She lifted a finger, stopping me, set the plate on the nightstand, and hopped off the bed. She bent down and flipped through her record collection. She found the one she wanted and pulled it out, turning it over to show me.
“Wonderful World, The Best of Louis Armstrong,” I said. “I own it.”
“This is an original.”
“So’s mine. I much prefer the original to a copy.”
“Me too.”
“My grandfather used to sing Louis Armstrong songs to me when I was little. I suppose it’s how my love for jazz music got started.”
She nodded, slipped the record into place on the turntable. The needle dropped, and the room filled with the warm crackle of vinyl as the sound of Louis’ trumpet came in, bright and brassy, his voice rough with heart. Talia plopped back on the bed, eyeing me like she wondered why I was still standing there.
“Well, I’ll leave you to eat your breakfast,” I said.
“I doubt I’ll eat any of it. My stomach’s not good most days.”
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Sorry won’t change anything. But hey, thanks.”
On my way out, I turned. “I lost my best friend several months ago.”
Talia folded her arms, leaning against the headrest as she said, “Oh, yeah? What happened?”
“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to give it to you straight. She was murdered on my wedding day.”
“Are you serious?”
I nodded. “I wish I wasn’t. I caught the guy who did it, and though he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison, it doesn’t seem like it’s enough. She died, and he’s still living, even if the life he’s living is behind bars. It’s still a life or some semblance of one. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
She reached for a piece of toast and took a bite, surprising me. “If I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer?”
“Try me.”
“If you could have killed the guy who murdered your friend and you were able to get away with it, would you have?”
The answer came right to me, though I hesitated before giving it.
“I have been put into positions many times when I’ve had to make a choice, and this one was one of the hardest. But yeah, I think some people deserve to die.”
“Wow, that’s dark. I like it.”
“Listen, your father said you didn’t feel up to talking to me about what happened, and I get it. All I ask is that when you are ready, you’ll reach out to me, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
I closed her bedroom door behind me and made my way downstairs. In the kitchen, the smell of coffee lingered as I joined Talia’s parents at the table. Brianne sat with her hands wrapped around a mug, staring into it as though lost in thought, while Gabriel tried to fill the silence with polite conversation about the weather, the neighborhood, anything but the obvious.
We talked for a few minutes, and then a soft creak came from the stairwell. I glanced over my shoulder and caught sight of Talia standing on the bottom step, one hand gripping the banister. Her bright blue hair fell forward, shadowing her face as she hovered there, hesitant but listening to our conversation.
Gabriel noticed her standing there and said, “Hey, honey, do you want to join us?”
“I … no.” Then she looked at me. “Hey, Georgiana, do you want to go for a walk?”
9
The morning’s light had softened by the time we set out, but the air was still cool enough to see our breaths when we spoke. The forest behind the neighborhood seemed to stretch on for miles, a dense weave of pine and oak that swallowed sound the deeper we went.
