Page 30 of The Spirit of Love

The lead-up to dinner is a whirlwind. Frank and Teddy spill three glasses of water and break two dishes while helping set the table.

Walter Matthau gets terrified by the neighbor’s outdoor cat and cowers at my feet.

Todd lights half the burgers on fire while Edie tries and fails to put on a Spotify playlist that doesn’t devolve into StoryBots.

When we’re finally seated, just before sunset, when the sky is pink and dotted with silvery clouds, and Edie and Todd are consumed with serving and assisting the boys, who are now eighty percent ketchup and all want their food cut up in different shapes at different temperatures on different plates, I lean into Jude.

“This is probably a lot.” I point at his plate, which looks like it was badly glued back together after a recent smashing. “Sorry.”

“It’s terrific,” he says sincerely. “Everything is.” He points at Walter Matthau, who has his chin resting on Teddy’s lap and is occasionally gifted with charred bites of bison burger. “I think maybe, all this time, he’s just been lonely.”

“Maybe,” I say. We both know we’re talking about more than just the dog. My eyes linger on Jude’s beard, and I can’t get Edie’s words out of my head. I feel a little breathless when he says:

“And now, tonight, he isn’t lonely anymore. He’s really happy to be here.”

After dinner, while Edie and Todd take the kids upstairs to get ready for bed, Jude gets up to clear the plates. “Anyone want to do dishes with me?”

“I do,” I say, following him into the kitchen.

He scrubs, and I dry and put things away. I pour us each another glass of wine. And it’s nice, with the din of my family upstairs and us in here, quiet and slightly cramped and feeling new at this friendship thing.

“Have you and Edie always been this close?” Jude asks.

I could just say yes, but of course there’s more to the story, and I can’t believe I want Jude to know it.

Because I don’t talk about this with anyone.

Only ever Edie. And Sam, I try not to think.

But earlier tonight, after dinner, when he spoke about Walter Matthau, I’d felt Jude opening up to me in a way that I want to reciprocate.

And if I’m opening myself up, this is what I hold inside.

“So, funny story,” I start to say, keeping it casual. “When I was ten, I kind of…died for a minute—”

Jude drops the plate in his hands. My reflexes kick in, and I catch it just before it shatters.

“You good?” I ask.

“Sorry,” he says awkwardly. “I just, wow. That’s very interesting. And not what I thought you were going to say. What happened?”

“Pneumonia first, then I spiked a fever. They took me to the hospital. And I…”

I look at him, feeling the bright warm rush of his full attention on me. He seems interested, like he doesn’t think I’m crazy yet, but can he handle this? Jude, who doesn’t believe in anything, will he believe me when I tell him? If he laughs, or dismisses me, then at least I’ll know.

“I left my body for a little while,” I say, holding his soft brown gaze. “I saw how much more there is.”

“How much more is there?” Jude asks, transfixed.

If I closed my eyes I could call it all right back. But I don’t want to look away. My eyes are caught on his.

“It’s everything you’ve heard,” I whisper, and it feels like we’re closer than we were a moment ago, although I don’t think either of us has moved. “It’s far beyond words.”

“Wow,” he breathes.

I nod. “And I almost, you know, went there.”

“But?” Jude whispers.

My eyes sting. I want to say this part without my voice cracking. Because it isn’t sad, and I don’t want to be misunderstood. “But I saw Edie. On this side. And I came back.”

“Fenny.” He’s looking at me in amazement, like I just did something impressive.

Maybe I did. It certainly feels important that I shared this with Jude.

But what do I really want him to know? Not just an explanation for why I’m close with my sister.

I want him to know how my experience then shaped who I am now.

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” I tell him, “is that, in that moment, I knew exactly what I was supposed to do. I felt so clear, seeing Edie, choosing to come back. You could say I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since.”

“The feeling of certainty? Purpose?” Jude asks.

“Yes.”

He nods. “And you’ll have it when you direct. I get it now. Fuck that jerk who stole your job.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say, meaning it. “There’s a way in which I let it happen. I’ve put in all this work on Zombie Hospital , but sometimes I fear I’ve yet to make myself stand out.”

“You stand out to me. Thanks for telling me that story. Is it weird to say I feel honored?”

“Thanks for listening, for not laughing. That moment changed my life. And I’ll always feel grateful to Edie. It keeps us tight.”

Jude hands me a platter to dry, and I’m surprised by how quickly we’re moving through the dishes. He gets easier and easier to talk to.

“I’m an only child,” he says. “I don’t often imagine what siblings might have been like. My parents split when I was really young. But this house, your family, it does make me wonder…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. What I’m missing. What Walter Matthau’s missing.”

“Probably a lot of tummy aches for Walter Matthau,” I joke. “But yeah, I know what you mean.” This conversation is so nice that I don’t want to wreck it, but I won’t sleep tonight if I don’t ask: “You were going to ask me something, earlier. Something about the show, I think?”

“Oh. No. It wasn’t about the show.”

“It wasn’t?”

“I was going to invite you to this thing I have to go to…” He trails off and peeks at me out of the corner of his eye, which makes me smile.

“What is it?”

He takes a breath. “Feel free to laugh in my face…”

“Oh, I always reserve that right.”

He clears his throat. “By any chance, would you want to be my plus-one at a wedding next weekend? I don’t know anyone else going, and—”

“Oh, I can’t.”

“Right. Of course. Big weird ask.”

“No, I would have loved to. But I’m already in a wedding next weekend. One of my best friends. So unless, miraculously, we’re talking about the same wedding, in a city of four million people—”

“Jake Glasswell and O—”

“Olivia Dusk and Jake—” I break off and clamp a hand over my mouth. “You’re the one who doesn’t believe in cosmic coincidences. Explain this.”

He laughs. “Maybe we entered a vortex in Joshua Tree.”

“That and you were recently a guest on Jake’s show,” I say, remembering what Olivia had told me about Jude back when I first met and hated him. “He liked you.”

“Every once in a while, that happens,” he says, running his eyes over my face.

“So let’s go together,” I say brightly.

“You don’t already have a date? I have this image in my mind of you being disgustingly happy with some cheerful beefcake.”

“Maybe I was, once…” I confess. “Unfortunately, that relationship was unsustainable.”

“Too good to be true?” Jude asks.

“Too far away.”

“Alas.”

“Alas.” I smile at Jude. “It’s all right, because I think I just got a pretty decent replacement date. You might have heard of him. Scorsese can’t do an interview without raving about him.”

“I will try my best to live up to that hype.”

“Jude? One more thing?” I say, partly because I see Edie on her way into the kitchen and partly because I’m honestly curious. “Would you ask me to the wedding again, in Portuguese?”

Jude puts down the dish he’s holding and turns to face me. He looks surprised but also game, and his voice drops to a husky rumble as he speaks in the loveliest language I have ever heard.

“ Você seria meu acompanhante no casamento de Jake e Olivia no próximo fim de semana? ” he asks just as Edie comes in.

“Sim!” I answer.

“I don’t know what’s happening in here,” Edie says, gazing around her newly cleaned kitchen, her eyes landing first on Jude and then on me. “But it sounds R-rated, and I approve.”