Page 53 of Love Scenes

“And if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all,” I say.

Dad pats my shoulder. “C’mon now. She’s got a few more years before it all bores her. Let’s let her see.”

Daya all but winces. Joseph’s looking at me, but I don’t dare look back, instead painting a placid smile on my face, trying very hard not to reach down and touch my pinkie toe. Or adjust my dress. Or fuss with my hair.

Joseph jumps from the ground up to the trailer in an impressive, if not excessive, leap. “Come on in!”

“Someone get this guy a stunt job,” Dad jokes. He’s talking in that voice he uses when he’s secretly judging someone. I can hear him on the car ride back from set, running through the visit with Daya.What was with the Donovan kid jumping around everywhere? I thought he was gonna climb up a light pole.

Bless his heart, he thinks we still hate Joseph.

I cannot even begin to imagine trying to explain to him how much that’s changed.

Dad, Daya, Sarai, Joseph, and I cram ourselves into the tiny trailer. Five people in a space best suited for two, maximum. Nothing is particularly askew, and maybe it’s only in my mind, but the energy is different. Charged. Buzzing off of every surface.

I’m considering a move to a remote island off the coast of anywhere but here.

Dad—the type of person who has always felt at home wherever he is—goes straight for the couch, plopping down and wingspanning his arms along the back edge. “You keep it neat,” he notes to Joseph.

Joseph’s eyes pass over me as he appraises his place. “I try.”

“How’s your dad doing? I bet he was excited to see you teaming up with Guy. I haven’t had a chance to catch their movie together, but I remember when it came out. It was a big deal for the both of them.”

I make a note to tell Joseph not to take it too personally, since Dad hates Guy. Saying he hasn’t “had a chance to catch” a movie that came out in 1979 is peak Alexander Ford pettiness.

Joseph runs his hand across the whiskey bottle. “He’s in New York doing a play.”

Dad nods, genuinely impressed. He loves when people do theater. “Good for him.”

“How are you feeling?” Joseph asks. The unspeakable question.

Sarai gives Joseph no time to learn of this mistake. “Is this your mom?” She’s picked up the picture frame from the counter, and she’s holding it close to her face for a thorough inspection.

“Indeed it is,” Joseph answers.

Sarai smiles. “She’s really pretty.”

Watching all of this unfold, it’s so clear these people are my family. I have been in all of these places, done all of these things.

Daya makes a sweeping gesture with her arms. “Well, Sarai, what do you think? How’s Joe’s trailer look?”

“It’s fine,” she deadpans.

“And there you have it,” Daya says. “Your trailer has been rated Fine by Sarai Davidson-Ford. The write-up will be coming inVarietywithin the week.”

Our small talk continues at an easy clip. Joseph eventually cuts it off, realizing he’s late for hair and makeup. All of us follow him out of the trailer.

When it’s time to part ways, he does a little double head nod at me. Something I take to meanWe’ll talk later.

Later never comes.Dad, Sarai, and Daya stick around for the rest of the night to watch. The conversation feels nonstop. There isabsolutely no room to even step into a dark corner, because if it’s not Sarai who finds me, it’s Powell. Or Mom. Or Dad. Or Guy.

Daya, for her part, tries to wrangle everyone, even going so far as to wink at me when she thinks she’s finally pulled it off. Then Joseph’s makeup artist swoops in for touch-ups, and Daya balls up her fists and throws them to the sky for me to see. Her attempts to help are so deeply admirable I decide that if there is anyone in this family that would be my friend without any other connection, it’s her.

As the hours pass since my kiss with Joseph, I start to convince myself it never happened. That’s the only way I can justify looking Mom in the face, knowing I was halfway toward doing exactly what she accused me of when all this began.

It’s only when I’m home, in my bed, that I allow myself to revisit it. The feel of Joseph’s hand on my back. The warmth of his mouth. How familiar he felt to me. And still so new. Someone I needed time to explore.

Someone I needed to kiss when I wasn’t angry.