Under the Same Stars by Libba Bray(103)

She leaves him with healthy groceries. Tells him he’s done well. That she’s proud. When she’s leaving, without hugs, her eyes glisten with tears. “Soon. I’ll be home soon,” she says. It’s what she used to say to her parents when she’d leave for a tour of duty.

Later, when he’s alone again, which feels extra alone, Miles stares at his phone. Finally, he types out an opening text and hopes for the best.

M2G: Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be an asshole. I’ve forgotten how to human.

Chloe’s reply is surprisingly quick.

ChloeintheDark: Yeah, you were an asshole and honestly, I’m still pretty pissed off at you. We really need to work on your delivery skills. We can talk about it later. My mom has some big 23andMe news. There’s a family meeting or something. FML.

Miles is relieved. At least she doesn’t hate hate him. There’s still a chance to salvage things. He takes a shower and lets the water course over him. He towels off and hops into clothes that are mostly fresh. When Chloe’s call comes through, he’s nervous.

“Hey!” he says, hoping he sounds normal. “How was the family meeting? Are you related to the Bundys?”

He braces for her to say, This is not the time for jokes. We need to talk. But she’s fired up about something else. “You are not gonna believe this. Okay. You know how my mom was upset about her first 23andMe results? She was pissed because it said she didn’t have any Swedish DNA.”

“But … she’s half-Swedish, right?”

“That’s what we all thought. Both times, it said she was mostly German and some Finnish. Turns out she has a secret relative in Sweden. And get this: He’s not Swedish, either!”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah, big whoa. His name is Lars Karlsson. He was born in Stockholm in 1942 and adopted when he was only a few days old. My mom said one of Lars’s sons got interested in finding his birth parents. He did the DNA thing and my mom came up as a ‘predicted relationship.’ Their percentage of shared DNA is high—twenty-five percent.”

“I’m just gonna pretend I know what that means.”

“It means they’re closely related. Like an aunt-uncle, niece-nephew, half-sibling kinda thing.”

“Again: Whoa.”

“You don’t know the half of it. So my mom talked to her secret relative, Lars Karlsson?”

“The new guitarist in Metallica. Right.”

Chloe laughs. “Do not make me kick you!”

Miles grins. It’s okay. They are okay. “Sorry.” He’s not sorry. It was a good line. “Go on.”

“Check this: He’s her half brother.”

Miles’s brain is trying to catch up. “So…?”

“That means Mormor had a baby in Sweden when she was a teenager and gave it up for adoption,” she says.

“Whoa.”

“I think we are way beyond whoa. I was thinking about what she said in ‘The Tale of the Hare and the Deer.’ ‘Sometimes babies have to be raised by other mothers. It happens.’ Miles, maybe you were right about Mormor. She’s not who I thought she was.” He can hear her sniffling on the other end. “And I may never know who she really is. Never have the answers to this mystery.”

He lets her cry for a while, fighting the urge to fill the silence with a joke or a useless statement. He doesn’t want to make another mistake like yesterday. Chloe is hurting. He knows that she’s afraid, that Mormor may never start talking again. That she is already lost.

When Chloe’s snotty gasps grow less frequent and she starts blowing her nose, Miles says the one thing that comforts him: “Mom Lisa says that the most radical thing anyone can do is be who they are.”

“Yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

“Fair point.” Miles takes in a deep breath. Now seems as good a time as any: “I wasn’t honest on Halloween. When you asked me about my type, I wanted to say, you. You’re my type, Chlo. You always have been. Type seems like I’m putting you in some category. You have always been my person. I should’ve told you before, but I was scared of losing our friendship.” He thinks about what Danny said about acorns. “Scared of a future I couldn’t see.”

He feels suddenly tired. Like he’s run twenty laps around the un-air-conditioned gym and has finally gotten to sit down on the bleachers. He’s not sure what he wants her to say. Maybe nothing. Maybe telling her the truth after all this time is enough for now. “Anyway. I’m sorry I was an asshole.”

Chloe sniffles. “You were. But I was, too.”

“Is that like WeWork—Co-Assholes?”

Chloe snorts. “Good band name.” She twirls her bangs. It’s her nervous tell. “I got scared, too. And then it was senior year and it seemed like a stupid time to start anything. And now, well, who knows what’s next? Frogs could start falling out of the sky.”

“Cool. Free frogs.”

They sit quietly in their own spaces, together and alone.

“Any chance you’d wanna go to the world’s worst online prom?” Miles asks.

Chloe lets out a deeply held breath. “Why not?”





KLEINWALD, GERMANY.


AUTUMN 1941