Accidental Notes: A Novel

Chapter 21

A Change of Plans

Not sure what this story is? The synopsis is available here.

Catch up on chapter 20 here.

Mom’s voice is half an octave too high, staccato and shrill. “Merry Christmas, Adaya!”

I stretch and sit up. My ear is red from being folded under me while I slept, and my glasses sit halfway down my nose until I reach up with an elbow to fix them. “Uh, merry Christmas, Mom.”

Her tone shifts. “Are you okay? You don’t sound well. You’re not sick, are you?”

“No, I just… I was asleep. You woke me up.”

“At 9am on Christmas? That’s unlike you. Are you not having a good time with your dad?”

Worry interlaces with her words, but I can’t tell whether she wants the answer to be yes or no, so I tell the truth. “It’s been one of the better days I’ve had with him.” That’s all I say, though. Last night at the piano together feels like ours, the first thing we’ve had just for us in years and years. “But I miss you. I can’t wait to be home.”

“About that,” Mom says quickly. “I’ve been talking with Seb — Mr. Gutierrez — about your next audition. You’re supposed to have it before school starts.”

Why she’s been talking to him instead of me is beyond me. This is my audition, not hers. I hope she’s not trying to control my life as much as she’s controlled her past.

“I’m aware. We kind of already planned on that.” Although the music I want to play still isn’t ready. And there are so many things I probably should tell her I know now. But I don’t know how to pivot this discussion toward Brennan, especially when it’s clear she has a way she wants it to go.

“Well, auditioning remotely was probably difficult for you, and I didn’t want to put you through that again. So I’ve been looking into getting you home early. It was a bit of an effort, but I managed to get your flight changed. You can come home on the 27th now! Your flight leaves at 2pm.”

“Did you talk to Dad about all of this?” I bet she went entirely behind my back, the way she did getting me here. I can’t trust her with anything anymore.

“I haven’t, actually. Is he there? I should let him know the details.”

“Um…” I eye him on the couch, where he seems peaceful for once. Slippers on, a blanket draped over him, breathing steady. She’ll probably email him anyway, the details, my boarding passes, an itinerary, everything.

But before I can tell her he’s asleep, he stirs and looks at me. “Everything okay?”

“Mom’s on the phone. Wants to talk to you about a change of plans.”

He takes my phone and sits up, the blanket dropping to the floor as he does. “Christina?” is all he says before slumping back against the cushion and listening. She can’t see him, so he doesn’t even try to hide how talking to her makes him feel.

I wish he’d realize I’m right here watching, too.

Finally, he speaks again. “The 27th? Really? That was the one day — I know that was what you could get to work, but did you even ask — Fine. It’s important to her? You asked her and made sure?”

A few more seconds and he hands back my phone. No goodbye, no merry Christmas, nothing. My parents are hardly in the same universe anymore. If they ever had an orbit around each other, they’ve drifted away enough that coming closer just propels them farther apart.

“I don’t actually want to go home yet,” I say. It’s true. Grayson is here. I’ve just figured out the secrets of my family’s past. Once I’m gone, I’m out of time to learn about Brennan. Mom won’t talk about him, Dad won’t be around, and once the estate sale happens, I don’t even know where those boxes in the spare room will end up. With the drive to Portland and time at the airport, we’ll have to leave that morning.

I only have one more day here.

But Dad isn’t even really here anymore to talk to. One conversation with Mom, and he’s the person who picked me up from the airport again instead of the person who played a duet with me in the middle of the night. He turns the TV on to an old golf championship, which is the fastest way to get me out of a room. I wonder if Brennan ever watched with him. Maybe Brennan played golf. I hardly even enjoyed mini golf with Dad as a kid.

Yet Dad’s not the reason I don’t want to go home. It’s Grayson, and the concert — the concert on the 27th. I need to somehow tell him I can’t go to now. This is a problem I know I can’t talk to Dad about. Not even the good dad I had last night.

Adaya: Riley. Help. I have a Christmas emergency.

Riley: Merry Christmas to you too. It’s been great here. Lovely. Thanks for asking.

Adaya: Miss you a ton, but I have a problem. Mom changed my flight and now I’m supposed to come home in two days.

Riley: Uhhhhhh I don’t follow. You miss me but you have to come home? Poor you?

I hate this. I’m so bad at explaining myself when it’s important. At remembering how I’m supposed to talk pleasantries first before I get to the problem. Instead, the problem comes out like me sounding ungrateful. I already know I’m going to be replaying this conversation for years, remembering every way I screwed it up. And focusing on how bad I’m doing isn’t helping.

Adaya: I was supposed to go to a concert with Grayson, okay? He asked me last night and I said I’d go and now I have to tell him I can’t because of this flight to get back for an audition with Mr. G and…

Riley: Uh, what audition? What concert? How much haven’t you been telling me? Come on, Adaya. What all is happening with Grayson?

Adaya: I don’t want to talk about it.

Riley: You clearly do, or you wouldn’t be talking about it.

Adaya: I want to be back for the audition. I miss you and Mom and Mr. G and I want my chance to accompany the choir (that’s the audition Mr. G offered me), but it’s complicated.

Riley: The thing with Grayson doesn’t seem very complicated. He knows about your music, right? Just tell him. He’ll understand.

I put my phone down without responding immediately. Because maybe she’s right and it shouldn’t be complicated. But what we have feels tainted by Brennan and by Dad’s music, and I still don’t know how to talk about that in text, or even video chat. So I send her a shrug emoji and wish her a merry Christmas and get back to trying to figure out what to do.

If I’m going to go home, I’ll need to get a lot farther in learning this sheet music than I have. If I’m going to process what’s happening, I’ll do it best with a keyboard beneath my fingers. And if Dad’s going to annoy me with golf, he shouldn’t be listening well enough to even notice I’m playing his music. He can handle it if he does. Music this beautiful shouldn’t be gathering dust in a box. So I sit down on the scratched piano bench and start to play.

A few minutes in, my phone vibrates. I haven’t reached the flow of the practice yet, so I check it.

Riley: Just FYI, going out of cell service for the next few days. Family beach trip and I swear they found the ONLY resort in Mexico with no wifi on purpose. Hope you figure things out. -R

I toss my phone onto the carpet harder than I need to, letting out a tiny piece of the frustration I’m feeling toward her. Toward everyone. The signature at the end of her text is practically a dismissal, her way of saying, “If you don’t want to talk about things, fine, but this is your last chance.”

But I really, really don’t want to talk about things, so I let the read receipt say everything for me.

Click here to continue the story!