Page 58 of Crescendo

Lydia

I tried to put on a smile when Natália met me at the airport, but it felt like I was moving my face in a wax mold.

“I thought you were never coming home again,” Natália said, walking quickly across baggage claim to give me a tight, bracing hug. Going from British levels of hugs to Brazilian levels of hugs was going to be an adjustment.

“You know it was only a two-month program from the get-go,” I said, and she pouted.

“Your accent still sounds the same. I was hoping you’d come back sounding all posh British.”

“We’ve… been on the phone. You’ve been hearing my voice.

” Still, I squeezed her, hugging her longer and tighter than I normally did, just letting myself sit in the moment for what was probably a few seconds but might well have been hours.

It wasn’t about the flight exhaustion. I’d been so drifting in and out of awareness ever since I kissed Ella goodbye that I’d barely even noticed I was in the air, and now, suddenly, here I was, Los Angeles.

The fact that it was only half an hour later in local time than the time when I took off didn’t help.

Felt like I’d stepped through a wormhole.

Natália stepped back, taking a long breath and giving me her puppy-dog eyes. “You look so sad,” she said. “I didn’t mean to take you away from your girlfriend. I feel terrible, like I should have been able to do this myself, like I should have—”

I put a hand up. “Shh. It had to happen anyway. And I’m happy I can be here for this. Now—enough talk about that. London’s behind me.” I stood up taller. “So… is your girlfriend here, or did she have work to do?”

Natália shoved her hands in her pockets, swaying aimlessly, looking away. “She’s in the car. I made her wait there because I didn’t want to be in the middle of a whole fight here in the airport and I wanted to make sure first that you weren’t going to start throwing hands!”

“I’m too tired. I’ll throw hands tomorrow.” I paused. “So, you did go and make it official then?”

She went wide-eyed, staring at me for a few seconds before, awkwardly quiet, she said, “Um… how badly do you want the answer to be no?”

“I’m not going to be mad.”

“Yes,” she said, and I was a little mad. But not on my life was I going to show that in front of Natália. I strained a smile.

“If she ever treats you badly in any way, or makes you uncomfortable, or if you just don’t feel right—at all—in any way—then let me know. I’ll even restrain my urges to get in a fistfight with her if it does come to that, so we can work it out productively instead.”

She smiled sadly at me. “Thank you. It’s good to have you home.”

Home, huh? Guess it was that. Home suddenly felt like a thing that was vague and blurry around the edges, but this was where I had to be, so it had to be home. “It’s good to be home,” I made myself say. “Let’s not waste any time. We’ve got a blockbuster to score.”

“Lydia,” she said, fumbling to keep up with me as I started striding towards the exit. “Lydia, wait!”

“There’s no time for waiting.”

“Lydia, don’t you want your luggage?”

I turned around. “Yes, I do,” I said.

It took an eternity for the baggage carousel to spit out my suitcase, or maybe it just felt like an eternity—either way, it felt like the antsy feeling building up in me would explode by the time I got my suitcase and got out to the car, where Melinda had the trunk open waiting for me, and I flung the suitcase into the back before I turned to face her, looking her over.

She tried to stand up taller, tried to defiantly match me, but I could see the way she shrank away, just a little, instinctively, her eyes not quite meeting mine.

Natália’s soft gaze, tinged with sadness, looked between the two of us. Girl really did like her.

I stepped forward, and I pulled Melinda into a hug. “Could at least say welcome back,” I said, thumping a hand on her back, and she squeezed me.

“Just kinda wondering whether to anticipate the left hook or the right one.”

“Treat her well or I will fucking kill you.”

“It’s a promise, okay, I swear.”

Guess that was the pesky thing about friendships as old as Melinda’s and mine.

Had to stick with them even when they were dating your actual, literal, biological daughter.

I stepped back from the hug, taking a long breath, standing up taller.

“Good,” I said. “Damn, you’re even shorter than I remembered.

You two sure you’re good dating? You don’t need someone who can reach the top shelves? ”

Melinda grinned. “Nah. I can’t stand tall girls. Too full of themselves, running off around the world on some goofy-ass inspiration quest and abandoning them halfway through to run home unexpectedly…”

“Is that true of a lot of tall girls?”

She laughed. “Get in the fucking car, dude. You look exhausted.”

Natália spoke up. “Also, I just climb on the counters.”

Melinda hung her head. “Yeah, she does do that…”

We argued for a minute over who got to ride shotgun—I told Melinda in no uncertain terms that if she was going to date Natália then she was not shoving her in the backseat like an accessory, but Natália told me I was the one exhausted from a transcontinental flight and also that I was almost a foot taller than she was, and the dispute was eventually settled when Natália installed herself in the backseat and refused to move, and Melinda would have crashed the car to spite me if I’d sat in the back too and left the passenger seat unoccupied, so I grudgingly let Natália have this one, sitting up front and resting my head back against the seat.

The two of them chattered on the whole drive back to my house—industry gossip, personal life updates, silly drama, the shows they’d been watching lately, Natália’s new Zumba class that was probably going to get abandoned in two weeks like all her random rotating fixations, only to get picked up again with newfound vigor four months from now.

All these things I’d once known like the back of my hand, suddenly like I was seeing it all for the first time.

And I was uncomfortably aware of being the third wheel here.

They deliberately kept down this energy between them, but it was still obvious between the two of them…

finishing each other’s sentences. Ella and I had done that too.

How corny was that? Like a heavy-handed happy couple shorthand in a film.

I bet she’d have loved being in the car with us like this, talking to the two of them. Natália would lose her mind, grill her on every imaginable detail of doctor life.

Once the conversation had slowed down a little, with Melinda focused on traffic as we got into the city proper, I found myself looking at my phone, pulling up my text contact with Ella, against my better judgment.

It felt impossible not to text her, not to say anything, but… saying anything felt impossible.

We’d said goodbye. Surely that was it. What would happen if we stayed in touch? Just the two of us constantly longing for each other? Or, worse, just me constantly longing for her while she moved on?

Maybe I should have at least let her know I’d gotten here safely.

Maybe at least communicated this much and worked out what we were supposed to do now, what we were supposed to feel now.

But I couldn’t work out how to word it, couldn’t make myself type it, and when Natália asked me something about the other Crescendo program attendees, I wound up slipping the phone away, vowing to leave it.

Once we got back to the house, Melinda parked along the tree-shaded street in the front, turning to me across the center console with a strained smile. “Here we are,” she said. “So, do you want us to bring you dinner or something, or do you just want us to let you sleep right away?”

I shook my head, swallowing against the lump in my throat. “We’ve got work to do,” I said, looking back at Natália. Melinda made a sound in her throat.

“Work? Dude, you just flew across eight time zones and you look like you’re going to pass out, cry, scream, throw up, maybe all at the same time.”

“I know. That’s why I need to get to work already. Natália? Shall we get to this title theme?”

Melinda shot her a look. “Natália, you can talk sense into her better than I can.”

Natália looked at her, and back at me, lingering on my gaze, before she sat up taller. “Let’s do the title theme.”

“ Natália, ” Melinda pleaded, and Natália gave her puppy-dog eyes.

“It’s what she needs, Meli.”

I shrugged with a small, sad smile at Melinda. “Sorry, dude. Mother-daughter alliance wins out.”

Melinda put a hand to her forehead. “Dude, she is not your daughter.”

Natália’s jaw dropped. “ Meli. How could you say that to my literal, biological mother?”

Melinda threw her hands up. “God, I don’t know why I try. Fine! I’ll hang around and make sure you two aren’t working yourselves to death.”

“You’re the best,” Natália said, reaching forward and embracing Melinda tightly, and I tried not to experience murderous intent when Natália gave her a big cheek kiss.

She’s twenty-six years old was suddenly my mantra.

Natália was not still a young and impressionable girl straight out of college and out of her element in the US.

Still, if there was ever a good reason for me to stay in LA, it was to make sure Melinda didn’t take advantage of my literal, biological daughter.