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Layana’s gaze still lingered on me. “I’m a writer from a small town about four hours’ drive from here, called Cricket Falls.”
“What brought you to Epiphany?” Oma asked.
“My dream to be on reality television, and my best friend Morgan. Really, it was more me who brought her here, though. I thought I’d be one of those runaway success stories, a bright star whose tenacity meant they were bound for megastardom.”
“How is that dream going?” Oma asked. “I imagine it’s difficult to make it onto television.”
“I made it. But it wasn’t everything I’d thought it would be,” Layana said. “The producers painted my best friend as a villain,twisting her words and making the world hate her even though she’s sweeter than this lemonade.”
Layana took a sip of her drink before continuing, “I thought it was going to be magical and that as soon as I made it, I’d end up on a different kind of show, like as a host, or I’d get a documentary of my new glamorous life. But it didn’t make me happy. When dreams become reality, they can’t live up to the lofty expectations, because life is full of surprises and it’s weird and twisty.”
She hadn’t shared that much about her experience with me before.
Oma patted Layana’s hand. “Experience teaches you what you actually want, even if it’s not what you expect.”
What did Layana want now? She wanted to write. She said being near me helped her do that.
“Layana’s using her fame to help me with my image,” I said.
Oma knew full well what the press had decided about me, and I hated that because I knew it hurt her.
“That’s so nice of you to help Gabriel. Those interviewers have painted such an unflattering picture. He’s misunderstood is all,” Oma said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
I tensed.
The last thing I wanted was a photo caption on the internet labeling me “Gremlin,” or a story told in the papers about how I’d repeatedly skipped school after my father had died, or one about the fire I’d accidentally set when I’d thought vices could be the answer to my pain and I tried a cigarette in the woods behind Jasper’s old house.
“We’re going to keep personal stories private,” Layana said.
I felt the full body tension ease from my muscles.
“Maybe I could help paint, and then you can show me his baby pictures,” Layana said. “I bet he was the freaking cutest.”
“Still is,” Oma said.
We helped Oma clean up, and then Layana helped me with the painting. It was a comfortable quiet, something I hadn’t expected.
Unexpected…sort of like Layana.
TWENTY-SEVEN
LAYANA
It was the most weirdly normal afternoon and evening ever—painting and doing other random chores. It was dark now, and Gabriel was driving me home. And that felt anything but normal, at least for us. From the corner of my eye, I watched the way he worked the gear stick.
“If you ever want to talk more about your parents I’m happy to listen,” I said, to break the silence.
“Thank you.”
He didn’t elaborate, so I debated pushing it and asking more. Instead, I chickened out and swerved back into safer territory. “Your grandmother’s a sweetie. I absolutely adore her.”
“Me, too.”
“She’s so warm and open.”
“The opposite of me.”
“I wasn’t going tosaythat.” I licked my lips. “I think you might be warm too, on the inside. You’re like a nearly impenetrable bank vault.”
