a roundabout just in front of me.
“Marty, mate!” a voice calls out behind me.
Shane walks down the street toward me. He looks like he’s in costume, dressed up with a tie and button-down shirt. His French horn case is gripped tightly in one arm as he throws the other around me. I let go of my suitcase and wrap him up in a hug.
“You left me with a stranger!” I say, laughing.
Pierce pulls Shane into a one-armed hug. “I’m a much better host than Shane, here. We saw Big Ben, the Abbey, 10 Downing, and—”
“And I had to wheel a suitcase over a mile of cobblestones.”
Pierce rolls his eyes.
“So I see you’ve met, then,” Shane says. His Irish accent seems to have gotten thicker, somehow. It reminds me how Mom’s is mostly gone, how she claims she worked to get rid of it as soon as she got to America. “I was about to take the bus back. Have you gotten yourself a pass yet?”
We walk to the bus stop, which is just down the street. Pierce makes a point to take my suitcase again, after my cobblestone comment.
“Congrats on the audition,” I say. “Tell us how it went!”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I never feel good about these things. They were auditioning for a few parts, and there were loads of musicians in there. Kind of freaked me out, remembering just how many people are looking for the same jobs we are.”
It’s like his anxiety creeps into my body. But then again, I’m out here to do the same thing. There are a billion oboists out there going for the same parts, and if I don’t get something, and soon, I’m out.
“You’ll get it,” Pierce says.
Shane shakes his head. “I admire your … unflinching optimism.”
A double-decker bus pulls up to the stop, and Pierce takes a step onto it. “Sod off. I’m feeling positive today. Meet you at the top?”
Shane lets an old couple onto the bus before him, and leans back to chat with me. “Marty, I’m so sorry I had to leave you. There was no way to call you, and I didn’t think you’d be checking emails. I hope he wasn’t too annoying.”
“Seriously, it’s fine. He was really sweet.”
My cheeks glow warm, which Shane picks up on immediately.
“I know Americans lose all sense when it comes to British accents, but can you not crush on my friend? I know too much about that wanker to let anyone I love fall for him.”
I sigh as we both scan our transit cards. “I’m very tired. He’s very cute. He has a beard! How is that even possible? Help me, I’m but a weak mortal.”
“Don’t call that patchy mess a beard; his ego will never recover.”
We take the stairs to the top, where Pierce has staked out a front row view from the upper deck of the bus. The street shines before me, and I feel immersed in this wonderful world. Without thinking, I take the seat next to Pierce as Shane takes the seat opposite me.
“Mom’s a bit gutted she won’t see much of you this summer.”
Aunt Leah. I smile. “Will I see her before she leaves?”
“One night,” Shane says. “Then she’ll be out teaching that design course in Rome for the rest of the summer.”
My chest rises, then falls. One summer. That’s all I have to make it here. My aunt didn’t escape my clumsy web of lies either—she thinks I’m here for the summer program at Knightsbridge. When she comes back, I’ll need to have all my shit figured out before I’ve overstayed my welcome—a source of income, a place to live, a life that can’t be swayed by my parents or by my family here. When she comes back, I’ll be eighteen. I’ll have a home established here.
And I’m not leaving.
As we hop off the bus, Shane and I say our goodbyes to Pierce.
“Well, this is where I leave you. You’re in good hands with Shane, here—thanks for letting me crash the welcome party.” He points to a series of stout, brick buildings. Uninviting, but unsurprising. “This is where I live. I’d invite you in, but I’ve got about four hours of practicing to do.”
Shane waves goodbye, but Pierce faces me, waiting for a response, as he takes a couple of backward steps toward his building. I grunt a thank-you. But it’s really all I can think of to say. Thank you for showing me around. Thank you for having the perfect balance of smells,