I don't need this right now. Yeah, okay, I was thinking about it, just thinking, but I don't need some..."

"Creepy suicide watcher, I know, I've heard it before."

"Listen, uh, Crystal..." He had a hard time saying her name without smiling. "Crystal, I, uh, okay. I really am Phil Gideon and..."

"I know who you are, jeez!"

"You do?"

"Well yeah, you were all over the tabloids for like what, a month? Your grandfather died in January, a year after your girlfriend. I'm really sorry about that you know."

She spoke as if she knew all about him, which was comforting and somewhat eerie. "Uh, yeah, well, thanks, I mean..."

"Listen, I didn't know you were _Phil Gideon_ until that guy said something, what a putz! But then yeah, I knew you were really serious."

"Why'd you play dumb then?"

"Why'd think? To get those jerks to leave! Man, sometimes you guys are dolts, you know?"

Did she mean B celebrities, despondent souls, or just men in general? "Uh, okay, I guess."

"Listen, I want you to take me to your house. I'll get a cab from there. I wanna make sure you get home safely. Then, before I leave, I want you to make a phone call. I don't care to who, your best friend, your dealer, your priest, just somebody. You need to tell them what you did today, so I know you're gonna be looked after."

"This your line with every loony you accost?"

She smiled, gripping his hand. "Only the ones I love."

As they crossed the Bay Bridge she repeated that she loved him. Her voice wasn't fawning, but sincere, which Phil ignored. Once inside his house he did as he'd been directed. "Hey Julia, it's, uh, yeah, okay, so you won, but only under duress. Here at my house right now is uh, Jesus, Crystal. Crystal, uh, what's your last name?"

"Sullivan, Crystal Sullivan. Hi Julia!"

"Right. Okay, uh, Crystal Sullivan. So Julia, today I, uh..."

Crystal took the receiver. "Hi Julia. I'm Crystal. Today I found Phil trying to scale the Golden Gate Bridge, but not in a good way. He's home now and I'm just gonna say that I think he needs some help." Crystal handed the phone back to Phil, but instead of meeting his gaze, she stared at the floor.

"Uh, okay, well, yeah." Phil cleared his throat. "So, that's me. How are you and Ray doing?"

He said a few more words, then closed the call. Then Phil got himself some water, chugging the entire glass. He poured one for Crystal, who stood at the sliding glass door. "Here you go. She's gonna think I've lost my goddamn mind."

Phil held out the glass, but Crystal didn't turn his way. Brown hair hung to her shoulders, looking dirty, or maybe only windblown. "Uh, Crystal, you want some water?"

She shook her head, then turned to him. Tears ran down her face. "You were the closest one, do you know that?"

"What?"

"The nearest to the end. I'd been watching you, wasn't sure about it, but then some people got in my way. Then I noticed how you gripped the railing. You would've done it, and I only caught you by seconds. Seconds Phil, just seconds."

She was right and he trembled. Julia would give him hell about this, but somehow her future tirade was muted by this young woman's immediate sorrow. "It's okay, uh, Crystal." Her name continued to trip him, then Phil set the glass on the coffee table, taking her in his arms. "Really, I mean, you're right. I would've. God, please, don't cry. You saved my life today," he laughed. Tipping her face his way, Phil kissed the middle of her forehead.

"I was nearly too late."

"Well, you weren't. How's that for good timing?"

"I love you Phil. I love you, okay?"

"Sure, sure you do. And I love you too Crystal."

She nodded, then reached for his face. She didn't stroke his temples, only caressing the top of his cheek. Then she sighed. "Phil, whatever happens, please know I love you, okay?"

"Sure, you bet. Gotcha."

She nodded, then moved away, drinking the water. Phil could still feel her fingers along his face.

"Well, okay. Good. Listen, can I use your phone?"

"Uh, sure. Or I can take you home."

"No, you shouldn't be driving any more today. Actually, I should've driven. You're sorta..."

"What?"

"Erratic. I mean, it's to be expected."

"My driving was fine."

"It wasn't. You nearly hit a cat."

"Where?"

"Coming up your street. You nearly hit two."

Phil's anger returned, making him wish he had jumped. He wished one of Derek's friends had liked his record, then he laughed. Derek's friends were the smart ones. "Okay, whatever. Look, thanks for saving my life today. Really, I mean it. Thanks and uh, tell you what. Leave me your address." He handed her a pad of paper and a pencil. "Write it down and I'll send you a..." A copy of a crappy record? His autograph? What was he thinking?

"Phil, I meant it when I said I love you."

"Crystal..." His sigh was about more than her name. "You don't even know me."

"I know more than you think I do."

"Yeah?"

She fingered the rim of her glass, then took another sip. She set it on the coaster, then stepped his way. "Today I watched you trying to decide if your life was worth living. You kept looking over the railing, then toward the Pacific. That's what they usually do, like what would make it worth it, you know, worth getting up, going to work or whatever. I watched you trying to figure that out. You stood there for over half an hour, you were there when I showed up, goodness knows how long you'd been there before I arrived. No one waits that long. If they're gonna jump, they do it. Otherwise they lose their nerve."

"How'd you know I wasn't gonna back out?"

"Because I saw you had to think about it, which is more than most people." She sniffed, then wiped her face. "But then the way you gripped the railing, I knew you'd made up your mind. I wasn't gonna interfere until I absolutely knew, it's embarrassing, I mean, not to me, but to the person thinking about it. I never wanna embarrass them, they're already feeling bad enough as it is."

"Well, that's very thoughtful of you, uh..."

She smiled. "Crystal. I know, it's ridiculous. Crystal Karma, my parents were beatniks."

"I see," he chuckled.

"Yeah, but it helps with what I do. Gives people the sense of fate, someone stepping in, like an intervention. I wasn't gonna bother you until I knew, and then, man, those guys, what assholes! But it helped. You were pissed and thrilled, both. And then you hoped they would just go away."

"Yeah, I did."

"And you hoped I'd go away too, at first. Because you still wanted to jump off the bridge."

The way she said it sent chills down Phil's back. He had wanted her to leave, all of them. Those fans, well, one fan, and this woman, Crystal Sullivan. "You're right. I would've jumped today."

"I didn't know who you were, I mean, not all the details, until he said something. Then I really knew."

"It's, uh, been a bad few years."

"I'm sorry." She stood close, grasping his hand. Phil's heart raced, but he wasn't sure why.

"Well thanks Crystal. Really, it's a pretty name."

"Thanks Phil." She kissed his cheek. "Okay, well, I should let you go now."

But Phil didn't let her go. "Why'd you say you loved me? Do you tell everyone that?"

"No, I don't."

"Then why'd you tell me?"

"Because I do. I mean," she blushed, then looked at the floor. "I do love you."

"Why?"

She met his gaze. "Why'd you wanna jump today?"

"I, I dunno." He sighed. "It hurts. I was tired of it hurting."

"Phil, sometimes I hurt too. Sometimes I go there, hoping no one'll be waiting, because I just don't have it in me that day. But I go anyways and sometimes I'm lucky, nobody's lurking. Sometimes I'm not."

"How were you today?"

"Achy. At least until I saw you."

"Then what?"

"Then..." She giggled, drawing a deep breath. "Then I hoped, oh this sounds horrible. I hoped you'd be in the mood, because otherwise how was I gonna introduce myself?"

"Are you shitting me?"

"No," she smiled. "I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you."

"Do you fall in love with all the guys you meet like this?"

"Only the ones I'm meant to marry."

He chuckled nervously. "Is that a proposition?"

"It's just my way of telling you how I feel. Phil, I love you. I know I barely know you. But I also know what I watched today on that bridge. I didn't fall in love with you hoping to save your life, I can tell you that. But sometimes life changes just when you least expect it to. Like today, the last thing I wanted was to go to the bridge and have to talk somebody out of jumping. Then guess what? I meet the man I'm gonna marry. Just how it works out sometimes."

"You're gonna marry me Crystal?"

"Yeah, but only after you ask me."

"And when's that?" Phil smiled, standing very close to her.

"Well, probably not today. Today's been pretty busy already."

He reached for her face, setting his fingers along her temples. As when touching Julia there, nothing within Phil ached. "But what if I _do_ ask you today Crystal? Would you say _yes_?"

He wanted to kiss her first; if he kissed her and it was better than kissing Julia, Phil just might pop the question. If it was like kissing Sunshine, Phil might drive back to the bridge.

"Phil, kiss me. Then we'll both know."

He stared at her, tears pouring down his face. "I, I..."

Crystal kissed him softly on the mouth. Then their lips parted; as she probed gently, Phil tenderly set his palms along the aged fabric of her peasant blouse. Her skin was warm along her back, also from within as Phil was absorbed by a very precious spot in the universe, maybe an alternate reality.

As they stood entwined, Phil wanted to caress her temples. Crystal eased his hands there, as if reading his mind. She pulled away from his mouth, but set her hands on his. Phil nuzzled her brow, then pulled both sets of their hands to their sides. Then he led her into his room, closing the door behind them.

" _Phil, Phil? Phil, are you there? Hey asshole, pick up the goddamn phone! Phil, are you serious? Did you really go to the bridge? Who's this Crystal chick? Sounds like a goddamned airhead. Phil, Phil? Answer me you prick! Phil!"_
Chapter 9

" _Hey Julia, maybe you're in the shower right now. Listen, when you get here, I need you to tell Phil something for me. I just, I can't, I mean..." Nervous chuckles. "If you've already left, well, when you get home and listen to this, you can just let Ray guess what I needed you to tell Phil. See you soon, bye!"_

"Close the door Julia," Crystal giggled.

In the small upstairs bathroom, Julia did as she was told, then looked at the giddy woman leaning against the sink. "Okay Crystal. What is it?"

Julia could hear everyone downstairs; sound traveled in Phil and Crystal's house as if certain conversations were meant for specific rooms. From the upstairs bathroom Julia could clearly make out her mother and Phil's grandmother speaking about mashing potatoes. They were probably right under where Julia stood, watching Crystal fidget with her hair. The potatoes were nearly done, Lee remarked, Helen in agreement. But who would mash them?

Might Liz or Diane? It wasn't going to be Crystal or Julia, for they were busy. "Crystal, what'd you wanna tell me?"

Phil's wife turned to Julia, her face somber but beatific. "I'm gonna have Phil's baby."

"Oh my God!" Julia trembled, grateful for the wall to support her. "Are you sure?"

Crystal smiled, opening a drawer. She pulled out a Ziploc bag containing a white plastic stick, a visible thin blue line marking the stick. Julia stared at it as if ancient treasure had been unearthed. "I took a test this morning when Phil went to get Helen."

Julia handled the bag like the test stick was gold. "You haven't told him yet?"

"I can't. Will you do it?"

"Me?" Julia snorted, then stared again at the proof. The couple might have married two months after Phil almost jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge, but it had taken far longer for them to consider reproduction. Julia hadn't even known they were trying. "I can't tell him, it's your baby!"

She whispered, fearful that their words might carry as easily as Lee and Helen's. Liz was going to mash while Diane fixed the gravy. But where were Julia and Crystal, Helen asked.

"I can't tell him Julia, it means too much. Will you do it?"

Julia's eyes darted from the stick to Phil's wife, his _pregnant_ wife. "How long, I mean, when did you guys start, I mean..."

"Two months ago, it's just been two months. He wanted to tell you, he really did, he just couldn't say the words." Crystal laughed. "I thought he was being silly, but now, I can't either."

"You're pregnant."

"Yeah, that."

"Jesus Christ." Julia giggled, again gazing at the stick. She didn't have a single worry for them; Crystal was the same age as Julia's sister Liz, both women twenty-eight years old. But it wasn't only Crystal's comparative youth; it was Phil's relative heartache. For two and a half years Phil had known joy, about time, Julia sniffed, her eyes drawn to that solid blue line. Then Julia set her hand along Crystal's print skirt. Crystal was a belated hippie through and through. It wasn't just her name or her beatnik parents, Tom and Edie, whom Julia could hear grousing with Chuck about football. It wasn't just Crystal's penchant for whole grains or her 1972 VW Beetle covered with bumper stickers. It wasn't that she didn't shave her armpits or use deodorant, or that now Phil didn't use any either. Not that they smelled bad, only that since meeting Crystal along the Golden Gate Bridge Phil smelled differently, more loved. Then Julia laughed. Crystal was into all the expected things a latent hippie would covet, and was one of the most kind and thoughtful persons Julia had ever met. Julia wished Daniel could have known Phil's wife, a term that had initially troubled Julia, only due to their extremely brief courtship and how it began. But now, two years later, Crystal was Phil's spouse, and she was pregnant. Julia fought tears as Crystal crossed herself, then looked to the ceiling. Crystal Sullivan Gideon was also the biggest Jesus freak Julia had ever known.

She wore a small gold cross under her shirt, that pendant a gift from Phil. Julia had been with him when he chose it, and he had placed it around Crystal's neck at their wedding, in addition to setting a band on her finger. Not that Phil had become a convert, only that he acknowledged what his wife held in high esteem. Now his wife held something that would signify to Phil about as much as what Jesus meant to Crystal. "Jesus Christ," Julia repeated, then she laughed.

"Yeah, been thanking him since I peed on that stick. But Julia, I can't, I mean, I've tried all day and I just can't get the words out."

Julia nodded. She had something she needed to tell Phil, but hadn't been able to do so. Her news wasn't as startling as Crystal's, but it was certainly hard to say. "Listen, I'll tell him, but you need to tell him something for me."

"Oh sure, oh thanks Julia!" Crystal grabbed her with arms that had plucked Phil from the depths, like she had literally hauled his ass from over the side of the bridge. Julia began to cry partly for that, and some for the baby, Phil's baby. Then she wept for what was breaking her heart.

Crystal pulled away, wiping her eyes. "Listen, oh wow, thank you so much. I don't care when you do it, I mean, tonight would be great, maybe after everyone goes home."

"All but Helen," Julia whispered.

"Yeah, maybe you can tell them together. I'll just be hiding, oh jeez, I wanna see his face, but you know..."

Julia laughed. "I remember when I first heard you on the machine. I wanted to see his face then." Julia sighed, then wiped her cheeks. "I'd love to tell him."

"Good, oh man, that's great!" Crystal set the bag in the drawer. "That day, wow, you know I did fall in love with him at first sight, then it was like, oh crap! He's gonna jump, that asshole." She giggled. "It was the last place I wanted to be, yet, there he was, and I knew I loved him, and now look at us." She stared at the bathroom walls, Phil's gold record hung right over the toilet. "Julia, I never got to tell you thanks, you know."

Julia squeezed Crystal's hand. "What do you have to thank me for?"

"For keeping him going and just, well, for everything."

"I think I need to thank you for that."

"You know, I didn't even wanna be there, felt so awful that morning, sort of felt that way this morning."

Julia smiled, opening the door, hearing her mother call for her. "God, I bet. What, you weren't pregnant that day too, were you?"

Crystal laughed as Phil came up the stairs, heading their way. "Oh no, just started my period. Can you imagine?" She nodded to Phil, who stared at them.

"You started your period?" His tone was uneasy.

"The day I met you." Crystal caressed his face. "Why I was so achy," she giggled.

"Oh yeah, yeah," he nodded, looking at the floor.

"That's why we didn't have sex right off the bat," she added, then giggled again. Then she kissed her husband. "Oh, uh, Phil, Julia needs to tell me something. We'll meet you downstairs."

"Later, I'll tell you later." Julia didn't miss the angst on Phil's face. "Why don't I tell Phil something?"

Crystal's lip trembled and she nodded. "I'll, uh, go help with dinner."

"That's why I was looking for you two. Grandma's hunting for scalps."

Julia waved Crystal down the stairs. "Go save yours," she smiled.

Crystal gave Phil a quick kiss, then slipped down the staircase.

"What's up?" He looked back as Crystal could be heard talking to her father. Then she spoke to Chuck, finally to Liz and Diane's boyfriends, but not to Ray. Julia's other half wasn't in attendance.

"C'mere Phil, I gotta show you something." Julia giggled as she led him through the bathroom door.

When Phil came downstairs, he nodded at Julia's father, to Crystal's dad too. He gave Edie Sullivan a kiss in the dining room, then swept past Crystal's three younger brothers, Rodney, Louis, and Cramer, who were hiding out in one of the empty bedrooms. This house wasn't Phil's original Berkeley digs. Helen lived there now, having moved west after Phil and Crystal's wedding in August of 1990. Phil now lived in a far larger Berkeley Hills home. He wasn't sure how long they might live here, but as soon as Julia showed him that stick, then whispered the words, Phil breathed deeply, then allowed that perhaps children's gear might find its way into this house. Maybe, finally, he inhaled, then exhaled, then kissed Julia full on the mouth.

After that, he acknowledged the rest, then found his wife, who was waiting in the laundry room behind the kitchen. Phil closed that door, then reached for her. Crystal was staring out the window, her view of the shallowest spot of the tiny back yard. The house had a wrap-around deck, which would be about all the play space available. Play space, Phil shuddered, as Crystal turned his way. "Did she tell you?"

He nodded.

"Well?"

He kissed her; she tasted differently than Julia. Julia had been drinking wine, but Crystal tasted like milk and... "Are you sure?"

"Well, I haven't puked yet, but don't touch my boobs. Phil, I'm eight days late and ..."

He set a finger to her lips. "Just us and Julia, that's all?"

"That's all. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you."

"No, this's better." He smiled, then kissed her again. She tasted like milk, maybe cranberries too. "Have you been eating cranberry sauce?"

She giggled. "I snuck a slice. Call it my first craving."

"Your first craving." He nodded, then set his hands along her face, but not at her temples. Phil never touched her there. "Your first craving. Crystal, I'm craving you."

"Oh yeah?"

He nodded, pressing himself into her. "Just wanna make sure we did it."

"You wanna do it here, now, in the laundry room?"

"You mind?"

"Your grandmother, my mother, and Julia's mother are just behind that door!"

"I'll lock it. They'll wait."

"Can't you?"

He shook his head, then kissed her, no longer tasting anything but the most correct woman to enter his life.

"Oh Phil, oh, uh, okay honey, oh Phil..." Her skirt was lifted as she spoke, Phil undoing his zipper. If anyone had the nerve to ask, even Julia, Phil would tell them it was all part of the Thanksgiving process.

The Thanksgiving process was a joke all afternoon; Phil only had to smile at his wife, or at Julia, who had knocked, asking what was going on in there. Phil didn't assume anyone else would have been so blatant, he also didn't think their illicit activities had gone unnoticed. But only Julia said something, only she would. She did, but privately, after dessert.

Phil cornered Julia in the laundry room after pie had been served, and she teased. "So what, you want it twice in one day in here?"

He smiled. "Where's Ray?"

She sighed. "At work."

"Crystal said you were gonna tell her something, something to tell me."

"Phil..."

"Julia..."

"All right, I'll go tell her. Then she can tell you."

"Why can't you tell me?"

"Because I'll cry if I do."

"Julia..."

She sniffled, then turned away from him. "He's sleeping with somebody else."

Phil moved toward her, but she stiffened. "Are you okay?"

"He told me he wants to move out. I said fine, move in with her."

Phil said nothing, watching how she tapped her foot, but no noise emerged. "Is he gonna?"

She still faced that small window, one that Phil had looked out while making love to his pregnant wife only hours before. That he'd made love to her first thing that morning seemed irrelevant. Phil hadn't known about their baby then. Only from the middle of the afternoon could his brain conjure that, standing up with Crystal against him, their baby between them. Phil held onto that as Julia finally turned his way. "At this point, I don't care. If he wants to leave, well then, he probably should. Even if he doesn't want to." She smiled. "Better to think about your news today, Daddy."

"I still gotta tell Grandma."

"She's gonna flip."

He smiled, then caressed Julia's face. "Yeah, she will. Edie too."

"Oh God, she's gonna have a cow!"

Phil laughed. "She might. Julia, will you stick around, you know, can you?"

"Sure, why?"

"Because Crystal's gonna be hugging her mother and Tom's gonna be hugging me and Grandma's gonna need someone to squeeze."

"Yeah sure." She giggled, wiping her face. "I'm gonna need someone to squeeze me. But look buster, it ain't gonna be you."

He nodded. "Yeah honey, I don't think it's gonna be me."

By the time the news was shared, Julia wanted to just sleep on the sofa, absorbing the happy vibe, but she had offered to drive Helen home, giving the new parents a moment to themselves. Helen and Julia were the last to leave, Edie and Tom sodden, their eldest son Rodney offering to drive. He was twenty-three; all the Sullivan boys still lived at home and none of them sported outlandish names. Tom and Edie were past that phase by the time they had their subsequent children, and Rodney, Louis, and Cramer were in college studying engineering, economics, and computers respectively. While a five-year gap stood between Crystal and Rodney, the boys had arrived two years apart nearly to the day. Crystal said she wanted that closeness between her and Phil's kids, causing Helen to cry more, Phil to squirm, Julia to grin. Crystal didn't permit Phil's past to be more than it was, the past. As Julia turned onto Phil's old street, she smiled again with Helen's wistful banter; Daniel would have loved this news and Jo-Jo would have too.

Julia parked in the empty driveway; Helen didn't own a car. She walked to the corner store, her seventy-seven years livelier now that she wasn't living in a cold climate. Then Julia sighed. It had been twenty years since Jo-Jo's death, but Helen was going to see one of Phil's children. "Well, here we are." Julia opened her door, but Helen grasped her hand.

"Honey, you have a minute?"

"Sure."

They walked up the stairs arm in arm. Helen unlocked the door, and the place looked no different to Julia, except that it was cleaner. She never had to assist Helen with the dishes.

Lights were turned on, then Helen adjusted the thermostat. She got a drink of water, offering one to Julia. Julia said _no_ , didn't want to stay long, although Ray wasn't going to be at their apartment. Maybe she would linger.

Helen smiled. "Thanks for driving me home. Better for Phil and Crystal to have a minute, you know."

"My pleasure Grandma."

Helen laughed. "Honey, you're a good girl. I'm happy for them, for him." Helen sighed. "Julia, are you okay?"

"Sure. Fine. Tired." She nearly said _horny_ , but wasn't going to explore her life that deeply with Phil's grandmother.

"Julia, you been writing any?"

"What?"

Helen smiled, then led them to the sofa. Helen's couch wasn't covered by any more than an afghan, one Julia had seen in Columbus. Helen's sofa was new, she hadn't brought her furniture, no place to put it, she had laughed. But this crocheted throw had made the trip, and Helen set it over her lap. "I'm chilled, just a bit," she said, tucking it under her thighs. "Once the heater starts up, I'll be fine."

"Uh-huh."

"Julia, I just want you to know, in case you're wondering, maybe you're not. But I'm not at all worried for Phil, not this time."

"I'm not either."

"Good. I don't know if he is, but that girl's faith is enough for me to not think about it." Helen laughed. "Good lord but she's an odd one about some things."

Julia giggled. "At the very least yes."

"Funny that her parents aren't like that, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. And it won't take long, don't worry." Helen smiled, gripping Julia's hand. "This isn't about Phil. This's about you."

Julia swallowed, glad she didn't say _you and Ray_. There wasn't much of a Julia and Ray anymore, and if there was, after Phil and Crystal's news, then there truly wouldn't be any of a Julia and Ray.

"You been poking at that same notebook since I met you. It's time now Julia."

"Time for what?"

"Time to write your novel."

"Oh Grandma..."

Helen smiled. "Don't _Oh Grandma_ me. You've had plenty of time to bluff your way out of it, and I'll admit the last few, well, the last several years for Phil have been pretty crappy."

Julia giggled; only Helen and Crystal wouldn't have said _shitty_. Crystal called people _assholes_ , the worst to pass her lips. Helen had probably never called anyone an _asshole_ , but _crappy_ was certainly applicable.

"But now, well, he's gonna fret some over the next eight months. Did she say when she was due?"

"I think she said next July."

Helen sighed. "Well, good thing time goes so fast. He won't be a basket case for too long."

"Long enough," Julia smiled.

"Well yes, but that's all right. Sounds like Crystal wants this baby, then another right away."

"That's what she said."

"Which is good, I mean, good for me," Helen laughed.

Julia smiled, setting her hand on Helen's leg covered by the afghan. "You're not going anywhere, you hear?"

"Well, at least not for another nine months. But that's about Phil. I have two grandchildren." Her tone was straightforward. "Julia, you need to get busy."

"Yeah?"

"Yup. I wanna hold a great-grandchild before I die. And I want to read one of your novels."

"One huh?" Julia laughed. "What, I'm just gonna pump 'em out like Phil and Crystal's babies?"

Helen took a deep breath. "No, not like Phil and Crystal's babies." Helen reached for Julia's face. "I never expected great-grandkids from you, that's not your thing. And Julia, that's fine. Not everyone's meant for motherhood. Or fatherhood. Phil is, I've always seen that in him, so much like..."

"Daniel," Julia sighed.

"Well yes, he looks like him. But I was gonna say Stan."

Julia glanced at the floor.

"He's a lot like his dad, far more than he'll ever know, than I could ever tell him, and I don't just mean the music. Julia, if Stan had lived, if he and Joanna..."

"Helen, please."

"No, you listen to me. You call me Grandma, so you gotta hear me out. That man, Stan I mean, he loved his son, loved him and my girl and they would've had, oh who knows! But I saw it in Phil from the time he was little. Always bringing kids around, like he would've been a great big brother."

Julia nodded.

"And now, well, let them have two or three even, one right after the other. Would give him something to do, make get him back into his music."

"That'd be good."

"Yes, it would. Phil'll start writing songs again and you can write books. Honey, it's time now. It's really time."

Julia nodded, was aware of this truth, but she didn't like Helen's words, or Ray's behavior. She was thrilled for Phil and Crystal, and she stood, walking to the sliding glass door. In summer she came here in the evenings if she didn't feel like listening to her father's raspy cough. It was easier to visit Helen, or at least it had been. Now Julia wasn't sure where she would spend her nights. Not with the parents-to-be, or not until they were able to wait and not do it in the laundry room.

"Julia, if things with Ray are taking a dump then..."

She turned to see Helen's impassive face. "Did you say _taking a dump_?"

"Well, I hear it all the time. Sounds better than taking a shit."

"Oh my God!"

"You can take the girl out of Columbus, and I guess you can put California in her mouth." Helen smiled. "Don't worry, I won't talk like this around my great-grandchild."

Helen stood. "Just my only granddaughter. A granddaughter that's not gonna have kids, but honey, you got other things to do. Now, go on, get home. It's late and I'm pooped. You come by here in a day or two, or sooner, if you like. If I haven't scared or pissed you off."

"Pissed me off?"

Helen smiled. "Well, sure. Get with the times Julia. It's nearly 1993!"
Chapter 10

" _Hey Phil, Crystal, just, uh, wanted to tell you again congratulations. And that, uh, Ray sends his too. I saw him today, he, uh, came by the apartment. I was, uh, trying to work. Yeah, ask Grandma, she'll vouch for me. But Ray fucked that all up. He, uh, had some news. Guess what? Ray's pregnant. And it's not my baby."_

" _Hey, oh honey! Shit, I'm, well, sorry. Julia, call me okay?"_

" _Hey Phil. I'm, uh, okay. Eating a peach pie, gonna be as big as Crystal by the time this's all over. He, uh, said he's been wanting to tell me, I mean, this isn't anything new. Well, I mean, that he knocked somebody up is different. But, yeah, he said she's due in June, right before you guys. I said maybe you all could have a double baby shower. He didn't like that, but I laughed. Then I cried. Phil, oh Jesus!" Small sobs. "So yeah, he's, uh, gonna be a dad and you're gonna be a dad. Phil, you really are and that's so fucking fantastic. Sorry Crystal. That's really great you know, I'm so happy for you both." Deep weeping, then Julia blew her nose. "Yeah, I mean, I'm really like so happy! Might not sound that way, but I am. Hey, uh, Crystal, anyone else like to stalk the bridge, you know, any cute guys? Maybe I'll go out there, see what I can find."_

" _Hey Julia? Julia you there? Uh, pick up honey. Julia?"_

" _Hey Phil, it's okay. I did go out there, all I saw were tons of tourists. This big group of French people, oui, oui, oui all over the place! Wee wee wee all the way home, I felt like the little piggy who just bawled her eyes out. I think they thought I was thinking about jumping, not sure any of them would've lifted a finger. Hey, you notice I'm not swearing so much? I mean, for Crystal, but also for little Phil Junior. Don't want anything absorbed by either of you two."_

" _Hey Julia, listen, we're having creamed tuna on toast. Crystal loves it, says the tuna is great protein, especially on whole grain bread. You wanna come over for dinner?"_

" _Hey Phil, hey Crystal, hey baby tunahead. I'm, uh, sorta busy tonight. No, I'm not going bridge hopping. Just, uh, writing. Yeah, I'm writing. Don't tell anyone. Well, you can tell Grandma, then she'll stop pestering me. But yeah, just me and the typewriter. And the white-out. I think I need more white-out."_

" _Hi Julia, it's me, Crystal. Listen, I know usually Phil makes these calls, but he wants to ask you something, but he's too chicken to get on the phone. Yes you are being a chicken," Crystal said with one hand over the receiver. "Well, if you're not gonna ask her, then I am. Well yes Phil, because I'm already six months along and if you aren't gonna do it, one of us needs to." A throat is cleared. "So Julia, when you get this message, if you'd give me a call, there's something Phil's too chicken to ask you. Thanks, bye."_

Julia had found that while she and Phil were somewhat direct when it came to phone messages, Crystal appreciated more mystery. Julia felt compelled to drive to Berkeley, a good excuse to not write, also a way to not note the enormity and stillness of her apartment.

Lee was hosting a baby shower in late May, by which time Crystal would be seven months, the baby due in mid-July. Ray's baby was due in early June, but Julia wasn't expecting to buy a gift for that infant. If she saw Ray between now and then, she might plant a foot up his backside, all she felt able to render.

In Berkeley, Julia split her time between two households, either at Helen's or Phil's, which now contained a slightly decorated nursery, or the few items that Phil could tolerate. Crystal's pregnancy had been without incident, but Phil had wanted to wait until the last minute with details, and Julia hadn't blamed him. The rest of their families were more hopeful, but every time Julia saw Phil, she sensed his reluctance to believe. It did seem too good to be true, but if anyone was due, it was Phil.

That's what she told him as he let her inside. Crystal was taking a shower. She liked evening baths, Phil said, easier for her to fall asleep.

"Maybe you should try it too," Julia said.

"Sometimes I join her."

"And then you're both ready to fall into bed," Julia giggled. "Just don't ask me to step into your laundry room."

"Ha ha." Phil sat on the sofa as Julia gazed at books on the same coffee table from the LA house. They had bought a new sofa, recliner, and kitchen table, but why did he still have this clunky coffee table?

The books weren't ones Sunshine had enjoyed; Crystal liked non-fiction, and not just about babies. She read thick tomes concerning civil rights, world events, a few Jesus books that made Julia smile. Crystal wanted the baby baptized at her church, and Julia cringed. Was Phil going to ask her to be a godmother?

She hadn't considered that, then she felt queasy. She didn't want children, why Ray had screwed around, something Julia had allowed in the past, but he had always returned to her. Now she wouldn't take him back, even if he begged. If Phil pressed, Julia would remain resolute. She felt incapable of being any more than Phil's best friend, her parents' eldest child. She certainly didn't feel akin to Laura Riley; all of Julia's attempts at fiction had fallen flat, but she hadn't told anyone, not even Phil. If she couldn't write a novel, how in the hell did he expect her to be a godmother?

"So what's up? Time's wasting Gideon. What, Axl Rose call you, want you to join the band?"

Phil laughed. "No, God, I haven't heard from Axl since..." He nodded. "Not since I tried to jump."

Julia shivered. He could laugh about it, maybe because the woman who talked him out of it stood in their bathroom. Crystal was probably naked, but no longer so small. Her boobs were huge, her petite five foot two inches now attempting to balance a basketball in the center of her body. Everyone had wondered how she was going to show, and it hadn't taken long. By the time that kid was born, Julia thought, all Crystal was going to be was one big uterus.

"Phil, what's up?"

"Crystal wants me to wait until she gets out."

"Because basically whatever it is, you can't tell me."

"Julia..."

"Don't ask me to be a godparent, okay?"

He looked surprised. "Oh, uh, no, that's not it."

"Oh. Really?"

He smiled. "Do you wanna be a godmother Julia?"

"No, I don't." She squirmed. "So who is?"

He laughed at her, then stood. "Actually, we're not sure yet. Crystal wants Rodney, you know, they're pretty close." Phil walked to the hallway. "Hey honey, Julia's here!"

"Okay, be right out!"

Julia smiled; Crystal's voice was chirpy in this airy space. The living room led to the loft, where the couple's bedroom was situated, along with their bathroom. Was that stick still encased in plastic? Not like Arthur and Claire's sofa, and Julia sighed. She had spoken to her grandmother last week. They had asked about Phil, in a roundabout manner. They never asked if she was going to have kids, maybe they knew. They had ruined that for her, and if they ever did have the balls to inquire, she would tell them so. No way would she ever subject a baby to Claire and Arthur Riley. No way would Julia subject a baby to herself either.

Phil paced, and Julia smiled. He would be like this in another few months, then she wondered about Ray; what sort of father would he make? Probably not so bad, better than Arthur Riley. Anyone would be better than Arthur, yet the best dad Julia knew wasn't even her own. Chuck was grumpy and uptight, but Daniel Reese had been the best father/grandfather combination, and Julia wished he was standing with Phil, telling him all the things a father needed to share. Then she felt like crying; what about Stan?

"Okay, I'm out. Hey Julia." Crystal wore a robe, and Julia laughed.

"My God but you get bigger every time I see you." As the women embraced, Julia could feel the baby's movements.

"Everyone says that, even my mother," Crystal smiled. "So, did Phil spill the beans yet?"

"No, are you kidding?" Julia stared at him.

He sat down, Crystal beside him. Phil had been slow to grasp the material elements of impending fatherhood, but when it came to his wife, he was all over her. Julia chuckled as he nuzzled into Crystal, making a joke about laundry. Crystal giggled, then she grew quiet.

"So what you two?" Julia couldn't read anything from Phil's nervous face, and Crystal looked the same.

"Julia, we wanted to ask you two things," Crystal started.

"She wanted to know if we were gonna ask her to be a godparent," Phil said. "She's says she doesn't want that."

"Oh," Crystal said. "Well, actually I was thinking about it, but sure, I mean, it's okay. No biggie."

"It's just that I have no aptitude for that sort of thing."

"No sure, I understand." Crystal looked around the room. "Well, will you be with us when the baby's born?"

Julia gasped, then stared at Phil. "Are you shitting me?"

Crystal laughed as Phil nodded. "No, we're not. Need someone to take pictures."

"What, and give a full written summary too? I thought Edie was gonna be with you."

Crystal giggled. "Actually I don't really want Mom there. She wouldn't be able to take it, I mean, a natural birth and all."

"She wouldn't?"

"Well, not the me screaming my head off part of it."

"Oh, well, uh, what makes you think I can take it?"

"You don't wanna be there, do you?" Phil said.

Julia wished it was only her and Phil. "Well, to tell you the truth..."

"Okay, well, will you at least wait outside, I mean, we'd like to see you right afterwards."

"Crystal, why?"

"Oh jeez, you two! Man, how in the world have you stayed friends this long? Because Julia, Phil loves you and I do too and after my parents and Helen, we want you to meet the baby. We wouldn't be naming her after you if we didn't."

"What?"

"Crystal, uh, she doesn't know about that yet."

"Phil, that's the part _you_ were supposed to tell her!"

"Crystal, Phil, are you guys kidding me?"

"Uh, Julia, uh..."

"Joanna Julia, if it's a girl," Crystal said. "I mean, Jo-Jo's first, then you."

Julia took deep breaths. "Oh my God, are you fucking serious?"

Phil laughed. "Yeah, she's serious. I mean, we both are."

"It was my idea though," Crystal said.

Julia smiled at Phil. "Her idea huh? And what am I Phil, chopped liver?"

"Creamed tuna on toast, actually."

"Great. Thanks Gideon."

"My pleasure Penn."

"So, will you, I mean, wait in the lobby?" Crystal asked.

Julia caught her breath. "Yeah sure, oh man, I'd love to wait in the lobby."

"Even if it's late, I mean, my mother says she'll wait unless it's like the middle of the night. Which is fine, I mean, Mom's Mom, that's probably as good as I'll get with her."

"Even if it's the middle of the night, sure, you bet. What about Grandma?"

"Grandma says if it's after ten, she'll meet Junior the next day. But you'll be there Julia?"

She stood, looking at a house still new to her eyes. Soon it wouldn't even look this tidy. A small creature would wreak havoc, an infant that Julia didn't wish to see enter the world, but as soon as that task had occurred... "Yeah, I'll wait in the lobby all night long."

On the eighth of June, Julia learned that Ray had become a father to a little boy named Abraham. Julia grimaced at the news and name with equal vigor, then spent much of that evening writing in her journal. Ray Winston was still an asshole, but Julia had higher hopes for his biblically named offspring.

No one knew what Phil and Crystal were having, not even the expectant couple. Julia knew if it was a girl they were going to call her Joanna, but not Jo-Jo. Helen knew too, and when they got together they spoke of it with smiles. Helen also knew the middle name, referring to her great-grandchild as JJ. Julia liked that, but accepted the more stately Joanna would be the baby's moniker.

Phil hadn't said what they might name a boy, and Julia didn't want to ask. Daniel or Stan would only make her cry, and she hoped it was going to be a girl, or that Phil wouldn't pick something from the Bible, or at least not the Old Testament. Crystal was more a New Testament sort of gal, but they were keeping mum, and Julia didn't get nosy.

On the Fourth of July all gathered at Julia's place, from where they could see the fireworks. Helen declined, but the rest ate pizza and Thai food, then watched explosions in the sky. Julia was held by Phil, who mentioned he had run into Ray the week before. Ray had asked about Julia, looked exhausted, and seemed leery of what he had acquired. Julia laughed at it all, thought he got what he deserved. Then she grew quiet. "What?" Phil asked.

She gazed at Crystal on the sofa, Lee beside her. Julia's mother was appropriating Phil's wife, just as Helen had adopted Julia. None of Lee and Chuck's daughters was keen on motherhood and Julia hoped Lee didn't take it as a slight, only that they were career women. Liz was an engineer in Silicon Valley while Diane worked at a hair salon in downtown San Jose, both having moved from their Oakland home base. Only Julia lived in the north, and that was across the bay from their parents. But Crystal and Phil were just a hop skip and a jump, as Chuck liked to say. Phil was becoming a father, but Julia's parents were earning the grandchild.

"Phil, look at Mom. If she saw Ray with his kid, she's probably sidle up to him too."

Phil laughed. "Julia..."

"No, I mean, none of us girls seem to want babies. Does that mean something?"

"Only that you're nineties women. You have careers, a life." He laughed. "Not that I do, but..."

"I don't have a life or a career. Hey Phil, you're just like me."

"Ha ha." He tickled her. "Actually..."

"What?" She looked at him. "Are you working?"

"I've, uh, got almost a whole album's worth of music written."

She hit his arm. "You asshole! Why didn't you say anything?"

"Didn't wanna pressure you."

"Oh."

"See? I'm not that big of a butthead."

"Jerk," she said, slapping him again.

"What?" Liz said, coming their way.

"Phil's a..." Julia stopped. "A really nice guy, aren't you Phil?"

"What'd he do now?" Crystal called from the sofa.

"Nothing," Julia said, kissing his cheek. "Nothing at all."

Julia found it hard to write, expecting Phil to call at any moment about the baby, who had gone three days past the due date. Now in the middle-end of July, Julia was nearly out of her head. She allowed that Crystal and Phil were probably also beyond waiting, but she would only permit that couple to be more frantic than she was.

On Monday, July nineteenth, Julia received a call from Phil, one she actually answered. "Hello?"

"Hey Julia, guess what? Crystal's water broke. We're heading for the hospital right now."

"Oh shit, are you serious?"

"Yup. Will you pick up Grandma?"

Julia nodded, then realized she needed to speak. "Yeah sure Phil. I'll meet you there."

Julia and Helen arrived, finding Crystal in a great deal of agony. The idea of a natural birth was still considered, but some form of pain alleviation had also been deliberated. Crystal was only dilated to four centimeters then. By the time she reached six, drugs had been administered.

That was at eight o'clock in the evening. By nine, Helen asked for a cab to be called. By then Crystal was at seven out of ten centimeters, the worst still to come.

Lee and Chuck took Helen home, then were followed out the door by Edie and Tom, Louis and Cramer. Crystal's brother Rodney remained until midnight, at which time the future godfather announced that while he loved his niece or nephew, he was beat, and would see them in the morning.

That left Julia, who would stay to the bitter end, she told Phil. Phil had laughed, and Julia asked if he too had been slipped something to ease the tension.

"Nothing more than a whole lot of Pepsi," he grinned. "Julia, you know what?"

"What?" she asked, standing right outside Crystal's door.

Phil squeezed her hands. "No matter what, we made it this far. Even if something happens..."

"Phil, nothing's gonna happen except a baby squirting outta her vagina."

"But even if something happens, it'll be okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yup."

"And how do you know that?"

" _Phil!"_

Julia giggled. "You better get in there or you'll miss it."

He smiled, then kissed her. Then he slipped behind the door as Julia heard hefty grunts and a few expletives, but none were from Phil's mouth.

Julia grew drowsy, the clock reading two, then two thirty. She stood and stretched, then turned. Phil was coming her way.

"Well?" She ran to meet him. He was clad in a green smock and the biggest grin she had ever seen.

"Come meet your namesake," he chuckled.

"Oh Jesus! Is it really a girl?"

"Just born, I even cut the goddamn cord!"

"Phil! Get your ass back in there!"

"No, she wants you too."

They headed to Crystal's room. "What, can't a nurse be bothered to come tell me?"

"No, I wanted to. It's okay. They're weighing her, putting in stitches."

"Is she, I mean, did she..."

"She tore a little, no biggie. Julia, it was the most amazing thing I ever saw."

They reached large basins where Julia washed her hands, Phil too. Then he led her to where they had stood only a few hours earlier. Julia stopped. "Phil, are you okay?"

"You know when I told you it was gonna be all right?"

She sighed, scuffing her foot along the floor. "Yeah. You were right. How'd you know?"

He inhaled, then opened the door. From where she stood, Julia spied a small bundle on Crystal's chest. The baby seemed muted, as Phil led Julia in the room.

"Phil," she whispered, as they crossed the threshold. "How'd you know?"

"Dad told me. Julia, I heard him. I know it was him."

"What?"

"He sang it to me, I mean, I wouldn't recognize him by any other voice." Phil gazed at his wife, who was now being shown how to position their baby for breastfeeding. "Dad told me everything was gonna be okay. And he was right. He was absolutely right. Hey honey, how is it?"

As Phil turned to watch his wife, Julia gaped at him, then was shaken by Phil's sharp jerk of her hand. Her first encounter with Joanna Julia Gideon was a peek at a busy mouth surrounding the breast of a tearful mother. Then Julia gazed toward a new father whom she assumed had temporarily lost his mind.
Chapter 11

" _Hey uh, Julia? It's Crystal, and we just got a really strange visitor. Julia, when you get this, don't call, just come over. Unless it's really late you know, otherwise, Phil really needs you. Thanks, and we'll, uh, see you soon, okay?"_

Julia changed JJ's diaper, the toddler squirming on Phil's sofa. "Hey you, knock it off."

JJ Gideon, the spitting image of Phil's baby pictures, just laughed at her Aunt Julia.

"She knows what I'm telling her," Julia sighed as Phil approached. "She knows she's being a turd."

"I know she does. Don't you baby?" He sat near JJ, who lay on the couch. No plastic covers graced the furniture, only a thin pad under the toddler's bottom. Julia affixed the tapes, then stood the laughing girl on her feet. "There. Now go piss on your daddy."

JJ bounced and laughed and Julia couldn't help herself. Instead of handing the baby to Phil, she brought JJ to her chest. Having fallen in love with Phil's daughter, Julia wondered if the next one, due in August, would hit her the same. JJ had landed with a thud on both Liz and Diane's doorsteps; Julia's sisters were now pregnant too. By the time Phil and Crystal's next baby arrived, Julia would be an aunt to her own flesh and blood.

Joanna Julia had been christened as such, but almost from the moment Helen cuddled her great-granddaughter, JJ had emerged, Phil, Crystal, and Julia unable to call her anything else. Sometimes Lee or Edie called her Joanna, or just Jo, but there had been only one Joanna Gideon, and JJ seemed a better fit for the feisty, petite toddler. She looked just like her father, with Phil's wide green eyes, but JJ took after her mother when it came to size. She liked to eat, walked with no trouble, but was a tiny thing. Julia wondered if all of Phil and Crystal's kids would possess emerald irises and peculiarly small feet and hands, but not only due to a baby's normal features. Julia occasionally saw Abraham Winston, and he was a porker.

"Here, give her to Daddy." Phil reached over and Julia reluctantly acquiesced. JJ almost seemed sad, what Julia noted, until Phil's daughter began squealing in laughter.

"No fair, you're tickling her," Julia complained.

"She loves me more than you."

"Ha! You're cheating."

Phil smiled, but he never repeated what Chuck had said, that Julia should have her own baby. Chuck had mentioned that over Christmas, when Liz and Diane were spreading their good news. Liz and her boyfriend Adam were due in May, Diane and her husband Wayne right before JJ turned one. Then a month later the next Gideon would arrive, and as Crystal waddled into the room, Julia laughed. Crystal seemed even bigger this time, still with months to go.

"Gonna be a boy, I bet," Julia said as Crystal eased into the recliner.

"If it is, I'm having a C-section. She was big enough."

Julia laughed as Phil set JJ on the floor. She walked to her mother, but Crystal wouldn't lift her. "You're a moose," she said, moving JJ's thin brown hairs to the side.

JJ lifted her arms, but Phil stood, setting his daughter into what remained of Crystal's lap.

The baby snuggled, then began to root. "No way kiddo. Phil, get her some juice."

Julia took her namesake. "Is it hard, I mean, to refuse her?"

Crystal sighed. "Sometimes. That's the only downer about having them close together. I'd love to nurse her, but..."

"Could you, I mean?" Julia had no knowledge about this endeavor, and wasn't sure she wanted to know as much as she was asking.

"I could, but my doctor and pediatrician wouldn't be pleased. La Leche League says it's all right, but I'm exhausted as it is."

Julia still preferred her childless state, one niece and three more infants on the way plenty to soothe her longings. Then there was Abraham...

"So, you see Ray lately?" Phil returned with a sippee cup. He shook it JJ's way and she wiggled in her auntie's arms. Julia set her down and she joined Phil on the sofa.

Staring at Phil and his child, Julia was near tears. Crystal and JJ were a mother-daughter tandem that Julia found fascinating, the way Crystal had breastfed while doing a million other tasks, or was quietly seated as if the whole world consisted of only two. But when Phil cradled his daughter, Julia wanted to be a father. Phil made it look so easy, and she recalled Helen's words about Stan. Daniel Reese had been a terrific surrogate dad for Phil, but what would Stan have been like?

"What?" she asked, lost in the way Phil brushed JJ's soft brown hairs from her temples. He loved touching her along her head and Julia blinked away tears, taking a seat on the sofa.

"Hey, I'm sorry, didn't mean to hit a nerve."

She looked at Phil. "What? I didn't hear you."

Crystal stood, sitting next to Julia. "It's okay you know, it really is."

"What, I, uh..."

Phil's shrug showed only questions about Ray, but somehow Crystal knew Julia's mind.

"Phil, go lay her down, maybe she'll take a nap," Crystal said.

"What'd I miss?"

"Phil..."

"All right. Come on baby. The big girls are just being poopy."

After Phil had stepped into the hall, Julia turned to Crystal. "How do you know?"

"I have no idea. I barely know my name these days."

"It's Mama," Julia smiled, wiping her eyes.

"Yeah, why I'm so clueless." She tapped the side of her head. "Nothing left up here. Don't have kids Julia. You think it's hard trying to write that novel now?"

Only Crystal could tease, Julia always with a smile. "Liz says she's can't think, can't work. Thank God Adam can support them, at least until she's got some brain cells back."

"Julia, he's okay now. Or at least he's better." Crystal giggled, then caressed her belly. "This one, jeez, he talks to it, sings to it, stuff he never did with JJ. Good thing she'll never know, oh man she'd be pissed!"

"Is he still writing music?" Julia cleared her throat, wishing to change the subject from babies.

"Yeah, but he won't talk about recording. Helen's been bugging him about it though."

"Good. She's been bugging me too."

Julia could talk about her nonexistent writing, easier than thinking of... She swallowed. "Does he talk about, you know..."

"Sometimes. Helen brings over baby pictures, and jeez, JJ looks just like Phil, I mean, their eyes. Even in the black and white ones, it's like you can see those eyes. So green, so, so..."

Julia nodded. "So much of what might've been."

The news was still new, sort of frightening, and nothing Phil could speak of, but something of which Julia felt she might be able to write about, but to broach that now was unthinkable. Still, January's bombshell had silenced the Floridians; Julia hadn't heard a peep out of either Arthur or Claire, which still surprised her. She was certain that once it became common knowledge, Arthur and Claire would demand Laura's case to be reexamined. But somehow the reality of a murder actually committed had cooled their usual fury. That Phil's dad hadn't killed himself was still settling in all their heads two months later. But it had altered one situation, and Julia sighed. "Crystal, I need to tell you and Phil something."

"Ray wants to come home doesn't he?"

Julia nodded. "I just, shit!" Then she sighed.

"It's okay. The baby can't hear you."

"No, I mean, I'm sorry baby." She stroked Crystal's belly. "God, are you sure it's not twins?"

Crystal laughed. "Yeah, but it feels like it. If this kid goes full term, I am not having a vaginal birth."

"Maybe you can have it by osmosis."

"Maybe Phil will have the next one."

They laughed as he returned. Then Julia stood, clasping his hands. She had always been tactile with him, but since early January, it had increased. On January first, Phil and Crystal learned they were having another baby. Three days later, they met a woman who blew their world away.

"So, Ray wants to come back." Julia leaned against Phil, who faced Crystal, all three sitting on the sofa.

"And..." Phil said.

"And, well, oh my God." Julia closed her eyes. Ray's desire to return was as unbelievable as when Hilary Jerrold approached Phil, or what Julia imagined. She hadn't been here when that woman knocked on the door; Julia had heard the initial, implausible news second-hand. Yet when she met the granddaughter of Stan's manager, Julia realized it was true, even though she hadn't seen Larry Jerrold's deathbed video confession, hadn't watched her father coolly examine the thirty-five-year-old police notes, hadn't done more than listen to ancient facts being dispelled. The facts had never been in dispute; Stan Gideon's fingerprints were on the gun, the placement of the barrel right along his temple. A closed case, no questions asked. Since the fourth of January, only queries remained.

But not the sort to cause endless speculation in the physical, just rhetorical, the worst kind. What sort of father would Stan have been? How might his career have continued? How many children would he and Jo-Jo have had? Then, the truly difficult ones that Helen only posed to Julia; would Joanna still be alive? Would Helen be living in Columbus with Daniel, who might not have ignored his cancer? So many loopholes were loosened by one man's desire to die with a clear conscience.

"I just told Ray that I didn't know." Julia was grateful for Phil's arms around her shoulders. "I mean, for one thing, it'd be breaking up a family. How am I supposed to do that?" Then she swallowed, as Phil's grip tightened. "I'm sorry, Christ!"

"No, it's okay." Phil kissed the back of her head. "It's the truth, it happens."

Julia wiped her face, feeling Crystal's warm palms along her legs. "I, oh God! What am I supposed to do?"

She still loved Ray Winston, that wasn't the question. The question wasn't even was it right for Julia to take back an unfaithful lover, severing Ray's permanence with his girlfriend and their son. The question was a plethora of reflections like a hall of mirrors for Julia, for Phil, for Helen, Lee, Liz, and Diane too. Not so much for Crystal, who admitted her simple view, about all her sapped brain could afford. Crystal had said that it was over in 1959, thirty-five years in the past. No matter how Stan had died, the events were unchanged. Whether Larry Jerrold had killed Phil's dad or Stan had done it himself, now it was 1995. If one man's mind had been eased at the last moments of his life, well, at least Larry Jerrold could pass from this world with some small peace.

The rest had a harder time sorting _what was_ from _what could have been_. Only Chuck was silent, once he offered a retired cop's perspective. That Stan's prints on the gun had been smudged was a clear sign of something afoot, but those prints had been enough for the attending law enforcement to waive minor discrepancies. The shot had been delivered right along Stan's head; waiting to exact retribution, Larry Jerrold had waited for Stan after that final concert, after Stan spoke to Jo-Jo. If Stan wouldn't sell the rights to his songs, Larry would just kill him.

Hindsight offered a clearer view, which had made Phil break down, Helen too. If Crystal hadn't been pregnant, Julia wasn't sure if either Phil or his grandmother would have recovered so quickly. It wasn't just for Stan who they belatedly mourned, but those also rocked by his death, and JJ had filled a hole for Helen, stirring life back into Phil. Lives had been permanently altered by one man's spite, deaths occurring in piecemeal; Stan immediately, Jo-Jo twelve years later, Daniel only recently. Helen was certain that if Joanna had been alive, her father wouldn't have sidestepped his failing health.

"Julia, do you still love him?" Phil's voice was marred by tears.

"It's not just about me."

"Julia..."

"I am not gonna be some," she winced. "Home-wrecker."

"Baby, it's not the same thing."

"Yes it is! If Ray and Aurora split up, I do not wanna be a part of it, I do not want..."

She nearly said _that blood on my hands_ , but from the way Phil trembled and the dark sadness on Crystal's face, Julia just shook her head. Then she stood. "God, this's ridiculous. I wasn't gonna let this happen, shit!"

"Honey, don't get this spun up with Dad."

Phil now called his father _Dad_ instead of _Stan_ , and Julia began to cry. "Phil, my God! I, I..."

They hadn't spoken of this in more than hushed whispers, as if bringing it into the open might unearth more than just memories. Maybe Stan would appear; maybe he, Daniel, and Jo-Jo were waiting right outside the door, a trio lost to time. If Julia squinted hard enough, her own mother stood alongside them, a quartet of those loved and lost due to carelessness, or truthfully, good old American know-how; Larry Jerrold had murdered Phil's dad, then wiggled his way out of it. Nearly all of Phil's life had been tarnished, but Julia wouldn't do that to little Abraham Winston.

Well, he wasn't that little, he was huge actually. He could beat the crap out of JJ if babies were set against each other, and Julia began to laugh. "This's insane. I am not taking him back and that's final."

"He's gonna leave her anyways," Phil said, clearing his throat.

"Oh and how would you know that?"

"I saw him recently. He asked about you. And yeah," Phil smiled. "His son is huge."

She had mentioned that in passing a few months back, when Ray first started bringing this up with her. Julia had spent several years with one man who fucked around, but when he left her in 1992, she had said that was it. And Julia had meant it. She had never planned to even consider Ray's return, especially once he told her about his baby, which had seemed small for only seconds, as now Abraham was about the size of two JJ's, about the size of Julia's heartache. She still loved Ray, but it wasn't just about him, as she gazed at a man not raised by his father. Julia would not be a party to that happening to not-so-small Abraham Winston.

"Julia, if they're gonna break up, then it's a moot point where Ray lives. It won't be with his son, no matter what."

"Crystal, I just can't do that!"

"Do you still love him?"

Julia glared at Phil. "What fucking difference does it make?"

"If you love him, and I know he loves you..."

"He cheated on me Phil, multiple times! What sort of love is that?"

"Honey, life's short. Think about it, okay?"

He grasped her hands. His had been held for only brief moments by a man cut down early, but not by Stan himself. Phil had lost much peace by a confession, but for the first time Julia felt what Phil had earned; Stan hadn't left him on purpose.

Yet Phil's serenity was hard to take. "Phil," she mumbled, "how can I interfere? It's not my place!"

"Sometimes we don't get a choice, sometimes it's just thrust upon us."

"But I don't want it, I don't want him, I never wanted to be a mother!"

"Be a father then." Crystal's voice was almost inaudible.

"What?" Julia said.

"Abraham's already got a mother. He can just have two daddies. You do live in San Francisco."

"Oh Jesus!" Julia sighed.

"Sure, why not? Move with the times Penn."

Julia stared at Phil, then wiped her face. "You're both crazy, you know that?"

"Life's crazy Julia, I know that." Phil kissed her cheek. "Nothing makes any sense, or not very much does. But the best things are the simplest things." He sat next to his wife, running his hands along their baby. "Right now, this is all I know. If I try to think about anything else, I get a headache."

"Should I leave you two to do some laundry?" Julia clucked.

"Actually Phil, there's a load in there, go start it." Crystal giggled, pushing him away. "I'll walk Julia out."

"Oh God no. I'll see myself out, thank you very much."

Julia had reached the door when Crystal grabbed her arm. "Come on, I need a short walk."

Phil had disappeared as the women left the house.

Crystal only went as far as the stairs. "You can see yourself to your car." She peered over the side; Julia's vehicle was parked right behind Crystal's ancient Beetle. "Too much waddling back up the steps."

"It'll only get worse," Julia laughed.

"No kidding. I'm already starting to hunker down. Phil does all the shopping. All I'll go down those steps for are doctor's appointments and when this kid decides to pop."

"What, you hosting the baby showers?"

Crystal nodded. "Already got the dates on the calendar."

Julia set her hands along a swollen belly. "God, you know, Liz can't wait, Diane either. I'm so glad they're finally knocked up. Takes the heat offa me."

"Julia, you'd be a great father."

"Stop saying that!"

"It's true. You're so good with JJ, I've seen it since she was born. I know motherhood scares the crap outta you, and that's okay. You need time to write anyways."

As if Crystal had poked her arm, Julia ran her hand over the imaginary wound. "Hey, that hurts."

"Not as much as childbirth."

"Ha ha. You're as close as I wanna get."

"Then be Abraham's daddy. God knows he could use another."

"Crystal..."

"Don't _Crystal_ me. Listen. Ray came over here two weeks ago..."

"He what?"

"Don't blame Phil, Ray made us swear not to tell you. And yeah, his kid's a moose. It was fun to watch JJ with another toddler, she was running rings around him all over the deck. Makes me glad we're having another, glad for your sisters." Crystal smiled, then stared at Julia. "All Ray did was talk about you. He does love you, man, the regret in his eyes, like Phil's."

"Phil's?"

"Since he learned about Stan, all Phil can think about is _what if?_ Well, that's not all he thinks about, and it's not even about having his dad close. It's the music Julia, Phil can't help thinking what Stan might've done, could've accomplished. That's why he wants to make another record. You want the truth? If we hadn't learned all that about his dad, Phil might've been content to never record another album. We don't need the money, it's not about that at all, which is a huge blessing, believe me. But I don't want a househusband, I want him to get off his butt and do what he loves. And yeah, part of it's changing diapers, jeez, we're gonna have more pissy bottoms than we'll know what to do with." Crystal laughed, then sat down in a deck chair.

"Phil's gonna be waiting for you," Julia smiled.

"He can wait. And he will," she giggled. "But not forever and not with the music. Now it's like he's been freed, and we didn't even realize he was in jail. Or maybe he chalked it up to Sunshine." Crystal said that name without rancor or hesitation. "But really, all this time it's been Phil. That first album was so, oh man."

"Lousy."

"You're kind," Crystal smiled. "It wasn't him, that guy on the bridge was right. Phil Gideon had every reason to wanna jump off the Golden Gate."

Julia sighed, then sat next to Crystal. As she did, she saw Phil pacing in the living room. "He's waiting."

Crystal turned, then waved. "He won't lose it before I get back in there."

"Oh my God!"

"He won't," Crystal laughed. "Good thing it's a girl."

"You're having another girl?"

"Bet you a hundred bucks. Lucky for him I'm horny all the time, just like I was with JJ."

Julia tapped her foot. Then she stood. "Look, he's gonna jerk off if you don't get back in there. I'll talk to you guys in a day or so."

"Julia, wait."

Julia stood at the gate as Crystal eased herself from the chair. "Don't deny yourself just because you think you shouldn't be happy."

Crystal's hand was warm on Julia's face, reaching toward Julia's temple. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't do what Phil's done all this time. I mean, maybe he had no choice, falling in love with Sunshine, but with the music, he's been a masochist for years. But don't tell him I said it like that."

"Uh, right, sure." Julia stared toward the house, saw Phil sitting on the sofa, reading a magazine. "He's waiting for you."

"And Helen's waiting for you to write that book. And Ray's waiting for you to just give him the word. One word Julia, that's all it'll take."

"Crystal, I don't even have half a syllable."

Julia's face was streaked with tears, but Crystal didn't move them away. Instead she took Julia's hand, placing it where a baby waited. "All you need is the nod of your head."
Chapter 12

" _Hey Penn, you busy? You better be because Grandma's all over my ass, wanting to know when she can read your book. I told her I was gonna get to read it first, but she's giving me crap, so you better be slaving away, you hear me Julia?"_

Lee and Chuck's first grandchild arrived in May, a son born to Liz and her boyfriend Adam. Julia waited through the night, then joined her sister and mother, Diane too. Carl Charles Chandler would possess his father's surname, but Liz wasn't interested in marriage, only in her new son arriving after so many females before him.

He had two sets of grandparents, also a great-grandmother; Helen was delighted with the red-headed little boy, whom she said looked like his Grandpa Penn. Chuck's usual crustiness reigned, but Julia had to wonder if her father was ready to crack, when Diane and her husband Wayne welcomed a son in early June. Flynn William Booker weighed nearly ten pounds and Crystal had almost been ill hearing that number. She decided drugs or even an epidural would be administered as soon as she went into labor. Helen kidded it was only due to Flynn's gender; Joanna had been a slight six and a half pounds, but Phil was a whopping eight pounds ten ounces. Crystal hit Phil on the arm as everyone joined in Diane's hospital room, admiring the plump, pink infant and his besotted parents.

Julia spent her days driving to San Jose to see her nephews, then turning right around for Berkeley, either lingering at Phil's or Helen's. Helen sometimes joined Julia, but she seemed weary when they returned. In late July, right after JJ turned two, Julia remarked upon this. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Helen sat on her small deck, looking to the bay. "Honey, I'm fine. Now, what've you been doing besides playing chauffer?"

Julia sighed. "I wrote a paragraph last week."

"Well well, one whole paragraph. I'm impressed."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"Are you being serous?"

"Grandma, come on!"

Julia gazed over the railing, not much to see but scattered clotheslines, patches of vegetables and flowers, and the occasional small tree. The bay was as vast as the empty page sticking out of her typewriter, or the interiors of her apartment, except for JJ's blocks and plastic cups that collected along the hallway. She loved colorful stacking toys that Julia set right when JJ was gone.

Carl and Flynn would be next, then another Gideon, a girl Crystal was certain. Julia was glad; she didn't want Phil to have a son. Did Helen, she wondered. "Grandma, do you wish they'd have a boy?"

"Who, Phil?"

"Yeah Phil."

"Oh, not really. Carl and Flynn are fine."

Julia smiled. Helen took all comers, but Julia couldn't, or wouldn't. Or she shouldn't, if she knew what was good for her.

Ray had stopped by the night before last and Abraham had played with JJ's toys. Julia wondered if her niece might she smell another toddler upon her cardboard books and Little Tykes garden? A large circular piece of shaped plastic sat in Julia's living room, with a small door that Abraham found interesting, but he preferred chewing on the white, yellow, and lavender plastic correspondence that rested in the blue mailbox. Maybe when JJ next visited she would taste another on those pieces of pretend mail, then shoot her aunt a look as if to say _Who's been sleeping in my bed?_

Not that Julia had let Ray spend the night. It was bad enough she had allowed him over at all, as if he was trying out the place with Abraham in tow. Between the Winston men and her new nephews, Julia wasn't getting any work accomplished.

She could tell Helen that; Helen never mentioned Ray, but if Julia breathed his name, perhaps Helen would get off Julia's back. Instead Julia sighed. "Grandma, I just have too much going on right now to work."

"Excuses, excuses Julia. You're full of them."

"Am I fulla shit too?"

Helen smiled. "Well, does that need to be stated?"

"Isn't it enough that Phil's gonna make another record?"

"Enough for him. That has nothing to do with you."

"Grandma..."

"Did you know I used to paint?"

Julia turned to see Helen fiddling with the afghan covering her lap. "No shit?"

"No shit."

They laughed, and Julia sat beside her, holding her hand. "Tell me."

"When Joanna was little, I drew, something I'd done since I was a girl. Daniel loved it, thought I should spend more time on it, but back then, a woman took care of her family. We'd wanted more, but for whatever reason, that didn't happen. Anyways, I kept drawing, and when Joanna went to school, Daniel bought me oils, paper, pencils, whatever he thought I might use. He didn't know anything about it, but I played around, and by the time Joanna was in high school, I spent a lot of my time out in the garage, when the weather was nice. In the winter I just drew in the house, but in summers..."

"My God Grandma! Phil never said anything about this, that asshole!"

"Phil doesn't know Julia. He has no idea."

Julia's throat grew tight. "You stopped before he was old enough to remember."

"I stopped painting when Stan died. Joanna needed so much, and there just wasn't time."

"When did you stop drawing?"

"When Joanna was hospitalized."

Julia stared at Helen. "I assume Phil doesn't know about that either."

"No, and I don't want him too, certainly not right now."

It was the most she would say about Larry Jerrold, and Julia nodded.

"It was when Phil was three and a half. She took a bunch of pills, sleeping pills. Daniel found her, oh my goodness. He about lost his mind, but she was close to losing hers. She spent six months being treated with electric shock therapy, which probably didn't help much. But we took Phil to see her when she was able to have visitors, and that seemed to shake her out of it. She would hold him, telling him all about Stan." Helen choked. "She loved him so, and while Phil didn't look anything like him, those eyes, so damned green! There were so few color pictures of Stan, and none of them ever did justice to his eyes."

Julia gripped Helen's hand. "Where are your paintings?"

"Gone. After she died, I burned them."

"Oh Helen!"

"I know, I know. You know how hard it was for me to sit in Ohio when Phil was going through all that with Sunshine? Both Daniel and I knew. Daniel couldn't keep his mouth shut, blaming himself, blaming Jerrold."

"He knew about Larry?"

"Not that Larry killed Stan, but that all of Larry's badgering had something to do with it. Stan was so young, and Joanna needed so much, she was never that strong. Julia, I've never said any of this to Phil, we never wanted to burden him, never felt that was right. Honey, I know you didn't get that break, and I'm sorry about that."

Julia bit her lip. "It's not your fault."

"No, but still it's not fair." Helen had a bitter laugh. "All these babies are growing up in the bosom of their parents, no acrimony, no bullshit." Helen sniffed. "Even that chunk of Ray's is gonna have it better than you or Phil ever did."

"Grandma, I, I don't know what to say."

Helen stood, then led Julia into the house, back to the spare bedroom where Stan's guitar had once lived. Julia's box of mementos had dwelled here too, for a little while, but now this room was a warehouse for Helen's past. She slid open the closet doors, removing a large portfolio. She set it on the twin bed, unzipped the case, exposing a large chalk drawing of a threesome. The man, with bright green irises, stared right at Julia.

"I made this not long before Joanna died, one of the last pieces I ever did, just as spring was hitting. Phil was still in school, Joanna at the store or gone for a walk. She used to take these really long walks around the neighborhood, sometimes I wondered if she'd ever come back. She never got over losing Stan, it stayed inside her, some dead breath she couldn't live without. Something came over me that spring, maybe I knew or maybe I was trying to breathe for her. I did this one in about a week, sneaking time here and there. Daniel knew about it, but Joanna and Phil never did."

Phil's face was that of a twelve-year-old, his parents as if still in their early twenties. Maybe Helen had no idea how to age Stan, but perhaps she hadn't wished to change her daughter, who seemed to have died right alongside her husband as if Larry Jerrold had fired two bullets on that December night, not just one. Julia removed the drawing, holding it close.

"Sometimes I wonder if JJ will look like this, I mean," Helen laughed. "She'll be prettier, but she's just so much like Phil, a tiny little Phil."

"At the rate she's growing, we'll know before too long."

"You will Julia."

The room felt airless. Julia's tears nearly splashed on the drawing, and she dropped it to the bed. "Grandma?"

"He doesn't know about these, but I'm gonna have to tell him about, well, about something else." Helen sighed, setting her hand on Julia's shoulder. "I really wanted to read one of your books honey. Maybe it'll be just a paragraph or two."

"Grandma?"

"Breast cancer, I, uh, I guess I can't complain about Daniel looking the other way anymore."

"No, no!" Julia gripped Helen, then moved the drawings, easing them both to the mattress.

"Honey, it doesn't matter now, not really. I'm eighty years old, I've seen my great-grandchild, what else is there?"

"But, but..."

"But nothing. I want you to keep these pictures. You can tell Phil what I told you. I really don't wanna say it to him myself. Or just keep it to yourself, whatever you like."

"Helen, no fucking way!"

"Julia, after seeing that video, I knew my daughter died for no good reason, Stan for even less. Stan died because of some asshole's inherent greed, but it's long under the bridge. Sometimes I wish I didn't know, sometimes I wish Larry Jerrold could've just died with that deed locked in his head. I'm sure he's in Crystal's heaven, not certain that's entirely fair. Better if I thought he'd gone to hell, but that's not very kind."

"Helen, there's gotta be something we can do, I mean..."

"There's nothing honey I want done. I just wanna see that coming baby, then..."

" _No!"_

"Julia, I wanna see that baby, but first, I wanna read what you've written. How much you have done honey?"

The book felt light years away, the book and Phil's youthful face, which was probably his daughter's face, only with longer hair. Crystal was letting JJ's hair grow; so far it reached her jaw. Small clips kept it from her eyes until JJ ripped them free, several brown strands liberated too. "Helen, this's bullshit! Why didn't you tell us, do something?"

"I'm old and tired. Nothing left for me to do."

"Helen!"

"Julia, it's my life. Now, you take a look at these pictures, and then decide."

"Decide what?" Julia shouted.

Helen stroked Julia's cheek. "Decide what you wanna tell Phil, if anything, and what you're gonna do about Ray and that little boy. You'd be good for him Julia, you really would, for them both. I know Ray's been a bit of a prick..."

Julia stood, shoving her fists into her sides. "Grandma, this is fucking ridiculous!"

"It is what it is. I'm sorry honey, I don't mean to lay all this on you. But my daughter didn't mean to end up the way she was, or Phil with all the crap he's suffered. Now tomorrow you come over here with whatever it is you've got written. You leave me with that, and you can take these, but not until I look through them one more time, see if I wrote down the dates when I did them, in case Phil ever wants to know. He's got artsy-fartsy genes on both sides, good lord, his kids aren't gonna know which way to turn."

Helen stood, taking Julia's trembling frame into her arms. "I mean really," she said, traces of tears in her voice. "Between their musical grandfather, an artist for a great-grandmother, and their Jesus-loving mama, anything could happen."

" _Hey Phil, oh Jesus Christ! Listen, you need to come over here, it's not about Ray. It's, uh..." A long breath was followed by several sobs. "It's about Grandma. Listen, when you hear this, just come over. I don't care when. If I don't answer just use your key. Phil, oh my God, please pick up! Phil, Crystal, anyone, please?"_
Chapter 13

By January of 1996, Phil had a decision: would he bury his grandmother's ashes there in California, or send her remains to Ohio? Or would he unearth Stan, Jo-Jo, and Daniel's caskets, hauling that trio west? Helen rested in an urn, but not at Phil's house. Her ashes resided at Julia's, after being left in Berkeley, causing Julia great consternation. In the middle of a pouring rain, Julia had driven across the Bay Bridge, retrieving Helen Reese's remains, setting them atop a bookshelf in Julia's apartment. But Abraham seemed to tumble into that shelf often, whether he was playing alone or if JJ was visiting, spurring Phil to decide what, if anything, to do with all of his dead relatives.

They spoke of this at Julia's, where it was easier for Phil to reflect upon his eastern roots. While Abraham and JJ ran amuck, Phil, Crystal, Julia, and Ray drank Pepsi, juice, wine, and beer while Crystal breast-fed five-month-old Ingrid Helen Gideon. The baby had kept Helen alive for longer than her doctor had predicted, but Helen hadn't chosen to die in her small Berkeley house. In November, she died at a hospice, held in Julia's arms while Phil bounced JJ on his knee. Crystal had cuddled Ingrid while Liz and Diane held Carl and Flynn close. Ray toted Abraham, and Lee and Chuck sat in chairs, Adam and Wayne near their partners and sons. Two days later all but Helen met at Julia's for Thanksgiving, but now a smaller group, with only a few children about, wrestled with what to do about Phil's grandmother.

Abraham and JJ made a racket, although the petite girl seemed to generate more noise. Julia still thought Abraham was worth at least two JJ's in size, but in speech JJ was quicker, always telling Abe what to do. JJ called him Abe, which was starting to catch on with the adults, but Julia preferred Abraham. She called him that and he called her Poppy to her slight chagrin and everyone else's delight. Poppy had been picked up by JJ, who alternated that with Aunt Julia. Even Phil used Poppy, especially when leaving Julia messages. They hadn't seen each other much since Helen's death; Phil was rehearsing his next album and Julia was writing. Except during the recent holidays, plenty of messages had been left, and Julia noticed more often than not, Phil was leaving them for Poppy.

"So, what are you gonna do?" she asked Phil while staring at Ingrid, who was busy nursing. Julia was fine being Poppy, but the charm with which Crystal breast-fed tugged at Julia's heart.

"I don't know." Phil looked past Julia. "JJ, what are you doing?"

"Daddy, Abe!" she shouted.

"Abraham..." Ray stood, then collected his son from where Abraham wouldn't let JJ into the plastic garden.

"She couldn't move him if she tried," Crystal laughed. She adjusted Ingrid, then sighed. "She might outtalk him, but she'll never get him to budge."

"I can barely move him," Ray said, carrying his son who protested. Ray sat with Abraham on his lap, but the boy leaned toward Julia, and she lifted him, setting him on one leg. Then she put him on two.

Then Julia leaned into Ray, unable to help herself. Little by little he had moved back into her apartment, after Helen's news and Ingrid's birth. Then Ray came home permanently after Julia showed Phil his grandmother's drawings. She hadn't told him about Jo-Jo's suicide attempt, wasn't sure if she ever would. Stan's murder was just starting to settle with Phil, no need to introduce additional trauma.

Julia sighed as a little boy snuggled against her, a larger man's arms around her. She hadn't wanted to fall in love again, but it was moot with Abraham, and with Ray... With Ray, Julia was just as helpless, but differently. With Abe, as she thought of him hearing JJ calling for her partner, Julia had not a single shred of recourse. When he left them to stay with his mother, Julia was gutted, then she would swallow that pain, as if holding her breath. With Ray, she felt little agony with his absence, some with his presence. When Ray went to work, leaving her alone, Julia missed Abe, and when Ray came home, she still missed Abe. Yet with Ray at her back, Abe shielding her front, Julia knew peace. She looked at Phil and smiled. "What are you staring at?"

"Just a happy Poppy. You look like you could walk on water."

"Fuck you Phil," she mouthed.

Crystal giggled. "Now, now children. Who needs a nap?"

"Abe needs a nap," JJ said, coming their way.

He shook his head, not moving from Julia's grasp.

Julia closed her eyes, not wishing to see Phil gloating or to watch Crystal and Ingrid. Julia had never desired her own baby, but the weight of Abe against her chest and the sound of Ingrid sucking away haunted her. "So what _are_ we gonna do with Grandma?" she said.

"Oh God," Phil sighed. He picked up JJ, and Julia peeked. That girl's eyes were drooping, Abe's sleepy demeanor like a virus. Julia wished to nod off, not think about Helen or anything else.

"I think we should just let her live in San Francisco. She liked going down to San Jose, seeing the boys, being driven all over the place. She was in Berkeley for a good while, now she can stay here for a bit."

"Crystal..." Phil said.

"No, I mean it. Just not on Julia's bookshelf is all."

Ray chuckled, then stood, walking to that piece of furniture. He wobbled it, then took the urn from the top. "It needs a better place, and not just due to the kids."

"You mean Abe," Phil smiled.

"Earthquakes too," Ray nodded.

"Abe's like an earthquake," Crystal giggled.

"He's like three," Phil said. "Listen, is she asleep?"

Julia peeked. "Dead to the world. Oh God, sorry."

They all laughed. "No, she is. I'd like to be, I think Piglet here is too." Crystal eased Ingrid from her breast. "Listen, as for the rest..."

"They should just stay there." Phil stood, setting his daughter over his shoulder. He walked around the room, moving scattered toys with his foot. "Let's just deal with one ghost for the time being."

Julia looked at Crystal, who nodded.

" _Hey Julia, just wanted to thank you and Ray and Abe for the nice orange juice." A hushed giggle. "Listen, Phil's asleep, but I also wanted to thank you for keeping Helen. I don't know what he wants to do about the rest of them, but I know he wants her here, and not in some crypt. If you and Ray are willing, I mean, that'd be great. And I guess we'll just see how it goes. Oh, gotta go, my boobs tell me a little girl's awake." Small tears and footsteps emerged. "Oh thanks honey, just talking to Julia. Okay, well, yeah. So again, thanks Poppy, and, uh, I'll call you later. Bye!"_

" _Hey Poppy, just me. I'm over at Grandma's. Gotta figure out what to do with this place. Glad I kept the phone here, Crystal wouldn't let me come over unless she could call and tell me to get my ass home." Small laughter. "So Poppy, I was thinking. I know you're not getting much work done over there, Grandma's probably pestering you, I'm sure that's it. Julia, I don't wanna sell this place. And it's not why you think. Actually, shit. I don't know what you're thinking, but then I have no idea what in the hell I'm thinking either. You know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that except for you and Crystal and our kids, all of my family's dead. Half of 'em have been dead since I was twelve, but now all of 'em are dead, and Julia, I don't know if I want them here. I mean, I never visited them when I went back to Columbus, what's the point of dragging them across the country? Maybe Grandma will be the stand-in for everyone. Julia, can I be honest with you?" A long chuckle. "Shit, if I can't be honest with you, who else is there? I need space from Dad, from all that. I heard from Axl a few days back, you believe it? Wanted to know if I wanted to get together, you know, said he was coming up here, just for a few days, said they were pretty messed up down there, they of course is everyone but him, what bullshit. They're all fucked up, but you know what Poppy? I am too. I mean, not with Crystal or the girls. God, they and you are all that's keeping me sane, you realize that Julia? All my adult life it's been women, well, all I remember is women fucking me over then setting me right. But since Crystal, you and her and JJ and Ingrid; Crystal's already talking about one more, and that's fine, I want three kids. Three girls. I don't want any sons. Not like it's my choice but..._ **Click**

" _Thanks Penn, thanks a lot. No, I'm kidding. Probably time for me to get off the phone. I came over here today to do some writing. Actually Crystal kicked me out, said they were all gonna nap, didn't want me waking everyone up. Hey Penn, Poppy, Julia Rose; hey you know what? I love you. I haven't told you that in a while, but I do, don't know what I'd do without you. Okay, I really need to get my act together. It's just that sometimes, when I come over here, just me, I think about being here after Sunshine, you know, after her, before Crystal, God what shitty days. But there's always been you. Then I go looking in the spare bedroom for your box, even though I know it's not here anymore." Laughter. "God, that still sounds obscene. Julia, I don't wanna fuck you, I haven't wanted that in a long time. But I'd like to go through your box again." Giggles erupted. "Okay, shit! Poppy, I'll talk to you later."_

"Knock knock," Julia said, unlocking the front door.

Phil stood from the sofa. "Hey, how are you?"

Their embrace was lengthy, then Julia plopped onto the couch, Phil next to her. "Fine. Just running errands, went and saw the folks. Stopped by your place, Crystal said you were here."

Phil noted the bag she had set down as soon as she stepped inside. "Yeah, just messing around. I've got recording time set for next week, gotta get my shit together before I just blow it all."

She nodded, then sniffled.

"Penn, what is it?"

"I, uh, brought you something." She stood, collecting the bag. Reaching in, she took out the cigar box, placing it on what had been Helen's coffee table.

Phil stared at Julia's keepsake box. Then he smiled. "Oh Poppy!"

"I want you to keep it here. I mean, I've got custody of Helen so..."

"Julia, shit! Are you sure?"

"Better for the kids to knock Grandma onto the floor than get into this. This's pretty, uh, well..."

Phil gripped her hands. "Why?"

Julia stood, then walked to the sliding glass door. Spring had arrived, but the day was gray and cool, and she kept her back to Phil. "I love you, you know."

"I love you too. Julia, what?"

"Maybe that's why I haven't been able to write." She faced him. "Ray's been saying that to me for years, that I needed to get rid of that thing. When it lived here with you, I did get some work done." She laughed. "Not a lot, but some."

Phil joined her, taking her in his arms. She felt shaky and depleted. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"Ray said Aurora's asked him for another child. She wants Abe to have a little brother or sister. Personally," Julia sniffed, "I think she's jealous of JJ. Abe talks about her all the time, that's what Ray says, when he's over there visiting. And when Abe comes to our house, he's always wanting to know when JJ and Ingrid are gonna come over."

"What in the hell does Aurora expect, Ray as her beck and call fertility service?"

"He wants another kid, I know he does and..."

"And you're scared to death."

She nodded.

"Do you wanna have a baby Julia?"

"I wanna write a novel, I know that. And I, I..." She looked back at the bay. "I don't want him to _not_ have that, I mean, he sees you, just you." She wiped her face. "Liz and Diane told me, separately, neither of them wants another. Mom's not gonna be thrilled." Julia turned to Phil. "But I guess she can just console herself with you and Super-Mama."

Phil chuckled. "One more, that's all Lee's getting outta us."

"Phil, I wish it was simple. I wish..." She looked at the coffee table. "Remember when it was just you and me and I hated Arthur and Claire and you thought your dad had just lost his mind for those few minutes. We used to go visit Daniel and Helen, or Chuck and Lee, our lives were so small, so contained."

"So fucked over," Phil added. "You're forgetting Sunshine and Axl and..."

She smiled. "No, I just didn't wanna include them."

"That's convenient Poppy."

"I used to be Julia."

"You'll always be Julia. Do you wanna be something more?"

She trembled, and Phil hugged her. "I don't want Ray and Aurora to have another baby, I can tell you that."

"Can you tell him that?"

"Yeah, but I don't know if he'll listen."

Phil sensed her desires; Julia wished to have Ray's baby but not, write her novel but not. Keep the box in her house but not, and that was the easiest issue she could deal with, if Phil played along. "Julia, if I asked to be the guarder of your cigar box..."

"The guarder, oh that sounds ridiculous. You'd be the keeper Phil."

"Okay, the keeper of your..." He started to laugh. "God, that really does sound creepy."

"Oh Phil, guard my box, please?"

"You're a sicko Penn."

"All the more reason I should never have kids."

She stepped away, going into the kitchen, opening the fridge. "What, no Pepsis?"

"I'm trying to quit."

She laughed. "God, now I know the end times are here. Why'd you quit?"

"I, uh, had to get a cavity filled."

She stared at him, then burst into giggles. "You had to get a cavity filled, oh that's rich Gideon. One little cavity and..."

"I'm thirty-six you know. Can't keep sucking back soda all my life."

"Thirty-six, shit Phil! Thanks for reminding me."

"We're both on the downhill side to forty Poppy. Can't do a thing to change it."

She drank some water, offering him a glass. He shook his head.

"What, they don't fluoridate the water on this street?" she smiled.

"Julia, would Ray do it, I mean..."

"Not if I said _no_."

"No to what?"

"No to him and Aurora. I mean, if I came out and told him not to..."

"But if you said _yes_ to your own little Winston?"

She looked to the floor. "You ever clean in here Gideon? Man, this floor's a mess!"

"Kids never come over, no point."

"No point? What would Grandma say?"

"Oh, she'd probably shake her finger at me. Or at you. You could do it."

"Not my house. I don't even clean my own place Phil."

"Yeah I know. Ray does a great job."

Julia sniffed. "You've been no help whatsoever. Just wasting my time Gideon, like usual."

He said nothing, then both stared at the box.

"So, I'll keep that here?" Phil offered.

"Yeah, uh, thanks. That'd be great."

"I'll put it with Dad's stuff in the spare room."

Julia nodded. Nothing of Helen's waited there. Her pictures, along with her ashes, were in San Francisco.

Julia finished her water, then set the glass in the sink. "Well, okay, thanks Phil. At least one thing in my life's arranged." She gathered the empty bag, then her purse, heading for the door.

Phil caught her arm just as she went to leave. "Julia, do you wanna have a baby?"

She bit her lip. "I don't wanna _screw up_ a baby."

"We'll help, lots of help Julia."

"What would Abe think? I mean, he'd call me Poppy and a baby would call me Mommy and..."

"And so what? You can be whoever you want, you're thirty-six years old." He stroked her face. "You're a big girl now, it's okay."

"But Arthur and Claire, oh Phil, they'd just, oh God!"

"Screw Arthur and Claire. What are they now, a hundred and ten?"

She giggled. "They just had their birthdays in January. He turned eighty-nine and she's right behind him. Shit Phil, they're gonna live forever."

"They're not, you know. And neither are you."

"I know."

"Julia, if you have a baby, you can put off the novel."

"Is that a dare?"

"Think of it as a way to prolong the inevitable. You're gonna write that book one of these days. Like me with this record," he smiled. "Gonna make it eventually."

"Next week, I think you said."

"Whether I want to or not. Crystal's gonna drag me into that studio kicking and screaming."

"Nice to see you throwing a fit instead of JJ or Ingrid."

"Yeah, one of us is always causing trouble."

"Better you all than me."

She went to leave, but Phil stopped her. "Is it Penn? I mean, maybe you need to make a little noise. You or..." He set a hand to the center of her body. "A little Poppy. Mama Poppy and Baby Poppy. You've done great as a daddy, now maybe it's time to move down the road."

"God, what would Ray say?" she laughed. "What would Aurora say! Oh she'd be pissed..."

"And your dad would be thrilled. He would and Lee, oh my God! They wouldn't know what to say."

"Stop this Phil."

"Stop what Julia?"

"Stop channeling, oh God, I dunno! My mother, all your dead relatives. Phil, shit. I gotta go."

She stepped away, then looked back. Phil just grinned at her.
Chapter 14

" _Hey Phil, how's the record coming?"_

" _Hey Julia, how's the..." Giggles turned to laughter. "How's the writing going?"_

" _Hey Phil, I, uh, just wanted to tell you I've finished another chapter. Oh and some, uh, good news. Aurora just dropped Abe off, looked pretty green. Ray's not been with her, I can also tell you that."_

" _Hey Penn, just bumped into Ray. He said Aurora's pregnant, but it's not his. Said it with a pretty pleased face. Anyone else I gotta wonder about?"_

" _Hey Phil, Crystal. How you all doing? I, uh, finished another chapter. That's two in the last month. I know, I know, Armageddon is upon us. So, Ray and I want you guys to come over for dinner. Aurora's pretty sick these days, we've had Abe all week. Weird that with him here, I get a lot done. Shut up Phil, I don't wanna hear it!"_

" _Hey Julia, Ray, it's Crystal. We'd love to come for dinner. I'll bring the breast milk."_

" _Hey Phil, I called you at Grandma's because I didn't want Crystal to hear this. If you could erase this afterwards, I'd appreciate it. Phil, I'm pregnant. It just, uh, happened. But now I'm not sure. Ray doesn't know, you're the only one who does. Phil, I'm so scared. Claire called today, like I needed any more strum und drang. She wanted to know how you and the kids were, she rarely asks about Abe, which pisses me off, but today it was all I could do to just stay on the line. I took the test this morning, after Ray left. Phil, I don't think I can do this, I don't think I could set a baby into her hands, she doesn't deserve it, neither of them do, and then I feel like I don't, oh God Phil. Listen, we'll see you guys tonight, but I wanted to tell you, I needed to tell someone. Just whatever you do, for God's sake, don't say anything. I mean, I'm not gonna get an abortion today, although I've considered it." A nervous cough is followed by the clearing of a throat. "So, uh, yeah. I'll see you later. Oh, and Phil? Bring the box, I need to see something in it. Bye."_

When the Gideons arrived, Crystal sat immediately, as Ingrid wanted to nurse. JJ ran around, looking for Abe. Ray explained that Abe was at his mommy's house, but JJ was disbelieving, and for ten minutes she searched high and low. Then she cried for twenty minutes, but that wasn't the main cause of dinner's delay.

In Julia and Ray's bedroom, Julia rummaged through her keepsake box. She set it on the floor, then wept in Phil's grasp, both sitting on the edge of the bed. She apologized and ranted in the same breaths, furious with herself for letting down her guard, then irate at Claire. Then she worried about Phil. "You don't hate me, do you?"

"I love you Julia. I could never hate you."

She pulled Helen's afghan over herself. "I just can't do it, I cannot set a baby, my baby, into her arms."

He stroked her face, then grabbed a tissue, wiping her cheeks. "I understand honey, I really do."

"If Ray ever learns, that's it for us. He'd never forgive me. Phil, do you forgive me?"

Phil gripped her hands. "Julia, there's nothing to forgive."

"Oh Phil, there's everything. I should've known better, I shouldn't have done it!"

"You okay in there?" Crystal called from outside the door.

"Yeah. Go ahead and feed JJ," Phil replied.

"Ray can do it, I'm still feeding Piglet."

Julia laughed. "You know what Phil?"

"What?"

"I used to, well, I'm still jealous of her, of that. That's the only part I wish I could do, oh God, I am so fucked up!"

"Baby, it's okay."

"No it's not, because if there was some way I could go ahead with this, but just never set foot in Florida, I might. But you know what? As soon as they knew, I'd never hear the end of it. I would never get to live my life again. And Phil, oh Christ, it's not fair!"

She flung herself backwards onto the mattress and he lay beside her. "Baby, you're absolutely right, it's not fair that they've done this to you, but you're also right. They'd never let you live without the biggest guilt trip unless you went there, and I know you couldn't do that. Not to anyone's baby."

"It's my baby Phil, I did this. Now all I want is to kill it. God, I'm no better than..."

"Julia, it's totally different."

They stared at each other. "Is it Phil? I wonder."

"It is. Sunshine didn't have any reason to do what she did, not really. Claire and Arthur are more reasons than anyone should have."

"I just, it's not even about me. Isn't that the worst of it? All I can think about are them, God, like they _are_ gonna live for fucking forever, never give me any peace. I can't even have a baby without them screwing it up!"

Phil set his lips along the side of her face, but didn't reach for her temples; that region had been off-limits with all but his wife and daughters since Hilary Jerrold's visit. "Honey, I love you. I'll go with you. You won't have to do this alone."

"Oh Phil!"

"You can stay at our house. I'll tell Ray that the girls need their Auntie Julia for a day or two, however long you need."

"Shit, Phil, I can't ask that of you."

"You don't need to ask."

She looked at him. "Are you sure that Crystal, I mean..."

"She's a very open-minded freak."

Julia nodded. "I don't wanna offend her."

"You won't. She loves you."

"She might not after this."

"You'd be surprised."

"Yeah?"

Phil kissed her cheek. "Yeah honey."

A week later, Julia lounged in the sun on the Gideon's deck. JJ napped in the house, but Crystal and Ingrid sat nearby, and Julia blinked as she stared into the sky.

"You need anything Julia?"

She wanted to say _a hole in the head_ , but declined. "No, thanks though."

Crystal set Ingrid over her shoulder and two large burps emerged. "God, but she's loud." Then the baby was placed on the other breast, and Julia noted the quiet between a mother and child. For five minutes Ingrid was placid, then she began to fuss.

"She okay?" Julia asked.

"Yeah, just getting a tooth. She might be noisy tonight."

"Does that hurt, I mean..."

"Well, no fun cutting through gums."

"No, I mean, for you."

Crystal laughed. "So far it's been okay. JJ was just starting to bite a little, then I got pregnant..."

"It's okay. I mean, you can say that."

"Julia, are you okay?"

The process had been straightforward, not painless, but not much more than a pap smear. Then Julia grimaced. It had been more than an annual appointment, and she was going to talk to Ray; she wanted a tubal ligation, or for him to have a vasectomy.

"Crystal, thank you for being so kind."

"I love you Julia. I don't blame you in the least."

Blame was a funny word, but Julia felt it was appropriate. She had considered a baby, found herself with one, then changed her mind. Then as easily as it had been conceived, it was removed by a simple procedure, safe and legal. That Ray was in the dark was Julia's main sliver of guilt, otherwise she felt no deep remorse. And Crystal didn't blame her; what more could Julia want?

She wanted to have felt capable of having a child, but Arthur and Claire had made damned sure she'd never feel able to be more than a Poppy. She was still Abe's Poppy, and something similar to JJ, Ingrid, Carl, and Flynn. But she would never set an infant to her aching breasts. Her boobs hurt, or maybe it was what lay underneath.

"Julia, I'm sorry. That was poorly worded."

"No, it wasn't. I did this, it's my fault."

"It's Arthur and Claire's fault. You never stood a chance." Then Crystal cleared her throat. "I had one, when I was nineteen. Sometimes shit happens."

"Really?" Julia sat up, seeing tears along Crystal's face.

"I got pregnant on purpose, trying to keep a boyfriend. Then he broke up with me anyway, and there I was, what was I gonna do? I didn't want it, I wanted him. Julia, that's when I," Crystal giggled, still crying. "That's when I found Christ. I was gonna say that's when I found Jesus, but that's sounds so over the top. But it was. I was watching people on the bridge, thinking about jumping, because the idea of having an abortion to ease my own life seemed dreadful. Jeez, doesn't that sound awful?"

"Crystal, I love you." Julia moved from the chair, kneeling by Crystal and her baby. Ingrid sucked on her mother's boob, and Julia stroked the baby's face. This child had Crystal's blue eyes and easy smile. "What happened?"

"I was standing there, just like Phil had been. That's why I knew with him, because I'd done the same thing. I just stood there, weighing my options. It had nothing to do with my family. Mom and Dad wouldn't have cared, not if I'd kept it or didn't. Only that I realized how selfish I'd been, wanting him to want me, then getting pregnant so he'd have no choice. But guess what, he did have a choice." Crystal leaned down, her short brown hair brushing over Ingrid's small body.

"But I did too Julia, thank the lord. I stood there, looking at the water, and I heard a voice, I swear." She laughed. "It told me to go take care of things. And for a minute I looked around, but no one was close, and then I felt it, right here." She pointed to her heart. "I knew it was him, God." She smiled. "Sounds funny to say that, like God just talks to anyone, anytime. But he does, he did, and he told me to take care of things. And Julia, I knew what he meant, and I about fell down right there. I had to grip the side of that railing like if I let go it would too and I'd fall right over."

She sighed. "Phil did that, time after time, and I knew I loved him, and all I wanted was to go to him, but God told me to just wait. I had to wait for him, for those assholes too," she whispered. "Sorry Ingie. But they were, then I could run to him. I told him I loved him right from the beginning. And I did, and I do, and now Julia, I have two children, two daughters. And if God wants, we'll have another whenever Piglet here decides she can share."

Crystal looked at Julia. "Honey, all the pro-lifers in the world can talk until they're blue in the face, but I knew what he wanted. And you know what, it wasn't what I wanted. I would've rather died than have an abortion, pride maybe? I dunno. But I walked away from the bridge, and the very next day I took care of it. I told Mom, she went with me, but she had to leave. She couldn't take even the small pain I felt, waited for me out in the lobby."

"That's why she wasn't with you during labor."

Crystal nodded. "She can barely sit with me when I have a headache. Julia, who knows what my life would've been like if I'd had that child. Maybe I'd be sitting here, maybe not. Maybe Phil would be dead, maybe not. Maybe you'd be pregnant, maybe not. All I can tell you is that I love you, and you've done the best you could. We all make mistakes, and I use that word correctly. Me hoping to keep a guy by getting knocked up was awful. You wishing to make everyone happy wasn't smart either. If Ray gets his panties in a bunch and does something stupid, well, you can't do anything about that. Seems Aurora's done it again, maybe you guys will end up with another baby."

"Crystal, how can you be so, so, so..."

"Self-assured?"

Julia smiled, feeling a huge wave of peace. "Yeah. I mean, how in the hell can you be so blasé about it?"

"It's not being blasé. It's just not all about me."

Julia laughed. "God, what a concept!"

Crystal gripped Julia's hand. "Yup, it truly is."

" _Hey Phil, Crystal, just wanted to thank you guys for the, uh, hospitality. Ray thinks it did me a world of good, but I don't even know how to react to that. Some, uh, news; Aurora's asked Ray if we can take Abe full-time. She, uh, seems to be having second thoughts about, uh, motherhood. I don't know all the details, I mean, I don't know if the guy she's with changed his mind. She's due in September, and Ray's been talking with her, telling her that if she has it, but doesn't wanna keep it, that we'll take it. I don't even know what to make of all this. Makes me almost wanna tell him, but I think I'm just gonna keep my mouth shut. Crystal, thanks, uh, for sharing. Did you tell Phil what you told me? Uh, maybe I should just keep my mouth shut all the time. Okay, uh, bye."_

" _Hey Penn, that's pretty wild about Aurora. Crystal told me what happened on that first night, you know, that I didn't jump. We couldn't have sex so we spent all night talking." A small chuckle._

" _Not all night Phil," Crystal shouted toward the phone. "Just 'cause I couldn't have sex doesn't mean you didn't get something."_

Phil cleared his throat. "So anyways Julia, yeah, so, uh... Well, you never know what's gonna happen next Penn. Just, uh, keep writing, okay? I'll talk to you later, stop laughing Crystal!"

"Knock knock."

"Come in."

Julia opened the door, heard Phil's guitar. He sat on the deck, and she set her purse on the sofa. "Hey, that sounds good. I thought you were at the studio today."

"Later." He stood, kissing her, the guitar between them. "Girls were all sleeping so I came over here for a little bit of practice. How are you?"

"Good, it's getting warm." Julia leaned over the railing, then looked at the bay. "Can't believe JJ's gonna be three next week."

"Yeah, like a flood. Carl then Abe, Flynn, JJ. Ingie's nearly walking."

"The only time she's not hooked to Crystal's boobs."

Phil laughed, taking the guitar from around his shoulder. Then he put his arms behind his head. "She likes it there, a good place to be."

"Yeah, she takes after her daddy."

"In some ways. Looks more like Crystal every day I think."

Julia smiled, turning his way. "One like you, one like her. What about the next huh?"

"Oh, if Ingie has her way, I don't think there's gonna be another for a while."

Julia sat beside him. "Aurora came over this morning, told us she wants us to raise the baby."

"Yeah?"

Julia nodded. "Phil, she's, uh, weird." Julia laughed. "God, that's not very descriptive. Pretty indicative of the sort of writer I am, as in not very much of one."

"We're just late bloomers Penn. That's what I've decided."

She nodded. "She said she wants this baby and Abe to be raised as siblings. Phil, why are people so bizarre? Or is it us; are we destined to attract those that for whatever reason just lose some or most of their minds?"

He laughed. "Maybe. I mean, when I think about how Crystal and I met..."

She looked toward the bay, then at Phil. "I didn't mean your wife."

"Julia, what?"

She stood, then stared at the horizon. "I've been thinking about my parents." Julia looked back in Phil's direction, but didn't meet his eyes. "Chuck and Laura."

"Uh-huh."

"Been thinking about how they met, you know, he was giving her a traffic ticket. Just this innocuous meeting, he was this new cop, and she was already writing. Claire and Arthur never liked him you know."

Julia again faced west. "They thought he was so beneath her, and in a way he was, intellectually. Shit, Lee's smarter than my dad."

"Julia?"

"I've been thinking about Stan too, about Stan and Larry, now Aurora and some baby she thought she had to have, sort of like me, like Laura. Dad said something about it the last time I was over there. Ray was telling them that we might get custody of Aurora's baby, God, sounds like a fucking soap opera. Lee was happy, you know, another grandchild." Julia smiled. "Liz and Diane told them they're not having any more kids. No pressure Phil, no pressure."

"Ha ha."

Julia nodded. "Then out of the blue Dad said that Laura wasn't keen on having kids, I mean, she was in her late twenties when I came along, and they'd been together a while. He implied," Julia groaned, "that I was his idea. Can you believe that?"

"Sure."

She stared at him. "What?"

"Your dad loves you. He's just a crusty old cop who can't breathe right anymore. Grandma used to tell me she was surprised he was still around."

"He's been in bad shape for a long time. Wouldn't it piss off Arthur and Claire if he outlived them?"

"Yeah, if they could be aware."

"Yeah, like if they knew they were dying, but Chuck Penn just kept on ticking."

"Something like that."

They said nothing, then Julia took her seat. "Phil, when Dad was saying this, it was just a few little sentences, I mean, he barely says squat when we go over there, only bitching at the television. But we were sitting in the kitchen, and Abe was playing with the cord on Dad's tank, you know, just running his hands along it, not trying to mess it up, and I swear Phil, I was just waiting for Dad to scold him, but Ray told him to stop it. Dad just took Abe's hand, you know, really gently, and set it on the table. I've never seen my dad so, so..."

"Tender."

"Yeah, not with any of us girls, I mean, he's good with Carl and Flynn and your kids, but with Abe, it was something different."

"He's yours Julia. He sees Abe as yours and you're special to Chuck, you really are."

She poked at the guitar, then held it like she could play. "Phil, it was weird. I'm still glad I had the abortion, but a part of me thinks, what would he have done if I ever did put a grandkid in his arms, hell, just in his reach?"

"You did, Abe's your kid Poppy."

"You think?"

"Of course. And you've got another coming. Julia, life is weird. We're all weird. Can't get away from it."

"Especially here in California," she smiled.

"Oh now Penn." Phil took the guitar, then motioned for her. Julia leaned Phil's way, then began to cry. "Oh honey, especially here in California. All the best ones are in the Golden State." Phil rocked her slowly. "Those assholes are getting their UV cancer rays in Florida. But here on the West Coast, the best are doing their thing, one day at a time."
Chapter 15

" _Hey Abe! Don't forget the Beauty and the Beast tape, okay? I love you. Oh, it's JJ. Bye."_

" _Hi JJ. Hey, Poppy says you have it, she says Uncle Phil probably hid it. I'll see you soon."_

" _Hey Abe, Mommy says Uncle Ray likes to watch it. I asked Aunt Liz, but she says Carl thinks it's dumb. I think Carl's dumb. What Mommy? Okay, I won't say dumb anymore." JJ's voice went to a whisper. "He is dumb. But Flynn will watch it with us, and Ingie says she won't bite him again. But I don't believe her, so don't sit by her at the party, okay? Sit by me." JJ cleared her throat. "Okay so Abe, I'll see you later. Bye."_

" _Hi JJ, it's me, Abe. Poppy says I hafta sit next to Jude. Daddy wants to know what Marisa wants, but I told him I was gonna sit next to you. Maybe Jude can sit next to Ingie. I'll see you later JJ."_

" _Hey Abe, Daddy says to ask Aunt Julia if she's been watching the Beauty and the Beast tape. He says she probably has been. He says Marisa wants a Pepsi for her birthday but Mommy yelled at him. I think that's dumb," JJ whispered. "Okay Abe, see you later, bye!"_

" _Hi JJ, this is Aunt Julia. Tell your daddy that we're not bringing any Pepsis but if doesn't tell me what Marisa wants he's gonna get tickled. I'll hold him down and you and your sisters can go for it. Okay, we'll see you in about an hour! Love you sweetie."_

At Marisa Edie-Lee Gideon's second birthday, a plethora of children sat in front of Phil and Crystal's television, watching for the umpteenth time Disney's _Beauty and the Beast_. It was JJ and Abe's favorite movie, also high on Ingie and Flynn's list. Carl hated it, so did Jude, but those boys would sit with the rest, Jude beside his older brother Abe, Carl next to Ingrid, who sat near Flynn. Only the birthday girl was absent; two-year-old Marisa was nearly asleep at her mother's breast.

Phil and Crystal's last child turned two in September of 1999, and Crystal had said she would breastfeed as long as Marisa wanted. Sometimes Ingie would stand close, never insinuating, but that as if by osmosis she too was that attached to her mother. That day four-year-old Ingrid sat with the rest, swept away in song and animation, even Carl, the most independent of the group. He seemed to have a soft spot for Ingie, even if she had bitten Flynn at her birthday party last month. Abe and JJ were inseparable and Ingie and Carl were attached at the hip. That left Jude and Flynn to fight over Marisa, but she was besotted with her mother's bosom.

Phil had undergone a vasectomy a few months after Marisa's birth, so those two boys would have to settle on a compromise, or actually look outside the group for a mate. Phil pondered that frequently as these seven kids were together more often than not, even if Carl and Flynn lived in San Jose, Abe and Jude across the bay. Maybe it was the time of year, birthdays one after another; Jude had turned three just last week, and now it was Marisa's special day. Phil smiled at the collection of parents and grandparents. Even Chuck seemed to be enjoying himself, sitting on the sofa, engrossed in the movie. Julia often commented that these kids were getting more out of him than she and her sisters ever had. As Jude moved from the group on the floor, Chuck patted the seat beside him. The boy scrambled onto the sofa, and was enfolded in Chuck's grip, the thin oxygen cord snaking along, but Jude knew to avoid it. Within seconds Jude's eyes were closed, a wide smile on Chuck's face.

Chuck griped about the coming new millennium, worried that all his savings would be lost when computers crashed, yet simplistic notions eased him. Phil stood, taking empty glasses to the kitchen. He heard someone follow, and Julia met him at the sink, her gaze back to her father.

"He seems, my God," she whispered. Then she giggled. "Liz, Diane, and I talk about this, but none of us are jealous. At least someone's cracked his shell."

Phil kissed her cheek. "You all did, he just didn't know how to express it. Came home after dealing with crap all day, then what? It was the times Penn, the times and his life."

She nodded. "No, I mean, I'm so glad."

"I know Poppy, I know."

Julia and Ray had raised Abe from the time he was two, but Jude, the spitting image of his mother Aurora, was equally a carbon copy of his Poppy in his slightly furtive but clingy manner. Aside from his nursing daughter, Phil thought Jude was one of the neediest kids ever, and that Chuck could sense it made Phil smile. Chuck's emphysema had grown worse, but however long he had left, he showered his grandchildren and Phil's girls with affection none of his daughters ever felt to possess.

Chuck was especially fond of Julia's sons, and Phil embraced her, feeling maternal love within her arms. Claire and Arthur ignored Abe and Jude, and the boys had no idea of grandparents beyond Chuck and Lee and Tom and Edie. Ray's parents had died right after Jude's birth, but Phil felt no sorrow there with Julia. Neither she nor Ray had been present for Jude's arrival, but within minutes he was taken to them, Phil and Crystal present too. As Julia stepped away from Phil, he wiped her face. Aurora's boys belonged to Julia; subsequently they were Chuck's grandsons too.

"Hey, you okay?" Phil asked her.

"There's just so little time left for him." Julia pulled Phil into the laundry room, but she didn't close the door. Then she giggled. "Don't get any ideas Gideon."

He laughed. "You can't have kids, neither can I, we're even now Penn."

She'd had a tubal ligation just days after Phil's vasectomy, and both had been hobbled for over a week. "Phil, Mom says he's really starting to have trouble."

Chuck had spent much of the summer in and out of the hospital, and Phil felt as shaky as Julia when it came to the idea of Chuck's demise. He had been another surrogate father to Phil, yet when Chuck went, Julia would suffer. She tried to make light of it, always joking with her dad, but her children had introduced tenderness between a father and his daughters. All three girls were closer to Chuck, four little boys the bridge.

Phil's daughters had been a part of it too, but more were those small men, what Chuck called his grandsons. Abe, Carl, Flynn, and Jude were a roving pack of Civil War-named marauders that could easily upset the daintiest tea party JJ and Ingie had arranged. JJ and Abe were like lovers at times, but if he was with _The Guys_ , as Crystal and Julia called them, he forgot all about JJ as a playmate. She was a female, and was run roughshod accordingly. Ingie had started biting as the girls' only line of defense.

Phil caressed Julia's face, but still avoided her temples. Now he only touched Crystal there, and just when they made love. He'd never had sex with Julia, but when Chuck died, Phil assumed they might do everything but to console each other. He didn't think Crystal would mind, and Ray wouldn't have any room to complain. Julia had started voicing her concerns about her father's ill health, not that she could do anything about it. That Arthur and Claire Riley remained spry and annoying in their early nineties seemed grotesque. Julia never went to Florida, but in weekly phone calls Claire grated on Julia's nerves due to her usual flurry of antagonism, and her silence toward Julia's children. The Rileys never sent Abe or Jude anything for their birthdays or at Christmas, slapping Julia's face as hard as their endless, bitter comments about Julia's father. They were back to calling Chuck a murderer, as enough years had passed since Hilary Jerrold had shredded a part of Phil's heart, rebuilt between his daughters and therapy. Phil didn't see his shrink anymore, but had pleaded with Julia to speak to someone. Claire talked so much shit that Julia needed a shield.

Instead she wrote, was still working on that novel. Phil had released his third album, and was preparing to record another. His third CD had garnered good reviews, if not stunning sales, putting him back on the map. Now he felt even more able, and he wanted to set some of that confidence into Julia. She was poised in her role as a mother, or a Poppy; the boys never called her _Mama_. She was their Poppy, Aurora their birth-mom, Ray their dad. As a Poppy, Julia was peerless. As a daughter she was improving. As a grandchild... Phil kissed her on the mouth.

"Hey Gideon, no sex in the laundry room," she laughed. "Or at least not with me. Do I need to go get your wife?"

"Fat chance. Marisa's got her right where she wants her."

"No shit. Good thing she's your last."

He smiled, then set the edges of his fingers near Julia's eyes. Both were silent. Then he kissed the tip of her nose. "I'll always love you Penn, not a fucking thing I can do about it."

She trembled, then giggled. "Guess that makes me the luckiest girl on Earth."

He chuckled, then leaned against the dryer, folding arms over his chest. "Well, maybe only Crystal would agree."

"Phil, Mom said he's made a will." Her laughter was nervous. "Can you imagine? What in the hell does Dad need a will for? Like he's gonna parcel out all his shit: Julia, you get this empty oxygen tank. Liz, you get my old uniforms. Diane, here's the TV remote. Guard these things with your lives girls."

Phil grinned. "God only knows what he's got stored in the garage."

"I know, Christ! Like the treasures of Fred Sanford or something."

"He wants to make sure everything's safeguarded against Y2K."

Julia laughed so hard that Phil heard footsteps. It was JJ, who stood with hands on her hips in the doorway. "Daddy, Aunt Julia, we can't hear the movie!"

Phil picked up his still petite daughter. Ingrid was nearly as tall as her older sister. "I know, we're just joking around."

"Mommy wanted to know if the door was closed in here. But I said you were being so loud, it couldn't be."

Julia started laughing again, and Phil tickled JJ. "Yeah, I bet she wanted to know."

"Well, you never know with you two," Crystal said, approaching with Marisa in her arms.

"What, you got nothing left for her?" Julia took the girl, who looked like a mix of her parents. Marisa had Phil's green eyes but her mother's kind face, and wasn't as small as JJ had been.

"You know, she doesn't even get anything from me anymore, just likes to sit there and suck."

"Maybe she's just making sure no one follows her."

"If she ends up a lesbian, I won't be surprised." Crystal giggled. "Just likes boobies, don't you pretty girl?"

"I like cake," Marisa said clearly.

"Now cake we got." Crystal ruffled her daughters' brown tresses. JJ's reached the middle of her back, but Marisa's hung to her jaw, and she shook her head, laughing. "Jeez, like you need anything to hype you up. Okay, cake for the birthday girl." She smiled, then giggled. "It might wake up Jude and Chuck."

"Are they both out?" Julia whispered as they left the laundry room. From where she stood in the Gideons' kitchen, Chuck's head was just visible over the top of the sofa.

"Both are snoring like logs. We could barely hear you guys over that din."

Setting JJ down, Phil took Marisa from Julia. "If we don't wake them, both'll be pissed as hell."

"I'll do it. Come on Marisa. Let's go get Grandpa Chuck."

Julia retrieved her niece, the two-year-old repeating _Grandpa Chuck_ as Julia stepped toward the living room. JJ followed, chanting the litany, as Phil pulled his wife close, kissing her forehead, savoring the moment.

" _Hi Aunt Crystal! Thanks for having Jude and me over to your house. Can you have JJ call me back please?" A hushed whisper. "Oh yeah, this is Abe."_

" _Hi Aunt Julia. Can you tell Abe to call me? Thanks." A muffled admonishment. "Oh yeah, this is JJ. Bye!"_

" _Hellooo..." A long giggle. "Aunt Julia, is Carl there?" Another chuckle. "I heard Carl was at your house today. This is Ingie. Tell Carl I love him, okay? Mama, is that okay? Oh and Aunt Julia, if you see Flynn, tell him I promise I won't bite him again. Okay Mama, is that enough? Oh, okay. Bye Aunt Julia, bye Uncle Ray. Bye Abe, bye Jude." Long giggles as Ingie hung up the receiver, all by herself._

" _Hi JJ, it's me, Abe. Okay, so the plan is we're gonna trick or treat there first. Then go to Grandma and Grandpa Penn's. Then Poppy says we're going to Grandma Edie's. That's where everyone's gonna meet, Carl and Flynn too, for Uncle Phil's birthday party. Carl says Flynn's not mad at Ingie anymore. Carl says he's gonna marry Ingie, but I don't think he will. I think Ingie will bite Flynn again. Don't tell them I told you. Bye."_

" _Hey Abe? This is JJ. Call me about Flynn, okay?"_

" _Hello? Hello, hello, hello?" Copious giggles. "Poppy, Abe? Mama, Daddy?"_

" _Say goodbye Marisa."_

" _Goodbye Marisa!" Followed by shrieks of three girls' laughter._

" _Hello, Ingie, you there? I'm, it's Jude. Ingie, don't bite Flynn. Happy Halloween!"_

Thanksgiving was spent in Berkeley at the Gideons' house. All were in attendance, except Chuck, who since Monday had been in the Alta Bates Summit Hospital with heart problems. He had insisted that everyone spend their afternoon at Phil's, but Lee merely dropped off deviled eggs, and would be spelled by her daughters throughout the latter part of the day. By the end of the evening, Julia and Phil were at Chuck's bedside, which to Chuck was ridiculous. Phil should be at his house, he was the host after all.

"Chuck, if I'd stayed there, Crystal would've had me pick apart that turkey carcass, Christ! You think I wanna spend my evening doing that?"

"More on that turkey right now than what's underneath this stupid gown." Chuck laughed, then choked, then caught his breath. "Julia, what about Ray?"

"He's got the boys. They missed you."

He nodded. "I missed them too. Too damned bad I can't see 'em till I get outta here."

"Soon Daddy, soon." Julia squeezed her father's hand as Phil watched the TV flicker. Football was over, but the screen oozed a sickly glow. Then Phil gazed at Chuck. He didn't look much better.

"So Chuck, when are we busting you outta this joint?"

"Oh maybe on Monday. Gonna keep me in over the weekend."

"Daddy, I thought Mom said Saturday."

"Nah, gonna bilk the insurance for all they can get." Chuck stared at the door. "With Y2K coming, they just wanna make all the money they can before everything takes a shit."

Phil's smile was small but Julia sighed. "Dad, nothing's gonna happen."

"You don't know that. I've already told your mother we're taking..." He lowered his voice. "We're taking all the money outta the savings account."

"Dad, that's nuts!"

"No it's not. If things turn out okay, I'll just put it back in."

Phil imagined Chuck Penn snoozing on a few thousand dollars, and Lee not sleeping at all.

Julia continued to argue, but it was mild in comparison to what Phil recalled from their early days. Not that she and Chuck had bickered constantly, only average quarrels between a young woman and an overprotective father. Chuck hadn't guarded any of his girls more than the other, and much of it was due to his job. If he hadn't been a cop, Phil imagined that Chuck would have let the girls run wild, or he wouldn't have been quite so wary.

Chuck shooed them away as a nurse adjusted the PICC line near his chest. Phil remembered this with both of his grandparents; PICC lines were used instead of IVs when various meds and fluids were necessary for more than a few days. Chuck seemed unbothered about the length of his stay, but hadn't wished his daughter to witness his actual care. As Phil led Julia to his car, she rambled about how feisty he acted. Phil drove them toward the Bay Bridge, but Julia asked to be taken to Helen's house. "You mind Phil?"

"Not quite ready for home yet?"

She needed to debrief, and he felt the urge too. They reached the small dwelling, and once inside, Julia called Ray, then Phil rang Crystal. Both Julia and Phil were told to take their time.

Julia stood at the sliding glass door as Phil hung up the phone. "So, Happy Thanksgiving Penn."

She turned with a smile. "Happy Thanksgiving Gideon. We've spent a few of them together."

He sat on the sofa. "We have. Here, well, not here," he chuckled. "But in Berkeley, at your place, down in San Jose." He paused. "I remember Grandpa's last Thanksgiving like it was yesterday."

It had been nearly ten years since Daniel Reese died, and Julia sighed. "Seems that way sometimes. I like spending Thanksgiving with you, no matter where we are."

Julia joined him, and Phil put his arms around her. "Grandpa'd be so pleased we're still carrying on the tradition. God, I wish he was here."

"Dad might be with him next year."

"I know. You okay with that?"

"Might be better for Dad. Phil..." She shook her head against his chest. "I feel like maybe Arthur and Claire _are_ gonna outlive him."

"They're waiting for it."

"Yeah like they'd actually come out here and spit on his grave. God, that's an awful thing to say."

"They'd do it Poppy."

She giggled. "They'd have to acknowledge my kids then. Maybe not."

Phil couldn't help his laughter. "God, what a decision. Spit on Chuck Penn's grave, but then have to face kids they've basically said _fuck you_ to for the last six years. Man, I dunno. I really don't know."

"Why are they like this?"

"Because they're the most..." Soulless assholes, but Phil bit his tongue. "They don't have a single ounce of grace in their lives."

Julia giggled. "Crystal has all their religion."

"She does," Phil smiled.

"Hey Phil, can I ask you something?"

He nodded.

"Do you believe in God?"

"I believe that what Crystal believes in has some ring of truth to it."

"That's a cop-out Gideon. What do you believe?"

"What does it matter?"

She sat up. "I just need to know."

"Why?"

"Because I wanna know."

He sighed. "Julia, I dunno. I used to, I mean, assume there was something. Then after Hilary, shit. I mean..."

"I think there might be."

"Yeah, why?"

"Because you didn't jump off the bridge. Because my dad interacts with my kids and Carl and Flynn. Because I even have kids. Shit Phil, I have two sons!"

He laughed. "Yeah, you sure as hell do."

They said nothing, staring toward the lights shining on the deck. "Beautiful night out there Julia."

"Phil, I wanna believe."

"Why?"

"Because," and she sniffed. "I wanna meet your dad."

Phil stroked her face, inching his fingers toward her temples. As he did so, she flinched, then relaxed. "Touch me there Phil."

"Where?"

"On my head."

As if her skin burned, Phil carefully eased his fingertips along the sides of her face. When he reached her hairline, he stopped.

"Phil, it's okay you know."

"Sometimes Julia, sometimes I think _why?_ I was just a baby, how in the world could that man have actually stood beside my father and shot him cold. He'd seen me, he'd held me, according to Grandma. Larry Jerrold held me in his arms, then pulled a trigger along my dad's face. I will never understand that."

"But you don't sound angry."

Phil nodded. For a time, he had been enraged. Only his wife, their children, and this woman had lessened the fury. "I had to let that go, that, oh Christ, that ugliness. Crystal complained, wouldn't have sex with me."

Julia giggled. "What, were you rough with her or something?"

"No, she said she wasn't gonna let a stranger into her body."

"Oh Phil!"

"Really set me straight. I mean, I felt like a different person right after we found out, like someone else had taken over. I've never felt that, well..." Finding Sunshine's corpse had leveled him, but not as deeply as learning his father had been murdered.

"You know Phil, we've never talked about this."

He nodded. "I wasn't sure if I ever could."

"You can tell me anything. God knows I've told you everything."

"Some things are better left alone."

"Try telling that to Arthur and Claire."

Phil set his hands along Julia's head, then ran his fingers through her blonde hair. She was still blonde, although he owned a few grays. "They wouldn't hear jack squat. I didn't want to either, not after she said all that stuff."

"I've never seen the video, his actual confession."

"You haven't missed much."

"Did he seem, I mean..."

"He was contrite. And he cried."

"Arthur would never cry."

"Or Claire." Phil had only met them once, but from all Julia ever said, and their heartless attitudes toward Julia's children, Phil knew they would never change.

"Phil, is this okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. Are you gonna be okay when Chuck goes?"

"Maybe. I mean, he's not gonna live forever. Jude might not remember him, but Abe will, and maybe that's enough. Abe, Carl, and Flynn will keep him alive, JJ and Ingie too."

Phil leaned down, kissing Julia's cheek. "We have some pretty amazing kids Penn."

"I know Gideon, seems kinda..."

"Weird," Phil laughed.

"Very weird, no _kinda_ about it." Julia sat up, then stroked his face. "You know, if I'd ever had your baby..."

Phil laughed. "Oh God, can you imagine? It'd be a mon-sta!"

She nodded. "I think Abe and JJ should get married. That's the closest we'll get to a kid genetically ours."

"She'd drive him nuts."

"No more than what I've done to you. Or what my grandparents have done to me."

"Or Larry Jerrold to my whole family."

"Yeah. Plenty of insanity to go around."

"No one's got a corner on the market." Phil stood, then stretched. "You ready to hit the hay?"

She laughed, then nodded. "Take me to San Francisco Gideon. I sleep around a lot in that town."

"You've got three men in one apartment waiting for you."

"And four women are hunting for your ass. Can't keep them stewing forever Phil."

He helped her off the sofa, then she retrieved her purse. Glancing over her shoulder, Julia noted the lights twinkling outside the sliding glass door. Then she leaned into Phil and walked away.

Christmas dinner was served at Julia's. Chuck sat on the sofa, surrounded by his grandsons. JJ, Ingie, and Marisa sat at the table, allowing an ill man time with four little boys who hung on every raspy word Chuck offered, tales of cops and robbers toned for small ears. Finally Ingie joined them, promising she wouldn't bite anyone. Chuck took her on his lap, and gently Ingie traced his oxygen tube until it reached the piece at the bottom of his throat. From there it split into two, but Ingie didn't investigate further. She folded her hands in her lap, ignoring the tank sitting on the floor, not far from Abe. As the eldest grandchild, Abe was the protector of Grandpa's tank, and Ingie knew better than to mess with it.

Marisa went to Crystal's chest as JJ joined the rest, and Phil watched his wife and daughter, then his other girls, all these kids drawn to a man who seemed not quite ready to die. Julia had mentioned Claire's phone call from that morning; not a word was spoken about Julia's sons, but plenty of queries were raised about Julia's father. Claire and Arthur were definitely hoping to outlive Chuck, and the pointed nature of Claire's conversation had chilled Phil, as if Larry Jerrold stood in that dressing room, shooting Phil's father over and over. Phil stood, kissed his wife, tickled Marisa's chin. She laughed, then went right back to gnawing on Crystal's nipple.

Phil motioned for Julia, and they met in the kitchen. He smiled at the mess; Ray and Julia created havoc no matter how large or small the meal. Granted it was Christmas, but Phil recalled far less chaos in Lee's tiny kitchen; how Julia managed to spread disorder still astounded him.

He found himself biting his tongue, and that troubled him; Julia had few issues with truth anymore. Her relationship with Ray had settled into about what Phil and Crystal shared. Julia and Ray hadn't married, but then neither had Liz and Adam, and while Diane and Wayne were legally wed, the three sisters were contented with their partners, nuptials or no. Children had calmed Julia, and had somehow balanced her still miserable grandparents. She had never finished her novel, but maybe it didn't matter anymore.

"This place's a disaster zone," Phil said. "It amazes me how you and Ray can cause such upheaval. It was Christmas dinner Penn, not The Last Supper."

"Same difference Gideon. Wanna Pepsi?"

He laughed. "Yeah sure. Gonna need the caffeine just to get this tornado sorted." He sipped from the can. "This's gonna take ages to clean."

"It's my house, my mess. But I don't think that's why you hauled my butt in here Phil. What's up?"

"Don't talk to them anymore."

"What?"

"Start the new millennium off with that resolution. Please, for me, the boys, for yourself. If Claire calls again, just tell her you can't talk to her right now."

"Phil..."

"Honey, they're not getting any better, age is making it worse. They don't acknowledge your children, they will never drop it." He took her hands. "Honey, send them the box. Get them out of your life."

She trembled. "I can't do that."

"Yes you can. They made it so you couldn't even keep your own baby." Phil usually never broached that, but felt compelled. "For everything Larry Jerrold took from me, he didn't steal that. But honey, Claire and Arthur are..."

"What?" Her tears were soft but audible.

"They're evil. Okay, so maybe there is a God, but I'll tell you sure as shit there's a Satan. And honey, they're it."

Laughter floated from the living room, and it felt like a slap on Phil's face. His daughters had been so long desired, his wife so coveted. Julia's family wasn't his flesh and blood, but they were as close as Daniel and Helen had been. The sting of his father's murder prickled, but then it eased, for it was the past, like losses Phil had suffered with Sunshine and the humiliation early in his career. Now at forty, Phil could poke at those disturbances, didn't feel such agony. Yet the woman in front of him suffered. "Julia, I don't want you to hurt anymore."

"Phil, it's okay, really."

"No, it's not. And the worse Chuck gets, the more bitchy they'll be. Not even bitchy. They're downright..." He sighed. "Evil exists in this world. We can call it whatever we want, Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, Rwanda, shit! It never ends, like we just get better and better at hurting each other. Claire and Arthur have had close to forty years to perfect their bullshit. And with our luck they're gonna keep right on going. But Chuck's got another year, maybe two. I talked to Lee today..."

"And?"

"And you know exactly what she told me 'cause she said she told all you girls the same damned thing last week. She said she thought you were gonna tell me. Tell me what I asked, because I could see it was the last thing she wanted to hash out again."

"Phil..."

"Don't fucking _Phil_ me." He swallowed, then picked up a bowl. Phil began loading the dishwasher, keeping his eyes from Julia. "She said he's got congestive heart failure. Which I knew, from Thanksgiving, but she also said between that and the emphysema, if he lives another eighteen months, she'd be surprised."

Julia tapped her foot.

"And I said whoa, okay, because this was the first I'd heard of a timetable." He stood straight, then gripped the counter. "He's got less than two fucking years, maybe not even that long. Now, if you wanna keep torturing yourself, fine. I love you, can't do a thing to change that, loving you, that is. But I absolutely hate seeing you get torn to pieces by two old fuckers who're hell-bent on making the last months you have with your dad full of shit."

Phil squeezed three more glasses into the top rack, then added soap, and started the machine. The dull hum eased his small anger. "I'm thinking about Chuck now. If you wanna keep beating yourself with the Claire and Arthur stick, that's your choice. But why him? What's he done to you, to your kids, to Carl and Flynn and my daughters? Nothing but fall in love with them despite what he probably wanted to do. He would've probably preferred not to have cared, not that much. He loves those kids more than Crystal's folks do, more than, well, more than Aurora loves her sons. Your dad Julia, believe it or not, loves those two little boys more than the woman who brought them into this world."

"Fuck you Phil."

"No fuck you Julia. It's the goddamn truth."

"What's the truth Daddy?"

Phil turned, finding JJ hand in hand with Abe. She looked tiny compared to him, but her face was stark.

"The truth is that I love your Aunt Julia so much that I poked her."

"Why'd you poke Poppy?" Abe asked.

"Because sometimes Ingie bites people even though she loves them."

That made perfect sense to the six-year-olds. "Daddy, how'd you know?"

Phil watched Julia pretend to wash dishes. "How'd I know what honey?"

"Ingie bit Flynn again," Abe sighed.

Phil rolled his eyes. "Sounds about like what I'd expect. Some women Abe, they never listen."

"Mama's got her in a time-out," JJ said, following her father out of the kitchen.

Phil took JJ's hand, Abe on his other side. Only then did the commotion reach his ears, and Julia's too, Phil assumed, but he didn't look to note her reaction.

" _Hey Penn, just wanted to tell you I love you. Listen, thanks for having us all, and, uh, sorry my daughter bit your nephew again. Talk to you later."_

" _Hey Crystal, it's me. Just wanted to see if Ingie had gotten her shots. Just kidding. Tell the girls Aunt Julia says hi." A brief pause. "You don't have to tell Phil anything."_

" _Hey Abe, Jude, it's Uncle Phil. Just wanted to wish you a happy New Year's Eve. Sorry that Abe's got a cold, we'll sure miss you guys tonight. So, yeah, give your folks a kiss from us, especially Poppy. Abe, be sure to give Poppy lots of kisses, nice wet sloppy ones. Bye guys!"_

" _Hey JJ, it's Aunt Julia. Is Ingie still in a biting mood? If she is, just tell her to take a chunk out of your dad, okay? Bye, bye girls and happy New Year!"_

" _Hey Julia, pick up, will ya? I'm over at Grandma's, had to run out for soda. JJ's got Abe's cold, go figure. They probably have mono, Crystal said it first. I think they just hold hands too much. Anyway, if you get this in the next five seconds, call me. Happy New Year Penn. I hope it's a good one for us all."_

" _Hey Phil, I, uh, yeah. I hope the rest of you don't get Abe's cold. Happy New Year."_

" _Hey Julia, it's Crystal. I just wanted to wish you and the guys, well, some sleep. And a happy New Year too. Phil's out getting some soda. Julia, he told me what he said to you. Honey, I have to say I'm in agreement. But whatever happens, I love you and I'm praying for you all. Happy New Year Poppy. We'll chat in a day or so."_

" _Hey Crystal, tell Phil when he gets home that I left him a message at Helen's. No big deal, but I, uh, yeah. Happy New Year to you too and thanks for, uh, thinking of us."_

" _Hey Penn, just got home. Pick up if you're feeling chatty."_

" _Hey Phil, it's Ray. Julia just got off the phone with Claire, and, uh, I know JJ's got Abe's crud, but if Crystal doesn't mind, is there any way you could come over? Julia's, uh, pretty freaked, you know? Okay, so, yeah. Chat with you soon."_

" _Hey Ray, it's Phil. Tell her I'll be right there."_

Phil sped through relatively light traffic for the last day of 1999. He wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring in the way of internet chaos, it couldn't be any worse than the state of Julia's kitchen on Christmas night. Or the state of Julia on that New Year's Eve, weeping in the middle of her king-sized bed. Phil said _hello_ to the boys, even giving Jude a cuddle. Abe was groggy with a sore throat and stuffy nose, and Phil made mental notes on how JJ's cold would progress. That night she was only achy, but as Abe went, so would Phil's daughter. Yet neither of those children was as debilitated as Abe's mother.

"Julia, oh baby!" Phil sat on her side of the bed, but didn't reach out. They hadn't even said _goodbye_ to each other when he left on Christmas night. But Julia seemed to have forgotten that, or had at least set it aside. She crawled his way and Phil took her in his arms.

"Baby, it's okay. It's gonna be okay."

"Phil, oh Jesus fucking Christ! It's over, all over."

"What happened?"

"I told them that unless they wanted to speak to me about my kids or my writing, I didn't wanna hear from them. Claire called, and the first thing she asked was how much longer was Dad gonna live."

"Jesus Christ."

"Yeah and it just went downhill from there. So as soon as she shut up, I said what I told you, that unless they wanted to drop this thing with Dad, that was it. She was silent, I mean, I could hear a fucking pin drop. Then she cleared her throat and told me that all these years they've tried to save me from him, oh Phil!"

She wanted to say more, but Phil wasn't sure it was good for her. "Julia, it's okay, it's all over now."

"No, Phil, you were right. They are fucking evil. Satan lives in Florida Phil, right near the Gulf of Mexico."

He kissed her face. "Honey, that's all over now."

"When she started talking again, Ray was standing there, he heard most of it, well, then Abe started hacking up a lung. But she knew Ray was listening, and she even told him a few things, God, she seems to hate anyone I love. Ray, Dad, you," Julia sighed, her voice lowering. "Then she said that my mother would be so disappointed in me for not giving them legitimate grandchildren." Julia took deep breaths. "She had the fucking balls to tell me my kids were bastards, that they didn't consider them any part of my life, of their lives, and that, get this, they were gonna change their will. That if I was going to be so, and I quote that fucking bitch, _intractable_ , that they were gonna leave everything to the goddamn SPCA. Phil, they don't even have any fucking pets!"

She laughed, then sobbed. "All they have is me, I've been their fucking lapdog for the last forty years. Even before I was born they probably thought they owned me, like they thought they owned her! Laura was theirs, I was theirs, but not my kids, not anyone or anything that doesn't do as they want. Phil, she hung up on me! Can you believe it? The fucking _gall!_ That bitch hung up on me and I didn't even get in the last fucking word!"

Phil wasn't shocked at all, but he acted slightly stunned. "Oh Julia, baby!"

"I know, can you imagine? So, you know what I did?"

"What?"

She took a breath. "I took the box down to the garbage. I threw the whole fucking thing in the trash."

He stared at her. "Are you shitting me?"

She shook her head. "I did it so fast, didn't wanna lose my nerve. Then I called them back, left a fucking message." She laughed. "I never leave them messages, she hates that thing! I don't know if they'll ever check it, but I told them I wasn't their grandchild, didn't care about the goddamn will, and that all of Laura's trinkets, all those pieces of bullshit, were down a San Francisco garbage can. That if they wanted I'd be happy to send them Dad's ashes, just so one day they'd have proof, not that it was actually gonna make them feel any better. Phil, goddamn your fucking ass, you were right. They're just, just..."

"Honey, it's okay. Julia, I'm so sorry."

"No, I mean, oh Phil! I did it, I threw all her treasures away."

He kissed her head. "You're the only treasure that ever mattered and you're right here in my arms, and Abe and Jude are just outside your door. The biggest treasures Laura ever produced are you and those boys."

Julia's eyes went wide, then she began to howl. Phil rocked her, seeing from the corner of his eyes Ray with Jude in his arms. Phil hoped Abe was sleeping, as some of this might have made sense, but Phil nodded to a three-year-old who was probably coming down with his brother's cold. "Poppy's okay Jude, she's just tired."

"Is Poppy sick Uncle Phil?"

Phil nodded. "Yeah but you know what? She's already starting to get over it. By tomorrow, she's gonna be feeling a little better, won't you Poppy?"

Julia said nothing, but Ray came forward, letting their son kiss his mother, what Phil agreed would most benefit a Poppy and her youngest.
Chapter 16

When Phil left for New York in early September 2001, it was for a short trip. His fourth album had spawned two top ten hits, and he was making the rounds; _Good Morning America_ on Thursday the sixth, _The David Letterman Show_ on Monday the tenth. He was flying home on the eleventh, a straight early morning shot from Newark to San Francisco. Crystal hadn't been pleased for his departure, but the album had done so well, she hadn't wished to deter him. He was heading into the studio in October, and this brief promotional tour would start the recording off with a bang.

Phil didn't like being away from his family and had left copious messages with everyone, even contacting Crystal's brothers. On Sunday evening, he called his wife, needing to hear her voice. All he had to do was play one song and chat with David Letterman tomorrow. Then on Tuesday morning he would head west, not planning another long sojourn until the girls could accompany. JJ and Ingie were in school, eight and six years old. Marisa spent three days a week at playgroup, but Phil hated being away from them, and spent over an hour talking to all those females. Then he called Julia, speaking with her for a few minutes. By the time he got off his phone it was ten Eastern Time. Phil plugged in the cell to charge overnight. Then he undressed, got into bed, and fell right to sleep.

At two a.m. he woke, needing to pee. Afterwards he wrote his wife an email, his laptop providing the only light in the room. As he had stumbled into the bathroom, family photos had flashed: his wife, his daughters, Julia, Liz, and Diane. All the kids over various holidays and birthdays, and as he lay back down, waiting for the screensaver to kick in, Phil considered how precious his existence was. Years ago it had seemed so bleak; at one point he had nearly taken his life. As he looked up, Crystal's face filled the laptop's screen, and Phil blinked away tears. He hated sleeping alone, the bed huge, cold, and lonely. In two days he would be in New Jersey, boarding a United Airlines jet, the whole of America zipping under his feet to return to the only woman who mattered. Phil would always love Julia, and he adored his daughters, but he ached over Crystal. All Phil wanted was to go home.

Monday was a day full of taxis and some forced smiles. Taping the Letterman slot was actually enjoyable; using Stan's old guitar, Phil performed his recent hit and one of his father's classics. Unbeknownst to Phil, David Letterman was a huge Stan Gideon fan, and with unusual joy Phil sang his dad's song. Now father and son could stand side by side, or tune by tune. As he left in yet another taxi, Phil grinned, more at ease than in ages.

The last two years had been rough, what with Chuck on his last legs. Yet he had surprised everyone, still coughing, still breathing, and in the hospital for much of it. He seemed unwilling to die, spiting Claire and Arthur, Phil said to Julia when she brought it up. She hadn't spoken to her grandparents, and Phil was so proud of her, as occasionally Claire left Julia a nasty message. Phil and Julia were never sure if Claire had checked her machine on New Year's Eve 1999, but it didn't matter anymore. Julia didn't care what they said, had started writing in 2000. When Phil left for New York, she told him she had a surprise for his return. She had been cagey for weeks, then giggly, much like Phil's daughters. JJ, Ingie, and Marisa were a tight trio and the boys had grown wary of those females, a pack that Abe, Carl, Flynn, and Jude couldn't crack. Abe and JJ were still close, but Ingie now gravitated more to Flynn, having finally ceased biting him. Jude and Marisa often played together, leaving Carl somewhat on the edge. Lately Phil had felt that way with Julia, but he had an idea why, and in another day he would learn the reason. If she had actually finished her novel, better for her to announce the news.

Phil ordered room service, then checked his flight; he would depart Newark at eight in the morning, reaching San Francisco around eleven a.m. Pacific Time. He would be turned around for a day, but it would be an easy adjustment; all he needed were moments alone with his wife, cuddles with his girls, and a few pertinent words from Julia. _I finished the novel Gideon_ was what he expected, easier for her to use his last name for something so colossal. She would employ _Phil_ later, when they spoke of how many years it had taken her, and maybe tears would follow after he read it. Phil had told her he wanted to read it, didn't give a shit if she cared or not. He was going to savor every single word.

But not until he had ravished Crystal. As he finished dinner, he picked up his phone. He wanted to hear her voice, wanted to listen to their children in the background, all clamoring for a minute of Daddy's time. Phil would give them plenty of his attention, but on Tuesday evening, JJ, Ingie, and Marisa would be tucked into bed early, allowing Phil and Crystal all the minutes necessary to reconnect. Maybe some moves on the sofa, in case any of the girls needed to see Daddy before they fell asleep. Phil would prefer to fool around on the couch, then once steady breaths were noted, the deep breathing could begin. Phil had never been apart this long from his family, from his wife. All he wanted was to love her.

"Hey honey, it's me. Just wanted to call, say hi, tell you I love you. Hope you and the girls are having fun. I just ate dinner, a room service burger, pretty crappy. Gonna take you and the girls out every night this week! Baby, tomorrow, I'll see you tomorrow Crystal. Give the girls lots of kisses!"

That she wasn't around didn't surprise him; Crystal spent time with her parents, with Julia, or she was at the hospital visiting Chuck. Phil smiled, then looked at the room. His bag was packed, the cell phone was charging. All he had to do was wait for morning.

Again at two he woke, but this time he had no desire to urinate. Phil was physically ill, and he ran to the bathroom, but couldn't puke. He sat on the toilet, then put his hand on his brow. His forehead felt clammy, his stomach was in knots; the damned burger he railed, then he stood from the seat. He stuck a finger down his throat, trying to bring it up. Nothing happened, and he went back to bed, looking at the screensaver. Crystal flashed in three straight pictures. Then Phil stared at his phone.

It was eleven there, too late to call her. His stomach rolled, then he felt dizzy. If this lasted, no way could he fly in six hours. For as much as Phil wanted to go home, there was no way in hell he could get on a plane feeling this awful.

He inhaled slowly, trying to calm his stomach. Photos of the girl passed; JJ's wide green eyes were like a field in summer, Ingie's soft blue irises so much like her mother's. Marisa's green was subdued, but her wide grin gnawed at Phil's heart. He inhaled, then felt hit by a bolt, but not in his gut. Three words flashed in his head, a message Phil couldn't ignore. Exhaling, he felt no qualms in his belly, but that missive still pounded: _Change your flight._ Phil shook his head, but it remained: _Change your flight._

Then Julia stared at him, her carefree face maybe twenty-two or twenty-three years old, before she had met Ray, before Claire and Arthur's damage had ruined a part of her, before Sunshine had done the same to Phil. _Change your flight_. Phil blinked, felt fine. He was fine, could fly home that day. Then a photo of Crystal appeared, and Phil gasped. She looked pensive; he wasn't sure when that picture had been taken. She seemed even younger than Julia, like a teenager. At nineteen, Crystal had known suffering, also a voice. Phil sat up, crawling to the edge of the bed. Then he stood, going back to that image of his wife. Maybe the photo was before she'd had the abortion, or maybe right afterwards. But it was from a time when her life had been shitty, then altered. _Change your flight._ Phil didn't want to; it was the very last thing he desired. Why spend another day in New York when everyone was waiting in California?

_Change your flight_. Phil stared at his phone on the bedside table. If he called now, maybe. Probably. How hard would it be to move it forward one day? He needed just one more twenty-four-hour period in this damned city. Phil grabbed his cell, unplugged it, then he returned to the laptop. Gripping, then shaking, the mouse, he stopped the pictures. Opening a new tab, he searched for United Airlines. Phil would spend another day on the East Coast and while Julia would bitch and his daughters wouldn't understand, all Phil would need to share with his wife was that voice. Crystal wouldn't say a thing.

" _Hey honey, Crystal? Wake up! Shit baby, please pick up! I changed my flight, I sent you an email, but honey, oh Christ Crystal, I'm not flying home today. Baby, there's been a huge disaster here in New York, but I am not flying today. I'm still here, at the hotel. Crystal, baby, planes have hit the World Trade Center towers, one hit the Pentagon, and mine, oh Jesus Crystal, mine went down in a field in Pennsylvania. But baby, I'm not on it, I'm still here, in New York. Probably gonna be here a while, they've grounded all flights. Crystal, baby, I love you. Honey, I'm okay and I love you. I'll explain everything, oh baby! I'll tell you everything when we talk."_

" _Phil, fucking Jesus Christ! I just saw the pictures, God, I'm so glad the boys are at school. Ray and I are sitting here, we can't fuckin' believe it! Phil, I read your email, about changing your flight, and thought what an asshole. But now, oh my God, I can't, I can't, oh shit. Here Ray, you talk to him."_

" _Phil, they're saying it's gonna come down, the first tower's not gonna stay upright. Shit Phil, we'll talk to you soon. Call us, okay? Bye."_

" _Phil? It's Lee. I just heard from Julia, I imagine you're talking to Crystal right now. Phil, I, uh, I'll tell Chuck, and we'll see you when you get back honey. I love you Phil. Just, oh, thank God you changed your flight!"_

" _Hey Julia, listen, I love you. It's okay honey, I'm here and I'll talk to you soon. Love you Penn!"_

" _Phil? Listen, I, uh, finished it. Thought I better tell you now in case something else fucked-up happens. I finished the book Gideon, so you better get your ass home as soon as they let you. Phil, oh Jesus Phil..." Small sobs. "Please just come home, okay? I love you. I'll, uh, see you soon. Bye."_

" _Hey Julia, oh baby, I knew it! Honey, that's so good! I have no idea when they'll be letting planes fly again, but as soon as I see you, expect a big fat hug! Listen, would you do something for me? When you see Crystal next, tell her how much I love her, tell I told you to tell her. She sounds, oh God, pretty screwed-up right now, not easy with the girls and everything, and I know Chuck's, I mean, I heard from Lee. Just tell Crystal that I love her, okay? Julia, I'm so proud of you. Don't let all that's happening take anything away from that. You did it baby, you did it!"_

It took Phil over a week to get home, and when he arrived at the San Francisco International Airport, only his wife waited for him. Their daughters were in school, but even if they had been free, Phil and Crystal needed this moment, in which no others were necessary. Phil jogged from the gangway, searching the terminal, but when he saw her, he began to sprint, catching his small wife in his arms. Many groups huddled as families were reunited, a great toll underlining these gatherings. Days of separation had been difficult but Phil had dodged a bullet, and only by God's grace did he and Crystal allow this togetherness. Phil should be dead alongside those who perished in Pennsylvania on Flight 93. Instead he again wrapped his wife close. Crystal kissed his face along his temples, Phil bent over her. As he pulled away, she touched the sides of his head, both in tears. "I love you," she warbled.

Phil nodded, wiping her face, then his. "You're so beautiful."

"So are you."

He smiled, then kissed her. They were surrounded but Phil would have done the same no matter who was watching.

They stood arm in arm waiting for his luggage, walking hand in hand reaching the BART terminal. Crystal hadn't felt up to driving, and Phil didn't mind how they got home. He wasn't alone, she was with him. On the train they couldn't talk openly, but better was the way he caressed her face, the manner in which she wouldn't let him go. He wasn't sure what she had told their daughters, what she might have said to Julia. All that mattered was that Phil had arrived in the Bay Area. As soon as they reached Berkeley, the couple could make love.

That occurred practically as they stepped in the house; shades were drawn, the quiet a balm. Phil and Crystal stripped in the living room, groping nakedly as they reached their bedroom. She hadn't made the bed, and they fell into it together, then Phil was inside her. Then they wept, coming over and over, Phil in her arms, Crystal atop him. Only after their third time did they finally speak any words more than names and moans.

"I never want you to go away alone again."

"I never wanna leave you and the girls behind."

Crystal sat up, then kissed his nose. "What'd the voice sound like?"

"Certain, very sure. Was it like that for you?"

She nodded, then snuggled against him. "Phil, I'm so glad you listened."

"Me too baby. Me too."

While JJ and Abe grasped the destruction of the Towers, none of the kids comprehended what still stunned the adults. Grandparents accepted that Phil had been graced by providence. Crystal and Liz thought that Phil had heard a divine presence. The rest marveled that Phil had fallen ill on the eve of September eleventh. Phil didn't say much other than he was a very lucky man.

Then he smiled, toting Marisa, with Crystal stuck at his side. That night at the Gideon residence, all gave thanks in whatever manner they felt able, and by the end of the evening, Phil was talked out and ready to fall asleep next to his wife in their bed, under their roof, in Berkeley. At times over the last several days, Phil wasn't sure he would ever see his home, these people, this city. It felt like a lasting treasure, his relatives the same.

All year Chuck had been in the thoughts of most. He still was, even in his absence. After their marathon in bed, Phil and Crystal had collected Marisa from playgroup, then gone to see Julia's father. Chuck had cried, Phil had too, and Phil would be there again tomorrow. Now that he was back on the West Coast, Phil had plans, some involving the daily routine of visiting Chuck. Some plans were being shuffled; the album he was ready to record would be postponed. Phil's life had altered irrevocably, and nothing would ever be the same.

He wanted to focus on Chuck, on Crystal, and their girls. He wanted to have another child, which Crystal had also considered. Instead of making music, Phil was going to see about reversing his vasectomy.

He wanted to get Crystal pregnant, and he needed to read Julia's book. Those two things would go hand in hand, Phil joked with his wife; he could read the manuscript while recovering. Then there was what he only spoke of with Crystal. He might or might not tell Julia; if she asked, he would talk. Eventually they would discuss what he thought about her novel, and of the reversal. That wouldn't remain a secret, and maybe over time Phil's assessment of why he had changed that flight would also fall under debate. But for now, he only wished to broach that revelation with the one who had experienced a similar notion. After all their guests were gone and the girls were in bed, Phil and Crystal sat in the living room. Phil didn't want to close his eyes, wanted to imprint this place deep into his psyche. He had never felt so lost, then found, except for that day on the bridge. He laughed. "It's like I was ready to jump all over again."

"I thought about that. I've never prayed so much as when I got your message. I mean, I knew the flight number, I'll always know it. As soon as I got your message, it was like _oh my God_. You were so close, just like when you were gripping the railing."

He kissed her, then set his hands along her belly. "Baby, it was real, I swear to God it was real."

"I know Phil, I know."

Able to close his eyes, Phil relaxed as she settled against him. "Crystal, I, uh, where do I go from here?"

"Wherever he leads you Phil."

"Is it always gonna be so spelled out?"

She giggled. "No. But that's okay. Mystery's a good thing."

He nodded. "Baby, I love you. It feels like..."

"What?"

"Like I'll always have you now. I mean, I knew I'd always be with you, here, on Earth." He chuckled. "Two years ago Julia told me she wanted to believe in God because she wanted to meet my dad." Phil inhaled. "I thought that was sweet, you know, she can be so..."

"Much like Chuck."

"Yeah, crusty but loveable." Phil laughed, keeping his eyes closed. "Abe and Jude have softened both of them, but don't tell her I said that."

"It's true. I really wish she could've had her baby."

"Me too." Phil opened his eyes. "But she's got the boys, Ray, us."

"She believes Phil. She told me so while you were still in New York."

"Yeah?"

"She said there had to be a God because you weren't dead."

Crystal faltered with that last word. Phil gripped her, then kissed the back of her head. "Baby, life's a funny thing."

"Yeah, it is. Phil?"

"What?"

"If it works, the reversal..."

"Yeah?"

"How many do you want?"

Her tone was almost giddy, which made Phil smile. "I don't know Crystal. How many do you want?"

"We have the play room upstairs, could bunch the girls together up there, that'd open up lots of room down here."

Each of the girls had their own space, and Phil laughed. "Crystal, how many kids do you wanna have?"

"I'm only thirty-seven."

"Thirty-eight in February."

"Don't get nit-picky Phil."

"I want as many as..."

"As many as I want?" she smiled.

He reached for her temples, stroking her hairline, down to her cheeks. "As many as God wants to give us. Maybe none, maybe it won't work."

"Maybe I'll be nursing babies when I'm fifty."

"Maybe," he laughed as she turned to face him. Phil was hard and Crystal kissed his mouth. Maybe another two, five, or ten, Phil considered as she moved over him, their clothes the only hindrance.

In late September Marisa Gideon turned four. In early October Phil spent a morning under the knife. That afternoon he went home, walking slowly, sitting on the sofa with a printed copy of Julia's manuscript. He would read her novel as his genitals recovered; Julia had worn a sly grin when he told her of why he wanted to wait for her book.

"Are you shitting me?" she had said at Helen's house. "You're really gonna try to get it reversed?"

This had occurred before Marisa's party, but after Phil and Julia had spoken about their changes of heart. Julia was willing to gab all about finding God, but Phil was more circumspect, also how he was when telling her that he and Crystal were going to try for another baby.

He consider those conversations as he read, trying to stay immobile. Ice packs eased the swelling, but the idea of sex made Phil wince. Yet, that desire would return, just as his mind had been changed. The idea of someone in complete control now seemed plausible, and it wasn't even the memory of that voice in his head. Julia's novel was spellbinding. It had taken her more than the twenty years Phil had known her, but Julia Penn had crafted a story worthy of her heritage.

Phil read as Crystal changed ice packs and cared for the children. She didn't complain, for this was temporary. After a week, Phil had finished Julia's book and most of his convalescence. He now imagined sex with Crystal, but it was still another ten days before that could occur. They wouldn't even think about making a baby until next spring, perhaps another year. Phil wouldn't ponder that in detail, not with all that Julia had written spinning in his mind.

"You need anything?" Crystal asked, sitting beside him on the sofa.

He kissed her, then smiled. "She did it honey. She really did it."

"I knew she had it in her, just needed to get rid of the ghosts."

He nodded, then caressed his wife's face. "Maybe just in time too."

Crystal's eyes darted away. "I talked to Lee today."

"And?"

"Chuck's not going home this time."

"Oh Jesus!"

Crystal looked up, tears falling. "Honey, maybe it was your flight, maybe he feels like he can leave, that we're all gonna be okay."

Phil set his hand to where their daughters had rested. Then he moved to another place each of those girls had coveted; Crystal's breasts were nondescript now, but maybe in another year, and Phil smiled. "Maybe honey, maybe you're right."

"Phil, even if we don't get pregnant, I can't wait to try."

She giggled, would have normally reached for his groin. Instead she set her fingers along his temples. "Everything's for some reason Phil, even the assholes."

"Even the assholes," he whispered, hearing a bevy of footsteps descending the stairs. The girls shushed each other, unsure of just why Daddy had been laid low. Soon they would be quiet because their mama was sleeping. Phil knew few things for certain, but he held the proof of Julia's handiwork, had to swallow the coming death of an ill man. And Phil chuckled, as his daughters surround the sofa, another baby, at least one. Maybe even a boy, Phil allowed, as three little girls grew giggly. Maybe now Phil could consider a son.

" _Hey Penn, we gotta talk. Call me, I'm sort of up and around these days. Loved the book by the way."_

" _Hey Gideon, I'll ask Crystal just how up you are, ha ha. Yeah, gotta talk to you about, uh, novels. And reversals." A small laugh. "Not that I'm getting my tubes untied, thank you very much. Only about certain considerations a rock and roller I know used to have about the man upstairs. And no, I don't mean my obnoxious overhead neighbors. Call me back Gideon, if you dare."_

" _Hey Penn, I'll be at Grandma's this afternoon. If you're feeling brave, stop by."_

" _Hey Crystal, it's Julia. Is Phil there? I take it either he's not there and you're doing laundry alone, or he is there and the two of you are pretending to do laundry together. Talk to you later!"_

"Knock knock," Julia said.

"Come on in Poppy."

Phil sat on the sofa, no guitar near. "Where's the instrument Gideon? What, playing hooky?"

"Just needed some down time. How are you?"

She sat beside him, pointing at his fly. "Down time huh? How long is it out of commission?"

He laughed. "Another week, but God, it's starting to get difficult."

"I'm just so glad you didn't say _hard_."

"I knew you would," he smiled.

Julia giggled, looking around the room. "So, you'll nail her in what, a week? When's the baby due?"

"Oh, we're not counting that far ahead." He squeezed her hand. "If we get lucky before JJ's ten, I'll be pleased."

Julia stared at him. "Shit Phil, that's ages away."

"Some things take a long time Penn, good things at least."

"Oh yeah, uh-huh." Julia nodded, then cleared her throat. "So Phil, what'd you think of the book?"

He embraced her, needing to feel her as he spoke. "Julia Rose Penn, it's one of the most gorgeous, indicative novels I have ever read."

"Indicative? Of what?"

"Of you."

"How many books have you read Phil?"

"Well, including yours, maybe five."

"Uh-huh. I knew I should've let Crystal read it first."

"Julia, do you know who wrote three of those novels?"

"Who Phil?"

"Your mother."

She trembled, why he had wanted to hold her. "Julia, it's beautiful, witty, funny. It's real Penn, you really did it."

"It's for, it's for my dad."

"I know. Are you gonna tell him?"

"I dunno. Maybe if I wait long enough..."

Phil let her pull away. Then he stroked her cheek. "He'll never read it but I think you should tell him. Does he know about it?"

Julia glared at him. "Everyone knows about it Phil."

"No, I mean, does he know it's done?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you nearly died Phil, shit!"

"That was last month Penn."

"It's every day to me."

Eternity filled the room the way Phil had watched his loved ones on the laptop. He could see Sunshine standing in the kitchen, slowly washing dishes. He could see Julia doing the same, then his grandmother. Now it was back to just Phil and Julia, and he gripped her. "Honey, I'm here. I'm not purposely going anywhere."

"Shit happens Phil. It happened to over three thousand people last month, it could happen to one of us today."

"All the more reason to tell him."

"Phil, I prayed for you."

"I, yeah. Crystal told me."

"When I read that you were coming home a day late, I was so pissed because I wanted to tell you about the book. Then I got your message, then I turned on the TV. Phil, it was like my life flashing, that could've been you. I could've been watching your life end. Plenty of others, oh Phil, I can't, I can't tell you..."

"It's okay honey, I'm right here."

"Phil, you and Crystal gotta have a lot of kids!"

"We're gonna try."

"No, I'm serious. People die all the time and..."

"We're not repopulating for everyone else."

"No, just for what didn't happen. We're both only children. My sisters are only having one kid each, and Ray's siblings don't have any. Crystal's brothers are pretty apathetic in that department and..."

"Julia, what?"

"Our parents got cut down short. Well, not Dad, but Laura, Stan, and Jo-Jo. I know all that overpopulation shit, but Phil, I mean it. You and Crystal get knocked up again, have two, five, ten even."

Phil laughed. "We'll do our best. God, I was thinking the same thing before I had it done."

She looked at him. "No way!"

"Yeah, Crystal and I were lying on the couch and..."

"Stop right there Gideon. I don't wanna know."

He laughed. "No, it's just that now, maybe a boy. Who knows Julia, who knows?"

"You want a son Phil?"

He swallowed. "On my honor, I want whatever God'll give me."

She turned to him. "Really Phil?"

He nodded. "Really. And I know before it gets better, it's gonna get worse."

She snuggled against him. "I don't think he's gonna see 2002."

"Maybe not Poppy. Maybe not."

"Phil, if he dies and you guys have a son, are you gonna name him Chuck?"

"I dunno. You want me to?"

"Maybe. I never thought about it."

"Until now."

"You were outta commission until now Phil."

"I may still be."

"I bet not."

"Why Penn?"

She took a breath, but didn't move from him. "Because you came back. Because in all probability you should be buried or cremated, but you're here, and I can pinch you if I want."

"Just don't pinch my dick, okay?"

She giggled. "Okay." She squeezed his arm. "I can do that Phil, but in a normal world, you should be deader than shit."

"What's normal Penn? We're weird, remember?"

"God, no joke." She sat up, then stared at him. "Phil, I'm serious. What're the odds of you just blithely changing your mind six hours before that flight took off, huh? That sort of shit just doesn't happen."

"But it did."

"I know. That's why I think if you have a son, you should name him..."

"Charles to be called Chuck?"

Her eyes looked bright to Phil, the deepest blue he had ever seen. Not even Crystal's eyes were this flushed with color. "Name him Daniel. Daniel Stan Gideon."

"That's nice Julia. I like that."

"Then, if you have another boy, name him Chuck."

Phil laughed. "Another huh?"

"Then you can name the rest whatever the hell you and Crystal want. But Daniel first, then Chuck. Grandpa died before Dad did anyways."

She started to sniffle after she said that, turning into a full-blown wail as Phil cradled her. Daniel had gone first, but Chuck wasn't far behind.

On Thanksgiving, families shuttled between Chuck's hospital room and Phil's house. On the following Monday, Julia received a registered letter from a Tampa Bay law firm noting she had been removed as the executrix of her grandparents' estate. She threw a small party to celebrate, the children told that it was a post-turkey gala. They were disappointed not to receive any gifts, but adults reminded that the real deal was only a few weeks away.

Lee said little about where she would be on Christmas, perhaps in San Jose with Liz or Diane, maybe in San Francisco with Julia. Chuck made a point of refusing her presence with him; no way in hell did he want her missing at least some of the grandkids' big morning.

Ten days before Christmas Phil went to his doctor, to have his sperm count checked. He was at Helen's working when Crystal called with the results. "Well, there's something in there."

"You're kidding!"

"I'm not," she laughed. "They wanna do another test to double-check. Phil, I, I..."

"Don't move. I'm coming right home."

"I'm doing laundry Phil."

"All the better. Maybe we'll make a baby in there."

"I think we made Marisa in here," Crystal giggled.

"At least Marisa. Probably Ingie too."

By the time Phil gave another sperm sample, he and Crystal had enjoyed several intimate moments in the laundry room. Julia had caught them once, hearing a strange knock against the washer. Assuming they had stepped out, leaving an unbalanced load, she had opened the door, closing it right away. Several messages were left between the households, a few on Phil's cell phone; Julia asked if they needed to add any fabric softener to their machine.

New Year's Eve was on Monday, and Julia and Ray were hosting a sleepover. All seven kids were staying in the city that night, and a tent had been erected in the middle of the living room. Liz dropped off Carl and Flynn, then would be on her way to the hospital. Chuck's condition had worsened, and Crystal and Phil had offered to sleep at Julia's, in case she and Ray needed to leave.

Lee and Diane were already with Chuck, and as Liz headed to the foyer, Julia stopped her. "Listen, when you get there, even if he's not, you know, at death's door, call me. Maybe I'll come over for a while."

"He didn't want you to," Liz said. "But yeah sure. Not like he can do much about it now."

They smiled even if staring at their father's impending demise. For two years Chuck had been threatening, but now he was facing the end.

"Listen, why don't you just go over there?" Ray joined them, grasping Julia's hand. "You'll regret it if you don't."

Crystal and Phil approached. "Ray's right, Penn. It could be any day."

Julia stared at the children, most of them huddled on the sofa. Ingie and Flynn could be heard fighting in the tent. "Yeah, maybe."

She caught Abe's gaze, and he came running. "Poppy, are you going with Aunt Liz?"

Julia didn't need to kneel, as Abe nearly reached her chest. "I was going to, yeah honey."

He grabbed her, and she hugged him tightly. Julia could still pick up JJ, but this boy had always been a moose. She ruffled his hair, then kissed his head. "I'll tell Grandpa you sent me. He can't argue with that."

"Phil, you go too. Ray and I'll be fine here."

"Crystal, no, it's okay."

"Julia, you hush. Phil, be gone with you. Just stay in touch."

Phil nodded as Abe let go. "Yeah Uncle Phil, you take care of Poppy."

"Been my job Abe since I was twenty years old."

"Hey," Julia barked.

"He's right," Liz smiled.

Julia didn't like the ominous sensation, but as Phil put on his jacket, then grabbed her hand, it dissipated. Her son's extra squeeze assisted, then all the kids offered hugs. Julia left fortified for what she imagined could be her father's last night.

Phil drove Liz's car; she wanted to spend most of the evening at the hospital. Her boyfriend Adam was with his family, his grandfather unwell. Chuck was seventy-one years old, but Liz's longtime partner still had his parents, and three of his four grandparents. Julia had two of her grandparents, and she frowned.

"What Penn?"

"What what Gideon?" She sat in the back, hadn't been aware Phil could see her.

"You're looking grumpy Julia."

"Just thinking how Adam's grandparents are still alive. You hear anything from him?" she asked Liz.

"Just that they're spending tonight at O'Connor Hospital. Parties for everyone."

Julia nodded. Diane's husband Wayne was with Chuck, and they had been at the hospital for most of the day. All lived close as the crow flew, but distances could be measured in bridges traversed, hours spent in traffic. Yet, Julia wouldn't complain. Phil was driving, Chuck wasn't dead, yet. Phil wasn't dead at all, and she giggled. "So Phil..."

"Yeah?"

"How's your washer?"

Liz laughed.

"Fine Penn. Next time you come over, I'll show you."

"No thanks. I've got a partner."

She stared at the bay, feeling trapped what with the city-bound traffic over her head. Then they cleared the span, and she breathed with ease, something about going home. This side of the water was Julia's home.

Or maybe it was that Phil lived here. Phil and her parents both, but soon only her mother, and Julia wiped her face.

"You okay Poppy?"

"Fine Phil, just fine."

He parked, and they stood outside a building so familiar to Julia, like another home. Phil walked between the sisters and Julia felt better for his presence. She would have to thank Crystal tomorrow, or maybe later that night, depending on Chuck. Julia was glad Ray was with the kids; Daddy would break the news while Poppy wept on Uncle Phil's shoulder. Reaching the elevator, Julia nodded to herself. This was the best way.

The elevator ride felt so final, moving while standing still. The lurch announced their arrival and Julia gripped Phil's hand. Then she sighed. "Well, here we go."

Liz left first, and Julia and Phil followed. Diane stood outside Chuck's room, holding herself, and Liz ran, but Julia didn't. They had missed it, but no one had called to tell them.

Julia stopped twenty feet from where she watched Liz console their youngest sister. "Phil, oh my God."

He blocked her view, pulling her close. "Oh baby, I'm so sorry!"

"No, no!" Her voice was strangled, then she inhaled, then sobbed. "Oh fucking shit Phil!"

Perhaps it had just happened, but Phil's phone hadn't rung. Julia hated hers, never used it, even with her father so ill. She wasn't sure about Liz's cell phone; maybe Lee or Diane thought Liz was driving, and it was better not to disturb her.

So much technology, yet, sometimes the old fashioned ways ruled. Then Julia looked at Phil. "He told you, God told you to change your flight. You're here Phil, that's a miracle."

"Yeah Julia, it sure as hell is."

They kissed full on the mouth, as if midnight was turning. Then he set pecks along her temples. Then they headed for Chuck's room.

Diane met them five feet from the door. She was in tears, actually looked as if she had been slapped. Red puffy eyes hammered into Julia, along with the way Diane shook. Julia reached for her. "It's okay, he's not suffering anymore." She looked around. "Where's Wayne?"

"He's in with Mom and Dad. He's not dead yet," Liz murmured.

"He's not? Well, what then? He have a heart attack?"

"Something like that," Diane warbled.

"What? What is it?"

"Julia, oh God, honey, Daddy's, Daddy's..."

" _What?_ " Julia looked around, felt bad for yelling. "Diane, just tell me. What's wrong with Dad?"

"Phil, hold her."

"Oh for God's sake Liz, just tell me."

"Phil, please?"

He encircled Julia's waist. It nearly tickled and she fought a grin. "Okay, Phil's got me. Now what is it?"

Diane's quivering fingers were cold against Julia's skin and her gray eyes seemed far away. Julia glanced at Liz, who looked just as removed, as if Julia only had Phil to keep her steady. "Julia, honey, Daddy's making a confession, to the police."

Julia laughed. "Daddy _was_ the police. Diane, what?"

"Tonight, to me, Mom, and Wayne, Dad said that he, he, he..."

" _He what_ Diane?"

That was Phil, for Julia couldn't speak. She couldn't begin to form the words in her brain, but they had been waiting since she could remember. Claire and Arthur had implanted them from the time Julia was old enough to grasp what murder meant.

"He said he had Laura killed, that he arranged her accident. He kept saying it, then he got on the phone, Wayne tried to stop him, but Dad called 911, oh my God, Julia, Julia? _Julia!_ "

She felt dizzy, vomiting on her shoes. Julia swayed in Phil's arms, then her world went black.
Chapter 17

"Arthur, no, I mean, no, no, Claire no!"

"Julia, honey, it's okay. Julia? Wake up Penn, come on."

"What, uh, what, where? Phil?"

"Julia, it's okay, it's okay."

"Where am I?"

"My house Poppy."

Julia gasped. "Oh fucking Christ! Oh shit, no! It's, oh my God, it's not a dream, it's fucking real, oh Jesus Christ!"

Julia struggled, but Phil sat beside her, having heard her in the middle of a nightmare. "Julia, oh Poppy, it's okay, it's gonna be okay."

"What happened Phil, I mean, how'd I get here?"

She lay on JJ's bed, and Phil sighed. "They gave you a tranquilizer before we left the hospital."

"Oh Christ! They had to fucking knock me out?"

"Well, not quite knock you out. You were conscious when we left, but everybody felt it would be better if you slept here."

"Didn't wanna freak out the kids I assume."

"Something like that."

"Where's Crystal?"

"At your place."

"And Liz, Diane, Mom?"

"Wayne was gonna take them back to San Jose."

"Mom too?"

"Lee too."

Julia sobbed, then sat up, gazing at the ceiling where fluorescent stars and crescents glowed. Then she stared at the wall beside her; a large collage of all the kids was interspersed with cut-outs from various Disney movies. Julia fingered a photo of JJ and Abe, then she pulled her knees to her chest. "How in the fuck are we gonna tell them?"

"It's not gonna be anytime soon."

She glared at Phil. "He's a, a... He's dying, and they need to know the truth."

"Honey, Abe doesn't even understand that you're not his real mother. God Julia, think about it."

She didn't want to think about anything. Instead she stared at her son and Phil's daughter. "I always wanted them to get married."

Phil didn't say a word.

"I mean the kids." She laughed. "Oh God, who am I kidding? He's a murderer Phil, my father is exactly what Arthur and Claire said he was all these years."

The room was silent. Julia sniffled, wishing she could take back her words, not because they were untrue, but this was JJ's room and it wasn't right to spread such malicious... Not lies, no it wasn't a lie anymore, but JJ was only eight, too young to even assimilate by allusion such evil. Then Julia laughed. She had been that young when her grandparents had started their litany.

"Oh my God, that's the worst Phil." She chuckled, stretching over the twin mattress. "Not that my dad killed, her, I mean, that's pretty goddamned bad, but it's what, coming on forty years ago." She paused, then stared at the ceiling again. "She died forty years ago Phil. I never knew her because she died." Julia looked at Phil. "But it wasn't an accident."

He nodded.

"Nope, Dad killed her, whatdya know?" She laughed. "They did, old Arthur and Claire, stupid motherfuckers."

"By luck Julia. They didn't really know."

"Luck?"

"They chose one side of the argument. Turns out it was correct, but they had no idea at the time."

"Oh well, yeah, you're right. Yup, just luck that they happened to assume my dad was a cold-blooded murderer, yeah Phil, just a fucking lucky guess."

She wished he would slap her. Instead Phil stroked her temples. "I'm sorry Poppy. I am so, so sorry."

"Me too," she sighed. "Happy fucking new year to me."

She didn't want to stay at Phil's, as she couldn't go back to sleep. Phil drove them, in Liz's car, over the Bay Bridge, which was quiet in the early hours of 2002. Reaching Julia's apartment, Phil parked on the street, walking hand in hand with a shaky but alert woman. When they reached her door, she dropped her keys. Phil let them inside, and over the sound of snoring children, she began to tremble. Phil held her close, leading her into the kitchen.

It was clean, probably Crystal's doing, Phil imagined. Maybe she had roped all the kids into helping, JJ and Ingie already learning how to load and run a dishwasher. But Phil didn't want his daughters to know about Grandpa Chuck for a long time. Phil noted the louder sounds of boys, then he felt a sharp pain. Sometimes men did awful things, not very often were women the aggressors. Usually they were the victims: Jo-Jo and Sunshine and... Laura, which made Phil swallow hard as Julia poured herself some water. Julia and Helen too, but men also ended up in agony, Stan and Daniel and Phil himself. And Larry Jerrold, but that name turned Phil's stomach. Phil knew exactly why Chuck had confessed, but knowing why didn't ease Phil's mind, and probably wouldn't do a thing to appease Julia.

Phil had never considered Claire and Arthur's diatribes anything but tormented revenge. Julia had suffered irrevocably for her grandparents' inability to set aside their anger and pain, yet, they had been correct. Phil wished for a Pepsi, craving that metallic sweetness, the caffeine, the bubbles. "Penn, you got any pop?"

She stared at him, her broken face allowing the crack of a smile. "Gideon, it's fucking four o'clock in the morning."

"I know. I'll get to the dentist later today." He opened the fridge, finding containers of dips, a plate of sliced cheeses and deli meat under plastic wrap. In the back, hidden behind a bag of baby carrots and broccoli, sat four cans out of a six-pack. Julia kept Pepsis for Phil, even when he said he was off the stuff, but other than the enamel on his teeth to suffer, it was a harmless habit. Phil reached for one, felt the cold hit his hand not like that of a gun, the way Sunshine had gone out. Chuck had hired someone to kill his wife. A cop knew better than to get directly involved.

Phil set the can on the counter, staring at it. How many Pepsis had he consumed in his lifetime, and on how many days had Chuck considered his actions? Had he felt them when his two and a half year old cried for her mother? What about when, only months later, Lee gave birth to their daughter? Had Chuck sensed any latent remorse when Diane was born or when Julia arrived back in Oakland after a summer spent with those braying for Chuck's scalp? They wanted him strung from a tree, wanted him dead. Instead for the last several years he had lingered with bad lungs and a weak heart while Julia was picked apart. Phil stared at her as she gazed into the room. What did she see?

He thought of her baby made with Ray, one that Ray still knew nothing about. She had never told him about the abortion, endured because Claire and Arthur had been right. They had been, after all this time. Forty years ago Laura Riley was killed along a Chicago street, but not by accident. It had been premeditated, and at that moment Phil didn't care about Chuck's reasons. As Julia was taken to a cubicle and given a tranquilizer, Wayne had told Phil that Chuck had feared losing his daughter. Laura knew all about Lee and the coming baby, and was going to divorce Chuck and take Julia far away. If Laura would have followed through was moot; at the time, thirty-two-year-old Chuck Penn faced losing one daughter while nearly the father of another. Phil gazed back at the soda, condensation forming. Chuck made his decision, took his chances, and for forty years, no one suspected a thing.

Phil didn't consider Arthur and Claire; as he'd told Julia, they had merely been lucky. Phil had been blessed on September eleventh. Was it the same sort of providence, had Arthur and Claire heard a voice, or only the constant thump of their furious hearts? Phil knew why he hadn't flown on a day synonymous with death and malice, but the day Laura died wasn't any different than the one to follow. For four decades, that was all anyone with a reasonable mind accepted. The reason Laura was killed wasn't any different than the reason for those planes crashing into the Twin Towers, the Pentagon, a field in Pennsylvania. Only evil, sometimes a little bigger and more problematic than at other moments.

But Phil didn't think of Chuck as a bad man. He was a sick man, physically. He had been desperate in 1962, what with Lee pregnant and Laura threatening to flee with Julia. If Phil took Wayne's words for fact, what Chuck said now, on his deathbed, then Phil winced. Larry Jerrold had made a similar statement in his last moments, causing great disturbance within Phil. Larry and Chuck had wanted to ease their consciences, but what about the pain they stirred in others? The hijackers assumed they were doing the work of their God, and now over three thousand were dead, New York a shambles. All for what, Phil wondered, looking at Julia's vacant face. What did it all mean?

"What Phil? You look a million miles away."

"Julia, I, I..." He embraced her. "I love you. My dad, your mom, what the fuck?"

She smiled, grazing her fingers along his temples. "No shit Gideon. What the fuck indeed."

"Hey, what're you guys doing here?"

Phil turned as Ray entered the room. "Oh honey, oh Ray!" Julia scooted around Phil, falling into her boyfriend's arms.

"She, uh, woke up, wanted to come home." Phil watched as she seemed to dissolve against the man she had loved and battled, similar to the relationship she shared with her father.

Ray nodded at Phil as Julia wept in hushed waves. Phil stood behind her, kissing the back of her head.

"Crystal's in the guest room," Ray murmured.

"Thanks. I'll see you guys in a few hours."

Julia nodded, then burrowed into Ray's chest.

Phil tousled her hair, then looked at the counter. The Pepsi waited, but Phil didn't care if he ever drank another. He wandered through the living room, Marisa and Jude on the sofa, the rest in the tent. Phil took the second door on the right, hearing only his wife's breathing. He stripped to his boxers, then slipped under the covers. By the time Ray led Julia to their room, Phil was ready to climax as Crystal gripped his back.

For three days the tent remained in Julia's living room. The kids didn't know what had occurred, but the news was out to others. Ray had to change their home phone number as Claire had called repeatedly, but Julia couldn't speak to her grandparents, saying that she never wanted to talk to them again. Once the number had been altered, Arthur started calling Phil's house. It did the old man little good, for Phil, Crystal, and their girls were bunking in San Francisco. Twice Phil had gone to see Chuck, but both times he was unconscious. Phil hadn't been certain what he might say to Julia's father, had been relieved words weren't necessary. Yet he spoke to Lee daily; Julia had needed her mother's presence, her sisters too. Tom and Edie visited as well, as if to squeeze out the one Julia couldn't face. She wasn't sure she would ever visit her dad again.

She was hoping Chuck would just die, had said as much to Ray and Phil, and implied it to the rest. Abe and Jude thought it was odd that Poppy wasn't at the hospital, and Ray explained that sometimes it was hard to watch someone die. Abe retorted that they had been with Grandma Helen, not that Abe recalled that day, but the stories were known. Yet Julia couldn't address her son's concerns.

"Come on kids, let's get our coats and go for a walk." Crystal ushered the children from the apartment, Wayne and Diane alongside. As they left, Phil kissed his wife, then hugged Diane. Julia's youngest sister responded with a grip that Phil felt all through him. While the sisters had always been close, one small detail had always remained. Now Laura Riley seemed as cumbersome as crumbled buildings, no one sure what to do with her.

They couldn't just ignore this, Phil allowed, and had found agreement with his wife and Ray. There would be no trial or jail time, one lone police officer posted outside Chuck's hospital room. Chuck would die with his secret revealed, maybe offering himself small peace. Phil was slightly pissed at him; Chuck had known the damage caused by Larry Jerrold's confession, and not just to Phil. Again the anguish was crushing, and gazing at Julia's gaunt face, Phil knew it was killing her. He approached her, and she stumbled into his grasp, but she didn't cry. She felt to weigh no more than a feather. A feather would knock her over, but Phil gripped her with all his strength, and she giggled.

"Gonna squeeze it outta me Gideon?"

"What Penn?"

"All the life. Not much left these days."

He released her. "Julia, I love you."

"I know. Only you, Ray, and my sons are keeping me going."

What scared him was the truth in her voice. She wanted to die, to not recall hearing her sister's words, that Chuck had made a confession. The last thing Julia had ever wanted to face was the possibility that Claire and Arthur might be right. Phil wasn't sure what hurt her more, that disturbing fact or Chuck's actual deed.

She probably didn't know either and Phil kissed her cheek. "Honey, you need to eat something. You look like hell."

"I feel like hell. Phil, you know what I feel like?"

He wanted to say _yes_ , for he had known that devastation when finding Sunshine's remains, had felt it in hearing Larry Jerrold's words. Maybe he had witnessed it at the age of twelve when Jo-Jo died, or even as a baby when his father's voice no longer made an impression. Phil knew exactly how awful Julia felt, but he only stood as she spoke.

"I feel like all my life's been a lie, all I ever knew is shit. I thought my dad was a good guy. He's a killer. I thought Arthur and Claire were nuts. They were right. I thought my family was my mom, my sisters, my father. My family was a woman who my father had killed. Phil, everything's fucked."

"I'm your family, Ray, Abe, and Jude are too and we're right here Poppy."

She inhaled. "Phil, you're some guy I met at a bus station. And I'm not their mother. I'm their father's girlfriend. Hell, we're nothing to Jude, you think about that? Not one single thing."

Phil didn't get angry with her, but unlike how Crystal had forced him to get over the reality of Stan's murder, Phil couldn't threaten to withhold sex until Julia dealt with this. He wanted to smile; his wife had been pretty crafty. But with Julia, Phil's hands were tied.

Yet, her tone felt like a slap, not that she was disdainful or bitchy. She was empty, and Phil sighed. "Julia, you're absolutely right. All those things are true. I'm no more than some guy who wanted to pick you up in an LA Greyhound station. Abe's not yours, Jude's not yours or Ray's. I can't offer one shred of evidence to dispute those truths."

"Oh Phil, shit. Don't sound so pathetic."

He hadn't felt pitiful, just exhausted. Julia and Ray's guest bed was all right, but Phil hadn't slept well since New Year's Eve, not even with all the sex he and Crystal were having. He wanted to go home, wanted this to be over. But like those left behind on September eleventh, or the way Phil had been haunted by Sunshine's death, he knew this wouldn't be over for ages.

Would he always feel so wiped out? Would Julia? He stared at her. "Baby, I'm just tired."

"Yeah, tired. Shit Phil, I could sleep for a fucking week and not feel any different."

She wanted to sleep forever; if left alone, she might try something, why no one had left her alone since Monday night. Julia had only been allowed to shower unimpeded, but sometimes Marisa managed to intrude, and Crystal and Phil had allowed it. Marisa liked to shower with her mother, saw no difference showering with Abe and Jude's mother. "Julia, you know why Marisa likes to shower with you?"

"Because she's a little lesbian?"

Phil smiled. "Because she likes to shower with her mama, and you're Abe's mama, no difference."

Julia started to cry. "Fuck you Gideon."

"You think you're nothing, you think this has reduced you to crap, to _caca_." Phil used that word around his girls now that poop seemed tied to babies and shit was profane. "You're just a big pile of caca and no one loves you, no one needs you, but you know that's not true."

"I wrote that book for him Phil, I wrote my novel for him! What am I supposed to do with it now?"

He nodded. "I know you did, and I know exactly what it feels like to have one's lifeblood thrown right back in your face."

The failure of his second record still rankled when he thought about it, but Julia stamped her foot. "So what Phil, you got an answer for every single one of my goddamn failings? Sunshine, Stan, wanting to jump off a goddamn bridge, well, whoop-dee-do Phil, aren't you some fucking saint!"

She stepped away from him. "Yup, old Saint Philip, patron of those left behind and those fucked over. If it's not a coke-head girlfriend shooting herself, it's some old bastard coming back announcing Daddy didn't actually put a bullet in his brain." She applauded with vigor. "Good for you Gideon, making it through so many fires. Hell, you should've died on September eleventh, and you even managed to get outta that one. God Phil, what's it gonna take to put you into the ground, huh? Something happening to Crystal or the girls or..."

He slapped her, but was so angry he could have punched her out cold. "Julia, stop it."

She rubbed her face, then as if her words reverberated in the room, she began to choke. "Oh Jesus Phil, oh my God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry Phil, I'm so sorry!"

He opened his arms, but she hesitated. "I know you are Poppy. Julia, I love you, and I accept your apology."

"Why?" she asked, not coming toward him.

"Because right now you really are screwed up. But Penn, only this once. Only today, here, with everyone gone. Now, come here Julia."

"You won't slap me again, will you?"

He shook his head. "Only if you start spouting bullshit. Otherwise, no, I won't slap you again."

On trembling legs she moved his way. When she reached him, it was as if she fell endless steps, but Phil held her and didn't let go.

That evening Chuck suffered a heart attack. He was put on life support and his wife, two youngest daughters, and their partners were told he probably wouldn't regain consciousness. A police officer still guarded the door, but the family didn't care. Once Lee gave the word, tubes would be removed and Chuck would probably die within the hour. Lee was ready to do that, but unspoken was her last request. Phil agreed with her, even Ray felt it necessary, but Julia couldn't go to her father's bedside.

She wouldn't, Phil felt, out of some small manner to appease her mother's spirit, but certainly not because she felt beholden to Claire and Arthur. Phil had been home when yet another call from Florida came through. That time Phil picked up, sitting through two minutes of Claire's thin but smug voice. Then Arthur got on the line, repeating verbatim his wife's tirade. Phil told them to fuck off, then he hung up. He waited five minutes, then left. The phone rang as he locked his front door.

Crystal was all right with changing their number, what Phil would do as soon as this was over, which meant Chuck's life. Then Phil would attend to errands, but he wasn't expecting Julia to be a lot better. He gave her the name of his Berkeley shrink, told her that man probably knew a few good docs in San Francisco. And that if she wouldn't go for herself, she needed to arrange a session for future days when her sons would learn who Poppy was, who Aurora was. And who their Grandma Laura had been, if Julia truly felt like putting all the cards on the table. Phil didn't care in the short term. Between the sisters it had been decided that none of the boys were to be told about Grandpa Chuck's past, Phil and Crystal in agreement about their daughters. For the first time since the reversal, Phil was having second thoughts about wanting a boy. Maybe girls were easier, or at least he knew how to parent them. His daughters were upset with Grandpa Chuck's impending demise, but four small men were devastated their ringleader was nearly gone.

None of the kids had seen him, as Chuck's appearance was alarming. It was the tubes keeping him alive, also the way the adults now regarded him, an upholder of the law who had killed someone. He had killed his wife, or had her killed, but it was the same damn thing, Tom Sullivan had said. Crystal's parents felt Chuck's final years of poor health were hell enough; Julia had overheard that conversation, reminding Phil's in-laws that the years had been rough, also full of seven small children, three of them Tom and Edie's own grandchildren, descendants providing Chuck with a very good run as a grandfather. That had been said out of the kids' earshot, but all had asked Poppy why she wasn't with her daddy.

"I mean," JJ spoke on behalf of the group, "don't you wanna be with him now?"

"It hurts honey," Julia had replied. "Like that week your dad was in New York after The Towers fell."

JJ had nodded, then sat near Julia on the sofa. "But Aunt Julia, Grandpa's your daddy. Don't you wanna kiss him goodbye?"

Phil replayed that conversation while observing his daughter help Julia in the kitchen. Julia might not clean as she cooked, but Crystal did, and was teaching JJ to do the same. Every dish that Julia dirtied was collected by JJ, her small hands nimble and learned. Phil stood silently in the doorway until JJ saw him. "Daddy, how long have you been there?"

"Long enough to make sure you didn't miss anything."

JJ ran to Phil, and he caught her, a small but lively child who still looked so much like him. Phil had just started teaching her to play guitar; maybe one day he would play alongside his daughter, maybe she would strum Stan's songs. "Run along, let me have a minute with Poppy."

"Okay Daddy." JJ's kiss landed right on Phil's temple, which Julia saw. He watched her go slack-jawed as JJ jumped to the ground.

Phil stepped Julia's way, grasping her hands that were covered in flour. She had been taking out her aggressions on a helpless lump of bread dough that now looked smooth. "Does it need to rise?"

She nodded. "An hour, probably more like two. One day she'll know about Stan; I wonder if she'll still kiss you there."

"I hope she does. They're not gonna be little forever."

"She will," Julia laughed, washing her hands. She dried them, then plopped the dough into a large bowl. Turning the lump until all sides were coated with oil, she set the cloth just used over the top.

"Aren't you gonna get a new one?" Phil retrieved a clean dishcloth and replaced the used one. "God Penn, that you keep out the roaches amazes. You used to keep my house pretty damn clean. What happened?"

Children complained in the living room as Ray dismantled the tent. "Phil, I'd say something, but the kids might hear."

"They might see the roaches one of these days too."

"Gonna be worse before it gets better."

He grimaced. "Julia, I'll go with you. He can't say anything, shit, he can't even breathe on his own."

"I can't Phil. Please don't ask me."

He sighed. "Julia, I love you. I don't wanna see you..."

"Don't say that either Gideon, I mean it!"

Other words floated in his head, phrases she had clobbered him with after Sunshine died. Not right after she shot herself, but later, after Daniel's death, and after Phil had drowned his sorrows, then picked up crabs, in Mexico. After he had managed to crawl back north and find the Bay Area again, Julia had lobbed some pretty vicious curveballs right along Phil's brain. He had never wished to throw them back at her, felt obscene even considering it. Yet, payback was often most unkind. "Julia, don't be an asshole."

She glared at him while trying to get out of the kitchen, but he blocked the doorway. Then he closed the door.

"Phil, get outta the way."

"I mean it Julia. I hear the weather's fine in Florida."

"Fuck you."

"I talked to them, well, I was blasted by them, gotta change our number too."

"Don't bother giving it to me."

He laughed. "Honey, I'm not asking you to forgive him, not like you asked of me."

"You said you were gonna hurt me if I didn't leave Phil. You remember that?"

He nodded, then felt guilty for slapping her. "Yeah, I'm sorry Penn."

She sniffed. "But you did hurt me Phil, you hit me just the other night. And now you're holding a gun to my head."

"Julia, don't even say that!"

"It's true. You're standing here, telling me I have to go see him, even though he killed my mother. He fucking hired some goon to run her over. And if I don't go see him, then I'm no better than Mr. and Mrs. Dickwad on the East Coast."

"They're assholes Julia, your words honey."

"No Phil, I think that was your word for them."

"Yours I believe."

"Yours Phil, fuck! What fucking difference does it make? He's gonna die, big fucking deal! He'll be dead, they'll be happy, I'll be miserable, what's new?"

She drummed her fingers on the counter, sounds that to Phil were like shots being fired, his father killed over and over in Phil's dreams, Sunshine taking their baby with her, planes slamming into buildings, into the ground, bodies falling apart. "Julia, what about Lee?"

"What about her?"

"You think about her much since New Year's?"

She shook, then straightened her body so stiffly that Phil ached. The arch of Julia's neck went so far back, as if she could pop off her head.

"Lee's trying to keep a brave face," Phil said. "How do you think she feels?"

"Like shit, he's fucked all of us over."

"But right now she's alone."

"My sisters and Wayne and Adam are all there. Tom and Edie are probably there too."

"But not you Julia. You're Lee's daughter too."

He expected silence, but she exploded. "Fuck you Phil! What, gonna throw any goddamned brick you think'll hurt me? Lee, yeah, my mom. I've got two of them, one was killed by my dad and the other..."

"Is being hurt by you. Lee loves you, and you're spitting right in her face."

He predicted she would yell again, but instead she gripped the counter, turning her knuckles white. Phil stepped her way, wasn't sure if that was wise. She might belt him, but he wouldn't argue. She owed him one.

"Penn, hey Poppy, talk to me."

She didn't seem to be breathing and Phil eased his hand over hers. She was freezing, and he laid his palm over her icy fingers.

"Julia, honey?"

"Phil, I love her. She's the only mother I ever had."

"I know Poppy. I know."

She stared at the counter. "I told her about my abortion. She said she totally understood."

"Oh honey."

Julia met his gaze. "When I was little, before I learned about Laura and realized she was my real mom..." Then Julia laughed. "My real mom, Christ! That's what I need a shrink for, _my real mom_. At first I had the hardest time understanding what Claire and Arthur told me because my mom was alive, you know, Lee wasn't dead. How do you tell a kid who their parent is, real, pretend, dead, alive, what does that mean?"

Releasing the counter, Julia let Phil hold her hand. "My mom, my mom. _My mom..._ " She sighed. "Mom, Lee, Laura, whoever! Phil, I'm sorry if it hurts her that I'm not there. I know this had nothing to do with her, she had no part in this. I don't blame her, I just..."

"Hate him. You hate him, and you're..."

"Don't call me an asshole, Phil."

He smiled. "You're trying to not get sucked under again. I wasn't gonna call you an asshole."

She looked at him. "So you understand, but you still want me to go over there. Even though I'll get sucked under again."

"I don't think you will get sucked under if you go over there. If you stay here, you will."

"What?"

Phil stood as close to her as possible without taking her against him. "Poppy, you're the same kind of mother to Abe and Jude as Lee is to you. Not their biological mom, but the mom who wipes noses and holds puke bowls and all that crap. Aurora means nothing to them, just like that cigar box really meant nothing to you. They made you think she was those pendants and broaches and little pieces of her life. But her life has never been a part of you except in a hurtful, sick way. They used her to try to separate you from your parents, from Lee just as much as your dad. When you threw that box away, you finished your book Penn. Now maybe that book will end up in a drawer or stuck under a couch, but you did it, you wrote it. And I know it hurts now, I know it does Julia. I know it does."

He held her as she sobbed.

"Baby, it's gonna hurt for a long time. I still hurt after I met Crystal, I mean, she took away so much pain, but we didn't get pregnant for over two years; I couldn't face that and even when she was pregnant with JJ, it was still hard. It's gonna be hard for a long time Penn, no saying it's not. But it's not just hard for you. It's hard on Lee, on Liz and Diane. And one day, yeah, it's gonna suck for the kids. They're all gonna have a field day with this one, shit! But we'll get through it, we will. I'm here today Penn, I changed that flight. I let this hippie chick talk me outta jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. I don't know where God figures into this with your dad, we may never know. But I know where he is with your mom, with Lee. God's standing there, keeping your seat warm. Chuck doesn't need you, this isn't about him. It's about Lee, your mom. All this time it's been about your real mother."

Slowly Phil backed away. Julia gazed at her fingers as if she held that cigar box. Then she gripped her hands together, turning them outward, cracking her knuckles. The sound pierced, and the din outside the door halted. Phil stared at her as she wrapped her arms around herself.

A timid knock landed on the kitchen door. "Daddy, Aunt Julia, you guys okay?"

"Yeah Ingie. How's the tent?"

"It's down. Flynn and I want it back up again."

"No, time for it to be put away."

"O-kay. Are you coming out soon?"

Julia nodded.

"Yeah, in a minute," Phil said. "I love you Ingie."

"I love you Daddy. I love you Aunt Julia."

"I love you Ingrid," Julia whispered. Then she approached Phil. "When Crystal was pregnant with her, I watched you. Crystal noticed it too, that you could be a part of that pregnancy." Julia sighed. "I don't know if I'll ever be a part of anything again."

"If you don't try, you'll never know."

She nodded, then looked at the bowl on the counter. The cloth over it lay flat. "If you take me over there, what about that?"

"I think Crystal can manage it. Be good for the kids to watch it rise, let them do something with it. Maybe they can make little bread rolls or something."

Julia weakly gripped his hand. "Okay Gideon, but you have to promise me something."

"Anything Penn."

"If he dies there, you won't make me kiss him. I can't do that Phil, I can't."

"Honey, you can kiss me instead."

She smiled, then leaned against his shoulder. "You're weird Phil."

"Yup, I certainly am."

As Phil led Julia from the elevator, Adam and Wayne stood outside Chuck's door. Adam approached them. "He's gone, we just tried to call you."

Phil nodded as Julia cleared her throat. "Are they with him?"

"Yeah, it was literally a minute ago."

"Did he ever regain consciousness?" Phil asked.

"No, he never did."

Only then did Phil realize the police officer was gone. He wanted to ask about that, but would do it later. Phil wasn't sure if it was good or bad that Julia had missed her father's actual passing, but she seemed eased, and they followed Adam to the door.

Wayne opened his arms and Julia was enveloped. Phil motioned to those men, then entered the room.

Lee held her husband's hand, sitting on his right. Chuck's daughters were on his left, and Phil was in their arms as they stood. Liz wept, but Diane was stoic, how they had often been since New Year's Eve. "Is she, did she..." Liz mumbled.

"She's right outside, Wayne's got her."

Diane nodded, then went to her mother, squeezing Lee's thin shoulders. Phil headed that way. He didn't want Lee to stand and he pulled up a chair. "You okay?"

She nodded. "How is she?"

"Time Lee, it's gonna take time."

She looked at her husband. To Phil, Chuck didn't appear dead; he looked the same as the last time Phil saw him, like an apparition. Maybe some peace had been found, but Phil wasn't sure. Perhaps it was only deep within Chuck that relief was noted.

"Phil, I never knew. I never even assumed..."

She had already said these words and Phil clasped her free hand. She still held Chuck's and Phil kissed her cheek. "It's over Lee, all over."

She stared at him. "Is it?"

"Can you go out there? I don't think she can come in here."

Lee nodded, but looked back at her husband. Phil wouldn't rush her, just as he wouldn't press Julia.

"Mom, I'm going out now."

"Okay Liz."

Diane had left after Phil sat down, and as Liz exited the room, Phil felt a chill. He had found Sunshine, held Daniel, sat near Helen, but this was different, and Phil wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because none of those people were connected to Julia, but this man had killed someone to assure Julia's presence in his life. He had lived harboring that secret, then died with it revealed, even if it meant severing his daughter. She hadn't been here at his last moment, and Phil wasn't sure if she could even see him now.

"Lee, I'm gonna go check on her. Take your time and..."

The door opened, Julia clutching Adam's arm. "Mom?"

"Honey?"

Mother and daughter stared at each other as Julia deliberately avoided her father.

Phil stood, then Adam led Julia to Phil. She didn't want to sit, but Lee stood, and Phil gathered their hands, wondering just how did Lee first meet Julia? Was it after Laura was dead, probably Phil thought, watching them clutch each other's fingers.

"Oh Mom, I'm so, so..."

"Oh honey, I love you!"

Phil wiped away tears. Then he glanced at Adam, who did the same. Then Phil looked at the women; Julia was wrapped in Lee's arms.

Adam left with no words. Phil wished to go, preferring this reunion to occur just between family. He was Julia's family, but Lee was her mother, the only parent Julia had left.

"Wait Phil," Lee's voice cracked.

"Yeah?"

She gestured to him, and he didn't hesitate, enfolded in an embrace as if Lee Penn was his mother too. She was their mother, even if other women had given birth to both Julia and Phil. He didn't shed any more tears as Julia wept. Phil steadied both women, offering a small shield as Chuck Penn lay not three feet away.

In their bed that night, Crystal and Phil rested with their three daughters, the first time in 2002 all were at their own house. Marisa fell asleep in Phil's arms, and after he put her to bed, Ingie and JJ uttered small protests that were soon silenced by the comfort of their beds.

Now with just his wife, Phil breathed a gentle, sated peace, wondering how Julia would be in the morning. She hadn't stayed in that room long, but she had looked at her father, even held his hand. No words had emerged, but Phil imagined those would be ages in coming, or maybe she would write about it, if only in her journal. Phil had bought her a new one three years ago, and only now was she using it, time in coming for many things.

"Baby, you ready for bed?" Crystal asked.

"Yeah. Gonna check the house."

"Okay."

He put on his robe, then rattled the doorknobs, all secure. He grabbed his cell phone from the coffee table, would keep it by the bed. The house phone had been unplugged as Arthur and Claire hadn't gotten the hint. Phil would arrange a new phone number tomorrow.

He considered calling Julia, then shook his head. There was so much to say, where to start? Phil peeked into his daughters' rooms, heard steady, quiet breathing. Three little girls, and Phil smiled.

He closed his own door, but Crystal wasn't in bed. The bathroom light shone, and he set the phone on his nightstand, then took off his robe. He was laying down when she spoke. "Phil, c'mere a minute."

"What?"

"Just come here please."

He padded to the door; she was clad in a nightshirt, brushing her teeth. "Uh, what?"

"Come in here, okay?"

"What honey? You want me to floss or something?"

She giggled; the sound was beautiful, and Phil leaned over, kissing her neck.

"Phil, I can't tell you and Julia's not here. There's something for you on the toilet seat."

"What?"

"Just look Phil, jeez! Don't be an asshole."

He stared at the seat; the lid was down, a small plastic Ziploc bag lying on top of it. Inside that bag was a stick similar to what Phil had seen with each of Crystal's previous pregnancies. Julia had introduced it first, but for Ingie and Marisa, Crystal had done the honors. "Oh my God!"

Crystal spat into the sink, then rinsed the remaining toothpaste. Then she ran the brush under water, drying her hands on the towel. "Phil, guess what?"

He stared at her, his heart racing. "What?"

She giggled. "I think you're working again."

He picked up the bag. "It's blue Crystal. Two blue lines."

"Yeah Phil, two blue lines. I love you honey."

He held it in front of his face as if it was one of Laura's perfect treasures. Then Phil laughed; if Crystal ever had a keepsake box, it would be full of pregnancy test sticks, carefully sealed in Ziploc bags.

"Go call her Phil. I know it'll make her day."

He nodded, but before leaving, he set the bag back on the lid, then kissed his wife. "You taste like..."

"Not milk and cranberry sauce."

"No," he laughed, kissing her again. "Minty fresh."

"Call her Phil, then we can go to bed."

"Right." He walked to his nightstand, grabbed his phone, hitting Julia's cell phone number as he hadn't yet programmed her new home number. Easier this way, Phil smiled. She never answered her cell, hated the thing. It rang, then her voicemail picked up as Crystal traced her fingers along his back, then around to his chest. Phil grew hard as he began to speak. "Hey Penn, I, uh, God Crystal, stop that! Hey, uh, some good news. The, uh, reversal? Well, it seems to have worked. Crystal's in the Ziploc sandwich bag sort of way. So yeah Penn, Poppy, Aunt Julia, I'll, uh, we'll all be talking with you tomorrow. Sleep well!"

" _Hey Phil, Phil! Stupid fucking Floridians, making you unplug the goddamn phone, pick up your cell Gideon, you hear me? I know what you're doing, probably humping her in the laundry room, but if you know what's good for you Phil, Phil? Phil, answer the goddamn phone!"_

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