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This place will grow and bloom like everything does when you pour love all over it, investing your time and your work.
I see our future, and it’s bright and beautiful, just as real as the present.
EPILOGUE
SULLY
September 25, Theo’s birthday, is the grand opening of the Vinyl Cafe. Theo and Martinique outdid themselves on the decor, reupholstering the booths in burgundy and papering the walls with old album covers. The de-jacketed LPs dangle from the ceiling, strung with lights in makeshift chandeliers.
During those three months of preparation, Martinique and Reese dated and broke up three separate times. They both give completely different reasons for why they finally split for good, while agreeing it’s for the best.
“I’ve got to focus on my career,” Reese says. “It’s not the right time for a relationship.”
“He’s so fucking messy,” Martinique complains. “He makesmelook tidy. Also, he wore a T-shirt to dinner with my mother that had a picture of a naked duck on it that said,Don’t Look At My Butt-Quack.”
“Aren’t all ducks naked?” Theo says, snorting into her hands.
“Don’t make excuses for him.” Martinique shakes her head.
My brother’s relationship isn’t the only casualty of that summer—Angus and Jessica Kate also broke up. Theo learnsabout it when she sees a picture of Jessica and her new boyfriend on TMZ.
“Angus is going to be mad that she’s dating a football player,” she observes. “But if she really wanted to annoy him, she’d go out with Jeff Bezos.”
“I’m sure he’s next on the list.” I consider playing “Gilded Soul”on the jukebox for old times’ sake, but I don’t want to scare away our customers.
The cafe is packed, every booth full and diners lined up along the bar. Martinique posted a photo of Theo’s “exploding shakes” that went semi-viral, bringing in all the local foodies.
Each shake is a work of art, the garnishes seeming to burst out of the glass in gravity-defying directions. Theo’s currently serving up “Breakfast in Bed” to a delighted customer, skewered pancakes and bacon topping a maple-flavored shake, the rim rolled in Cheerios.
She’s wearing the apron I bought her, her hair twisted up in a messy bun on her head. Her cheeks are flushed with happiness, and her pockets are stuffed with tips.
It’s not as much as Angus offered her to come back to work, but Theo turned him down flat.
“No raise is as good as working for yourself.”
“Are you sure?” I teased her. “Because if you ever miss Angus, I’ve got some dreams I need documented…”
“For you I’ll make an exception,” Theo said, tilting up her lips for a kiss. “But otherwise, the only dreams I’m writing down are mine.”
Dreams are funny things…sometimes the ones we picture aren’t as good as the ones we get.
I wanted to pay off my dad’s mortgage, but it’s a hell of a lot better watching him pay it off himself. He’s back at work full-time and three months sober.
Reese has been attending most of his AA meetings with him though he’s no longer mining tragic stories for useful anecdotes. Instead, he signed up for a script-writing course at the local college.
The one who’s probably changed the most is Bernie Sanders. He’s not even a year old yet, and he’s already 160 pounds of hair and drool. My dad’s been teaching him tricks and manners, but the only thing he’s mastered so far is suckering them both into unexpected naps.
If my dad didn’t already love Theo with all his heart, Bernie would have sealed the deal. He’s got a soft spot for that galloping furball that’s got him hauling home hundred-pound bags of dog food and building Bernie his very own poolside cabana for when he wants to sleep in the shade.
I’ve had my own projects keeping me busy, including building cabinets for Theo’s new kitchen and a double set of bookshelves for our room. Theo didn’t have much in the way of clothes or furniture to move in, but she had about a hundred paperbacks moldering away in old milk crates. Now they’re on display where she can color coordinate to her heart’s content, spending entire Saturdays rearranging her shelves.
I never knew I could love coming home so much. The best part of my day is when I call out for Theo and she comes running into my arms.
We still eat outdoors on the picnic table most nights, but my dad will come inside to eat with us if it’s raining.
Well, maybe that’s not the best part of my day…
Maybe the best part is when Theo and I roll into bed at night, exhausted from hours of work but in the best sort of way. Because working for yourself really is different—it’s building something instead of earning a paycheck.
