Page 3 of The Unraveling of Julia

You’re an ingrate! You should thank your lucky stars for her! All she wanted was a baby! And I couldn’t give it to her! She never shoulda married me!

Julia edged back to the staircase.

You wouldn’t be here but for her! You were her idea! The whole damn thing was her idea. I didn’t want you!

Julia’s heart broke that day. The Sigher had been sighing because he was stuck withher. She realized then that adoption gave you a family, but not necessarily a happy one.

Sitting at her desk, she realized how different her life was from other people her age. She was only thirty-two, but she’d already lost all the family she had. So far, her defining moments were marked by gravestones, not milestones. She wondered if grief acquired mass with loss after loss, like an avalanche rumbling down a mountain, gathering size and momentum, flattening everything in its path. Flatteningher.

Julia came out of her reverie and glanced outside, since her desk sat against a window overlooking the street. Bundled-up men and women hurried to work laden with purses, messenger bags, and backpacks. Young mothers yakked on phones while they pushed strollers. Neighbors walked dogs, and runners ran by, checking watches.

Julia couldn’t imagine going Outside, among the people and the phones, the designer bags and the knives. She was afraid, but mostly she didn’t think she belonged there anymore. She belonged Inside, with her mourning and her memories, her voices and her ghosts.

But she had to get to work, today. She turned to her desktop, palmed her mouse, and opened her email account, which piled onto the screen. Her attention went to the oldest email, which came in on October 11, the day of Mike’s murder.

Julia shuddered, thinking back to that morning, which was like any other, then snapped out of it and made herself focus. The email was her daily horoscope from StrongSign, which she usually checked. She’d become interested in astrology after her mother died on her birthday, a fluke of fate if there ever was one, like a freak accident in a family. She often wondered if her own birth was an accident, too, given that she was put up for adoption. Sometimes she even wondered if she was cursed.

Julia opened the email and read the horoscope:

You’re a Cancer Sun, Sagittarius Moon, and Virgo Rising, and you love your home and family. Do not be alarmed but do be aware today. You or a loved one may be in jeopardy. Trust yourself today, and every day.

Her mouth went dry. The horoscopepredictedMike’s murder before it happened. Dumbfounded, she read it again and again, then the guilt, second-guessing, and self-recrimination started. If only she’d read the horoscope that morning. If only she’d trusted herself that night. Could she have prevented Mike’s murder? Would he be alive today? Was it her fault? Was it his fate? Was it hers?

Julia needed somebody to talk to, and she knew just who to call.

Every woman did.

3

Julia FaceTimed her best friend, and just the sight of Courtney Horan made her feel better. They’d met in drama club at their small Pennsylvania high school, where Julia felt weird being adopted and Courtney felt weird being biracial. They were on stage crew together, while Julia painted sets at a level of detail an amateur production ofAnniedidn’t require, and Courtney came into her own as stage manager, even standing up for Julia when a mean girl in the cast called her Little Orphan Julie. On the show’s opening night, Julia didn’t cry during “Maybe” because everyone was watching her, but shelivedthat song.

Their one mistake was giving up me.

After graduation, she and Courtney went to Notre Dame together, helping each other through bad boyfriends and Statistics I, and they got married around the same time, serving as each other’s maid of honor in real Jimmy Choos.

No knockoffs for us!

Julia’s phone screen showed Courtney in aviator glasses that emphasized her striking green eyes and prominent cheekbones. Herskin was a poreless light brown, her thick black hair pulled back into a short ponytail. She wore almost no makeup, naturally pretty in a navy Patagonia fleece and white cotton turtleneck and jeans. She was sales manager for an office equipment company, on the road constantly, a creature of the airport lounge, where Julia found her today.

“Courtney, do you have time to talk?”

“Totally, I’m on another delay.” Courtney smiled. “How’s my girl?”

“I have something to tell you. My horoscope predicted Mike’s murder.”

“What?” Courtney’s eyes widened. “That’s not possible.”

“Listen to this, from October eleventh.” Julia read her the horoscope. “Well? I’m not crazy, am I? It says what I think, doesn’t it?”

Courtney blinked. “It really says ‘be aware’? A ‘loved one in jeopardy’?”

“Yes, and I told you, right before it happened, I knew something was wrong.” Julia remembered the feeling, the dreadful knowing. “I had a premonition, straight-up, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t trust it. The horoscope says I have to trust myself and—”

“Stop, hold on. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Why not? I should’ve said something when I had that feeling. If I’d trusted myself—”

“No, Jules, that’s wrong.”

---