Page 104 of You Started It

My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I grab it to a see a message from Mom asking where I am. “I have to go,” I say, hearing the defeat in my voice. “My grandparents are over for dinner. For the first time ever.”

“That’s great,” Axel says, his smile small and reserved.

“If I don’t get to see you perform next weekend, break a leg. I’m sure you’ll be great. You always are when you’re doing what you love.”

“Thanks,” he says, his eyes meeting with mine briefly.

“Take care, Axel,” I say before picking up my bag and turning to leave.

“You can keep your books.”

I turn back. “My books?”

“Yeah.” He grins. “Marty McFly doesn’t need them.”

My mouth falls open as I process this reveal. “It was you?” I ask.

He raises his shoulders slightly. “I didn’t like the idea of you selling your books just so you could pay me back. They mean too much to you.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome.” Our eyes meet and I wait for Axel to say something else. When he doesn’t, I turn back around to leave.

“Later, James.”

I pause at the end of his porch, warmth spreading through me as a secret smile dances on my lips.

Maybe we aren’t completely broken.

“So?” I ask Mom. We’re at the kitchen sink. She’s washing, I’m drying. “How do you feel?”

“So?” Eli asks, coming into the kitchen, carrying dirty espresso cups. “How do you feel?”

“I think it went well,” I say, nodding at my uncle.

“I think so too,” he says, placing the cups in the sink.

“Are either of you going to give me a chance to answer?” Mom asks, turning off the water. “I think it went well.”

We all laugh, and I return to drying dishes as Mom and Eli each pull up a seat at the table.

“They seemed really proud of you. And,” I say, looking back at Eli, “they even asked about Eric. That was nice.”

“And surprising,” Eli says, raising his brows.

“Very. Maybe they’ve grown more liberal in their old age,” Mom replies.

“Or maybe,” I say, putting away the last dish, “they’ve come to realize life is too short to spend it being angry at people just because they decide to live their life in a way that you might not understand. A lesson for all of us,” I say, looking at them smugly as I join them at the table. “I’m glad you came around. Because even if you hadn’t, I’d planned to reach out. They’re my family, too, and I deserve a chance to get to know them and where I come from.”

Mom nods and reaches across the table for my hand. “You’re right.”

“Maybe I should create a Teta and Sedo bucket list and add a bunch of things we can do together. Did you know your mom is the one who made the Palestinian tapestries that hang in their home? It’s called tatreez. And no, I don’t have a homograph for that word.”

“I knew that,” Amo Eli says. “Maybe Mom can do a lesson for all of us when we visit on Christmas Eve.”

Mom’s eyes grow glossy as she swallows repeatedly. “I can’t believe how many Christmas Eve dinners we’ve missed with them,” she says, shaking her head. “I regret so many of the decisions I’ve made. It’s kind of embarrassing how much and how often I’ve screwed up our lives.”

“You did what you thought you had to,” I reply with a shrug. “I’m guilty of the same. Besides, you didn’t turn Dad into an alcoholic. As for Teta and Sedo, let’s just be happy that they’re still here and we have time to get to know each other—again and for the first time. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” I say, looking at Mom, who is now blinking back tears. “You brought us to Amo’s. You weren’t too stubborn to ask for help when you needed it. And Amo, you helped us both rebuild. Even if I don’t always show it, I love living here.”

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