“Where did you get him?” Owen asks. We never had pets as kids. Our parents didn’t want the mess or responsibility of caring for creatures besides me and Owen.
“It’s kind of a long story. There’s a café where I’ve been doing some baking. An old lady there gave him to me.”
Jacob looks up. “Mrs. Kaminski?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“She calls you Sadie the Cat Lady.”
I guess Jacob did notice Mrs. Kaminski muttering at me that one day. “Yeah, that’s uh… a long story, too.”
Owen looks back and forth between me and Jacob. “Who is this Mrs. Kaminski? And how do you two know her?” I realize this must come as a bit of a surprise to my brother, who has no idea that Jacob and I have even had a conversation when he wasn’t around, other than a bit of small talk at my parents’ house at Thanksgiving.
Jacob ignores Owen’s question, sitting up straight in his seat. “Wait, you’re the new baker at Higher Grounds? Their scones are amazing now.”
I smile shyly. “Thank you.”
Owen shakes his head. “So, you’re baking at some café now? What happened to Xavier’s?”
“I’m still working at Xavier’s.” I turn around to look for my purse. “This is just a side gig.” I returned to Xavier’s for my shift the day after the Rob incident, and nobody seemed to have noticed that I’d taken off early the night before. Xavier hasn’t asked me to help out as a server again, and if he does, I’ll have to fake an illness and go home. Actually, I won’t have to fake it. I will actually be ill.
“Why are you doing this?” Owen asks. “For your Someday Bakery fund?”
“Every bit helps.”
“Well, if you’d let me invest a little, it would help a whole lot faster. And you wouldn’t have to work two jobs.”
I sigh because I am both moved and exasperated by this offer. In the tech world, a guy with Owen’s skills is in high demand, and with all his bonuses and promotions, he’s recently found himself with more money than he knows what to do with. Other than his expensive hoodie habit and penchant for pretentious cocktails, he’s not really a spender. It’s not the first time he’s offered to help me out, but I’d rather bake Twinkies for the rest of my life than take money from Owen. “Thanks, buddy, but I can’t.”
It’s his turn to sigh in exasperation. “Why not?”
“Well, first of all, what would Mom and Dad think if I took my little brother’s savings to fund my cupcake hobby?”
“Who cares what they think?”
I roll my eyes. “Easy for you to say, Golden Boy.”
“Whatever. Work your two jobs, then. Where is this Higher Ground place, anyway?”
“Bedford Avenue,” Jacob says. “Past that liquor store you like.”
“So…” Owen points at Jacob. “You’re hanging out at the café where Sadie is working?”
Jacob shrugs. “They have good coffee.”
I’m not sure what the look Owen gives Jacob is about. It’s sort of an eyeroll and headshake all packed into one. Jacob just shrugs again.
We head out for breakfast at the Buttered Biscuit, Owen’s and my favorite diner. It’s such a dive that even the Brooklyn hipsters don’t ironically hang out there, but the pancakes are thin and crepe-like with crispy, butter-fried edges, and the eggs are perfectly cooked. Growing up, breakfast at Owen’s and my house consisted of sugar-free Muesli with skim milk or low-fat yogurt. So, in adulthood, we’ve both developed a thing for greasy, fried hangover breakfasts, and we try to meet at the Biscuit every month. Despite the fact that I find my little brother generally annoying and gross, I also kind of adore him, so it’s nice to have this time to catch up.
I ask about the robot he’s building at work because I’m still trying to grasp the intricacies of AI and computer vision. Owen eventually gives up trying to explain and tells Jacob and me about an idea he has for a video game design instead. I know as much about video games as I do about robots, but it sounds like a good idea, and Jacob agrees.
Now that I’m paying attention, I notice that Owen and Jacob’s friendship is actually very sweet. Maybe it’s because they’ve known each other since they were nerdy little boys, but there’s none of that manly bro-stuff happening here that I’ve seen with other guys. Alex and his friends might talk about real things that are important to them, but I’ve never witnessed it. Mostly, it’s a lot of shit-talking and one-upping each other.
But Jacob and Owen actually know what’s going on in each other’s lives, and they talk about it as if it’s not just an opportunity for a punch line, but something that really matters. Sure, they make jokes at each other’s expense too, but the ribbing doesn’t dominate the conversation. I’m suddenly really glad that my brother has had this enduring friendship for the past two and a half decades.
“So, how are things going with Olivia Rodrigo?” Owen asks Jacob when we’ve exhausted the video game conversation.
Jacob leans on the table and puts his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth.
“Olivia Rodrigo?” I look from my brother to Jacob and back. “The pop singer?” I’m very familiar with Olivia Rodrigo. The songs “traitor” and “good 4 u” got me through the worst of my Very Bad Year. “Are you doing a music project with Olivia Rodrigo?”
“I wish,” Jacob mutters, and it’s muffled since his face is still buried in his palms. He finally lifts his head. “The woman in the apartment next door is going through a bad breakup. She and this jerk have been on and off for months. When they’re on, I hear them fighting, and when they’re off, she plays Olivia Rodrigo on repeat until they get back together.”
“It’s very loud,” Owen adds.
“I obviously hate the fighting,” Jacob says. “But the constant Olivia Rodrigo tunes are messing with my own music.” He drops his head back in his hands and sings a couple of lines from “drivers license.” “Over and over and over,” he laments.
A shiver goes up my spine because not only did Jacob just sing, totally off the cuff, which I now know is not something he’d do in front of just anyone, but his voice is beautiful. Warm and deep and almost haunting, just like that song he played on the piano. It’s perfectly on pitch, even though he’s slumped over the table, with a little rasp at the end. The constellation of feelings this revelation evokes must be playing across my face, because Owen is giving me the side-eye.
I look away and rearrange my silverware. “So, I guess that must be annoying.”
Jacob lifts his head again. “I mean, it’s kind of a catchy song. Great bridge. It might not be a problem if her apartment didn’t share a wall with my music studio. It’s impossible to get any work done.”
For about the hundredth time since I started this second chance year, a vague memory from my Very Bad Year begins to take shape. Paige. The next-door neighbor. When I’d moved into Jacob’s guest room, Olivia Rodrigo was also playing on repeat. I guess I’d caught Paige on an off period of her relationship, too. I hadn’t really minded the music because who was I to judge someone for their reaction to a bad breakup? But I’d felt bad for her.