We Fell Apart: A We Were Liars Novel(27)

“How will you know? Like, how much to cook? Or whether to wait up for him?”

“I never know what Kingsley’s plans are. That’s not the way our partnership works. You will need to be patient and discover what occurs. Why don’t you have some breakfast?”

“Is that another suggestion?”

“It’s an offering,” she says. “You’re a guest in my home and I want you to feel welcome and nourished.”



* * *



—

When I have eaten, June shows me to the Oyster Office, good on her word to give me access to my electronics. The room is at the base of Oyster Tower. It has one curved wall, similar to my bedroom. A wooden desk and chair are lit by a single lamp, and by the light that streams in the window. On the desk are six laptop computers, including mine. There is a bowl with five charging cell phones, also including mine. June gives me a piece of paper with the Wi-Fi password and leaves me alone.

On my phone, four texts from Saar.

A mirror selfie of him in a tight-fitting blue suit on his way to an industry event.

Stylist says baggy pants are over but I am REALLY NOT SURE. Might have regrets tomorrow.

You good? You didn’t make fun of my suit, which makes me think you might be dead.

Checking in from LA. How was the dad meet? I googled Kingsley Cello and !#$%&*.

And finally: Matilda! You okay? Pls confirm not dead. You know I have anxiety.

I should have checked in. It hadn’t actually occurred to me that Saar would be wondering how I was.

I send him a video game gif from Something Rotten: Hamlet slaying a dragon. Your suit = rockstar vibes.

I think about telling him more—explaining about Kingsley being gone, meeting Meer, who is my brother, the indigo, the trip to Beechwood Island—but some part of me doesn’t want to give a blow-by-blow of this journey to my anxiety-ridden, overexercising adult roommate, kind as he is. I want to just have it for myself. And I can’t quite put it into words, anyway. So I write: We did a tie-dye project.

Saar writes back right away. It’s super early in California, so I can picture him doing what he does every day at this time: lifting dumbbells in his garage gym, wearing his ancient Juilliard sweatpants.

Tie-dye, WTF?

Apple Cash $400 sent by Saar Adler. For snacks and stuff you might need.

You’ve got this, Matilda. Lemme know when you need a flight home. I’ll book it for you.

I heart his text, shut Messages, and google Kingsley Cello Cinderella.





26


I have heard my father’s voice in a few video clips, but never on a podcast. This one is about contemporary art, and it seems to be the only program of this nature that Kingsley’s ever done.

With my earbuds in, it sounds like he’s right next to me. His voice is deep and his American accent standard, like the accents of wealthy people on TV, but he has a very slight lisp, which softens his authority.

The podcast is linked to some kind of art journal. The idea is to interview creators in depth about a single work of art. This one is about Cliffside Gothic, which was apparently displayed in a Cello retrospective that happened at the Tate Modern.

The host begins with a couple compliments, which Kingsley laughs at, and a biographical question, which Kingsley avoids. Then a question about the painting.

“There’s this Grimm story I grew up with,” says Kingsley, speaking slowly. “In it, a father sets three brothers into competition with one another. He wants to see who deserves the family house, the inheritance.

“One becomes a barber. The second becomes a blacksmith. The third becomes, what is it? A swordsman. A fencing expert, something like that. They all become masters at their crafts, and in the end, the swordsman wins the house—but he never wanted to be pitted against his kin. In fact, the three brothers love each other so much they decide to live in the house together all their lives, and in the end—I’ll never forget this—in the end, they’re all three buried in the same grave.”

“Wow,” says the host.

“Same grave! No wives, no partners, no children. Nothing and no one more important than their brotherhood.” Kingsley pauses, then asks, “Are you like that with your brothers?”

“Me?” The host sounds confused.

“Yes. Do you have brothers?”

“Sure. But we’re not like that. They’re both accountants.”

Kingsley laughs. “The point is, the father sets the brothers against each other and they do everything he wants. They spend years perfecting their crafts for his judgment. But in the end, their bond is stronger and more important than all that parental cruelty.”

“And that’s what Cliffside Gothic is about?”

“Efraim.” Kingsley pauses. And waits.

“Pardon?” says the host, eventually.

“I assume you have looked at this painting, probably for some time, before interviewing me about it.”

“Yes. Yes, I have.”

“So you know that it is not a painting of brothers who love one other.”

“It’s a portrait of the family in ‘Cinderella,’?” says the host. “Cinderella with her feet covered in ashes. With ash under her nails. Now, what’s the significance of that tale for you? Is it a favorite childhood story?”