A Song for the Road by Kathleen Basi (classic literature books txt) 📕

She’d had such hope yesterday when the freight train of inspiration had run her down. She’d felt connected to Blaise. Not exactly felt his presence, maybe, but still … connected. What had she expected to happen in the compositional process? To find a secret code that said, “Yes, I’m gay,” or “No, I’m not”?

“Can’t sleep?”

Miriam shielded her eyes from the pool of light and saw Dicey walking toward her.

“No. You?”

Dicey cocked her head one way, then the other. “Just dreading the future. All the what-ifs.”

Miriam slid the cover over the keys and rested her forearms on it. “It’s not so bad. Don’t lose hope based on my experience.”

Dicey shook her head. “Not that kind of what-if. More like, what if I’m not there when Baby Girl needs me?” Her voice broke.

Miriam reached out to lay a hand on her arm. “There’s no need to think that way, Dicey.”

Dicey put her elbows on the keyboard console. “Tell me about your kids. About—Blaise.”

“What about him?”

“I don’t know. What was his favorite song?”

Miriam reopened the keyboard. She started playing the Thomas the Train theme. “That was his first favorite.” She segued to Star Wars. “Then that … and then this.” A Marvel movie theme.

He’d had church favorites too: not just “For the Beauty of the Earth,” but praise music and everything in between.

Dicey settled into a wooden chair beside the keyboard to listen.

It was easier to talk about them while her fingers were moving over the piano. The first few years at St. Greg’s were a bit fuzzy. She and Teo had traded parenting and work shifts so they didn’t have to pay for day care, which meant neither of them slept much.

The twins grew up at church. They’d play with toys on a blanket beside the piano while she rehearsed with cantors. For two years in early childhood, Blaise was fascinated with all things electronic. Once, he’d unplugged a cord in the middle of Mass. What a noise that had made! More than once, he’d shoved the master volume on the soundboard all the way up, causing a feedback screech that embarrassed his parents and enraged the traditional churchgoers, who were already suspicious of music ministry that required guitars and electronic equipment.

St. Gregory’s bell tower had always been left unlocked until one day, while Teo and Miriam were training altar servers, Talia had convinced Blaise to climb up to the belfry and have a contest, one on each rope pull, to see who could get the most chimes out of their bell in one minute.

There’d been ice cream at the rectory with Father Simeon on Christmas Eve, and the day the kids had played tag in the gathering space and tripped the crankiest old-timer in the parish.

By now, both women were laughing. “And I thought my brothers were trouble!” Dicey said.

“St. Greg’s put up with a lot from us.” Laughter felt good. “We had to come down so hard on them, but at night we’d laugh so hard we’d cry.” She sobered. “I envy you, Dicey,” she said. “You have so many sweet moments coming your way.”

Dicey’s smile vanished. She spun her blue bracelet around and around her wrist. Miriam tried to get a better look at it, but Dicey sensed her attention and covered it up. “Well,” she said, standing abruptly, “thanks for the distraction. I should probably try to sleep a while longer.” She walked out of the pool of warm light cast by the lamp.

Miriam sighed. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Dicey was hiding something.

But it wasn’t her business. She’d be better off trying to figure out what—if anything—Blaise had been hiding from her. She wondered if he’d confided in Talia.

Miriam touched the keyboard again, though her heart wasn’t in it. Maybe she should go back to bed too. There were only so many days she could drive safely on no sleep.

She closed the keyboard and turned off the light, heading down the darkened aisle toward the exit. She dipped her hand into the large font in front of the door and crossed herself, then stopped, breathing the faint smell of water.

No matter what had been going on in her life, the sound of water trickling from stone basin to stone pool always filled her with a cool, clean sensation. And sometimes, inspiration.

Gianna, she thought. Talia’s best friend. If Talia had known anything …

Well, it was worth a shot.

She checked her phone. Five forty-five AM. Which meant almost seven on the east coast. A quick navigation to her work e-mail confirmed what she thought she remembered: Gianna was scheduled to serve at Mass this morning—so she should be up.

Miriam tapped out a text message. Got a minute?

Pause. Sure thing.

Miriam scratched her cheek, trying to decide how to word it. Did Blaise ever talk to anyone about what happened at camp?

A pause; then a rush of verbiage appeared. No I never heard anything and neither did anyone else it’s the only thing we talked about Friday at school counselors religion teachers kids everybody it’s crazy

Miriam hesitated. Talia never said anything to you?

A long pause. Miriam squirmed. This conversation felt wrong on so many levels. Not the least of which was the humiliation of having to ask her kids’ friends to tell her about the people she should have known best of all.

At last, a reply. A series of them, one right after another:

No but she was different about blaise

Wouldn’t talk about him the way she talked about other people

Gossip u know

Like she was more protective of him

Just in general

Don’t know if that helps

Mom is calling time for church

Miriam swallowed. Thanks, Gianna.

She laid her phone on her leg.

If Talia had had an inkling that her brother was gay, surely she’d have talked it over with her best friend. Then again, the twin bond was unlike anything Miriam had ever experienced. As much as her children fought with each other, they stood united against everyone else. Blaise hated conflict; he thought deeply and quietly and kept most of it to