Page 35 of The Girl with No Name
“What stuff? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Well…” I shut my laptop, ready to be done with work for the day. I made a few calls and some progress on the litany of tasks Hal wanted me to complete, but I didn’t come close to getting everything done. That’s a Monday problem, though. “My cousin and I started a band right out of college. We played shows around Chicago for about a year. And then he died in a car accident. We were all set to go with our families on a trip to Ireland—that’s where some of our great-grandparents were born—and then he died.” It happened years ago now, and it’s not a story I typically tell anymore. I can feel myself getting choked up thinking about the good times we had and where we thought we were headed together with the band.
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.” She seems so sincere.
I sigh. “Yeah, it was devasting. I’ve mostly worked through it, I think. But we’d started this band together. So that dream ended. And the trip our families had booked to Ireland never happened either. I’d had this plan to buy a Celtic cross while I was there, but since I never made it to Ireland, I bought this at an Irish shop in Oak Park—right outside the city—as a sort of consolation prize. It’s more a symbol to me than some announcement that I’m a devout religious follower.”
“But do you believe in God?” she asks.
“That’s a tough question.”
“Well, do you?”
“I went through a big atheist phase in the Peace Corps. Read all the atheist books. You know Richard Dawkins?”
She shakes her head. “Who’s that?”
“He’s this famous English biologist who made the principal argument for the atheist movement starting back in the seventies. And I don’t know if I believe in God, but I do know when I was having a really tough winter after my cousin died, I went to my grandpa and asked him what his biggest regret in life was.”
“What did he say?”
“He said his greatest disappointment was that none of his children go to church. I asked why that disappointed him, since all his kids are good people, and he said, ‘Do you believe in God? Do you think everything in this beautiful world just got thrown up against the wall and it stuck?’”
“Damn. I got chills when you said that.”
“So what about you? Do you believe in God?”
“Yes. I went through something and…I won’t get into the details. But I do.”
“I’m curious, obviously.”
“It’s very personal. But I believe in all those concepts from the bible—faith, divine intervention, love and compassion, the power of prayer. It’s at least one place we can source those concepts from.”
“Fair enough. But one more thing—you were asking about my girlfriend. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What’s your story? You don’t have a boyfriend?”
“You know, I’m a little too tired to have this conversation. I think I’m going to nap until we get there, since I’m sure we have a big night ahead of us.” She glances at my cross again, then nestles back into her seat and pulls her hat over her head.
As we continue to ride together, I think about how Dunn is on his own little journey right now. And Luna certainly is searching for something.
I guess I’m looking for something too, but I’m not sure what. Adventure, maybe? Something to shake up my life?
“Late July”plays again—Dunn apparently can’t get enough of the song—and I look up at Luna, breathing softly, refusing to tell me about her past.
I can tell she’s not sleeping, though.
8
LUNA - 14 MONTHS EARLIER
SONG: “NEVER THIS EASY” – THE RED LEMONS
Whenever May rolls around, Chicago never ceases to amaze me with how it transforms itself into a completely different city than it is during the winter months.
The once icy streets thaw and come alive with vibrant colors and bustling activity. Lake Michigan, no longer shrouded in a gray haze, sparkles under the sun, inviting people to its shores. Parks and gardens, dormant and covered in snow, burst into bloom with tulips, daffodils, and cherry blossoms. The city's iconic skyline seems to stand taller against the clear blue skies. The river, now free from its icy constraints, flows with a renewed vigor. Sidewalk cafes set up tables outside, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the scent of blooming flowers. Street performers return to their usual spots, filling the air with music and laughter. There's a palpable energy in the air, a collective sigh of relief from the city's residents who have endured the long, harsh winter.