Page 141 of The Illusion
"I'd like that."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She squeezes my hand. “Any time.”
Two weeks later, I bring Julie to my parents' house in Queen Anne. She's nervous. I can tell by the way she keeps smoothing down her dress, adjusting her hair.
"They already love you," I remind her as we pull into the driveway. "You know that."
"I know. But it's been so long. And everything that happened?—"
"They don't care about any of that. They care about you."
She takes a deep breath. "Okay."
My mom opens the door before we even knock. "Julie!" She pulls her into a hug, holding on tight. "Oh, sweetheart. It's so good to see you. Really see you."
Julie's eyes fill with tears. "It's good to see you too, Linda."
"Come in, come in. Tom's been cooking all afternoon."
My dad appears from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. When he sees Julie, his face softens. "There she is," he says, pulling her into a hug. "Welcome back, kiddo."
"Thanks, Tom."
"We're so proud of you," he says quietly. "What you did, leaving, standing up for yourself, turning down Ancre, that took real courage."
Julie's voice cracks. "Thank you."
"No thanks needed. You're family. Always have been."
Dinner is easy in a way I didn't expect. My parents don't tiptoe around what happened. They acknowledge it, validate Julie's pain, and then move forward. My mom asks about the cruise, about Julie's plans for the house, about the shop. My dad tells stories about the San Juan Island trip, how they drove Julie's car around and pretended to be tourists.
"Linda took about three hundred photos of eagles," he says. "I think she has a new hobby now."
"The lies this man tells," my mom protests. "I took maybe fifty."
Julie laughs. Really laughs. The kind of laugh I haven't heard from her in months. After dinner, we sit on the back porch with wine. My parents excuse themselves to clean up, leaving us alone.
"Your parents are wonderful," Julie says.
"They really care about you."
"I know. I just... I didn't know if things would be weird. After everything."
"My parents are salt of the earth. They don't judge."
"It makes sense that they raised someone like you," she says.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sun set over the city.
"I'm getting better," she says suddenly.
I look at her. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I can feel it. The weight is lifting. Slowly, but it's lifting."
"I'm glad."
