Page 146 of In Harmony

“It’s not that simple,” I said. “It’s not yes or no, it’s…all tangled up. Yes, I’m hurt and angry with him. But we were both forced to do things we didn’t want to do. Now we’re coping. He’s coping the only way he knows how and so am I. Finally. I made it back here. I’m away from my parents and I can start over.”

Angie shook her head. “Three years, Willow.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m not denying it hurts. It does. I’m getting stronger every day, but pretending like I don’t love him or don’t miss him isn’t going to get me anywhere.”

“Sounds like someone’s been talking to my mother.”

I laughed a little and looked around. “Where is Bonnie? I thought she was going to join us?”

“She wanted to give us some alone time. But she’ll be at your show tonight. Wouldn’t miss it. I hear you’re slaying some Ibsen.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’m enjoying it. It’s helped too. But Christ, enough with my shit already. How’s Stanford? How’s Nash?”

We ordered burgers and shakes and ate while Angie filled me in on the details. Nash was at school in Pennsylvania. He and Angie were somehow making a long-distance relationship work while she was double majoring in robotics and pre-med at Stanford.

“I’ll basically be in college until I’m eighty,” she said. “I’ll have one year to actually practice medicine until I croak.”

“But it’ll be a solid year.”

“Oh, for sure. Like…golden.”

As we talked and laughed the hours away, I felt another piece of myself, once broken and scattered across North America, were put back into place.

Out on the sidewalk, we hugged again.

“Bye, love,” she said. “See you tonight, after you knock’em dead.”

She started to go, but I grabbed her hand, blinking back yet more tears.

“Before I met Isaac, before I auditioned for Hamlet, before I had anything else that was good here, I had you. You were the first person to break through the walls I’d built up around myself from all that shit with Xavier, and I just want to thank you for that.”

“Dammit, Holloway,” Angie said, swiping her fingertips under her eyes.

“You’re a life saver, McKenzie, okay?” I said. “You’re a fucking life saver.”

Angie pulled me close again. “Do me a favor?” she asked, sniffling.

“Anything.”

“Tell Stanford that? Because it would save me a shit-ton in med-school tuition.”

I met my parents in the lobby of the HCT at quarter after six. It felt uncomfortable to have them over to my little cottage. Now that I was no longer depending on them for anything, their iron-clad grip on me was slippery at best. As was my grip on forgiveness.

They greeted me in the theater lobby with too-wide smiles and loud talk.

“I’m so pleased that you’re letting us throw the cast party after the performance,” my father said.

“It’s a thoughtful gesture,” I said.

“Yes, it’ll be quite nice, I think,” my mother said. “The hotel—the Renaissance—is very nice. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Funny how everything in Harmony was nice now, as opposed to when everything Midwest was beneath her. All at once, I felt incredibly sorry for them both.

“It’ll be great,” I said. “Thanks for being here. I have to go get ready now. I hope you enjoy the show.”

God, I sounded like a pre-show recording.

“Willow,” my father said. He looked about to take my hand. “I just wanted you to know I’m proud of you,” he said, stuffing his fist in his pocket. “Your reviews have been quite complimentary. And the work you and Mr. Ford are doing to keep the theater as a living piece of history in this town is quite commendable.”