Part 17 (2/2)

Instead, when he finally found the cognitive function to piece together the words he wanted to say, what came out was: ”Pick you up at five on Tuesday?”

After dinner Ash set up the new alarm clock that Jackie had pilfered from the supply closet, then dragged her sore a.s.s down the hall and into the shower. She slapped the showerhead a few times and cursed the dormitory for its flaccid water pressure, just one of the many ”benefits”

of living on an eco-friendly campus. Even with the k.n.o.b wrenched as far clockwise as it could possibly go, the stream was lukewarm at best. She resigned herself to the tepid shower and closed her eyes, letting it wash away the day's debris- The odor of death from the back of Colt's truck- The cold of the stream water as she knelt beside him- The flash of terror as she watched him fall from the log- The nauseating sight of Wolfe being sucked down into an early grave . . .

She felt grimy inside and out. Why had she forgotten 213 the d.a.m.n loofah back in the room? A thorough scrubbing was in order.

Then there were the larger questions. The distrac-tions of school, and new friends, and lame but entertaining boyfriends had always provided enough background noise to keep thoughts of her birth parents at bay, but now that she was alone and saddled with a new ”divine”

ident.i.ty, the curiosity had found her again.

Ashline and Eve had, for obvious reasons, been aware from an early age that they were adopted. The story that the Wildes had shared with them growing up was brief but satisfying: They had been the only two siblings in the island orphanage, an infant and a girl who couldn't have been far past her first birthday. Even though neither of them would have been old enough to have more than a fleeting memory of ever having a sister, Thomas and Gloria couldn't bear the possibility that someone would adopt one without the other.

Maybe it had been the comforts of growing up upper cla.s.s, or maybe it had just been selfish ignorance, but Ash had never probed her parents for more information.

Now, as her mind traveled halfway around the world to an island she couldn't remember, she felt lost in the yawning abyss of one question: Where the h.e.l.l had she come from?

With three half-apologetic beeps, the water shut off. The Blackwood showers were all set on five-minute timers, and Ash often found herself wondering whether 214 this was another green feature, or whether it was simply intended to cut down on the shower lines in the morning.

Either way, it sucked.

When she returned to her room, she was ready for a nap. She was ready for a daylong spa treatment. But above all, she was ready for a familiar face, so she did something fairly atypical for her: She followed her umbil-ical cord to her cell phone, texted her mother, and waited on her laptop for her to sign on.

When Ashline was first struggling to convince the Wildes to let her attend Blackwood for the rest of soph.o.m.ore year, one of the final bargaining chips that she'd played had been a solemn pledge to remain in communication. The promise of a weekly phone call was not enough for Gloria Wilde, so Ashline had had to improvise.

Her solution? Two web cameras, purchased with the final vestiges of her bat mitzvah money, and a guarantee that they would set aside time every Sunday for long-distance face-to-face chats.

Her mother's face appeared on the laptop screen, as eager and darling as Ashline remembered her. She must have been sitting out on the porch, because Ashline could make out the dark street in the background-it was three hours later in New York-and the porch light backlit her blond curls with a gentle glow. A smile crossed her mother's face as Ashline's image materialized on her screen as well, and Ash experienced a twinge of guilt for wondering so feverishly about her birth parents. This was her true mother.

215.

”Only a minute to log on and set up the camera,”

Ash said. ”You're becoming a real technological wizard, Mom.”

”Oh, you know,” her mother replied bashfully. ”I've got the step-by-step directions you wrote out for me taped to the back of my laptop. You lead a busy life over there. I wouldn't want to keep you waiting while your mom fights with her Mac.”

Ash cringed. ”Sorry I haven't had time to chat in a few weeks. Life around here as been kind of-”

”What is that?” her mother interrupted, squinting at the computer screen. ”Did you go shopping for an orange dress?”

It took Ashline a moment to realize that her mom must have been staring at something behind her. When she looked over her shoulder, she discovered her orange jumper, draped over the back of her reading chair, fully illuminated under the floor lamp. ”s.h.i.+t,” she mouthed.

She turned back to the camera. ”Yeah, it's a . . . sundress.

Weather's warming up a tad around here, and I didn't have much in spring colors, so Jackie and I took a day trip up to Crescent City.”

Gloria wrinkled her nose. ”In last year's tangerine too. I hope you got that on clearance.”

”Trust me,” Ashline said, ”It was practically free.

How's Dad?”

Her mother glanced both ways on the porch to make sure the coast was clear before she let out a sigh as long 216 as the March wind. She leaned closer to the microphone.

”He's maddening, is what he is.” She threw up her hands.

”I always figured he'd have trouble living in an empty nest one day, when you would eventually go off to college, but his coping mechanism is completely busted. It's like he's grasping at anything he can stuff in here to fill the s.p.a.ce. First he takes up yoga on Sat.u.r.day mornings, which was fine, because-this is going to sound awful-at least it got him out of the house. But then just last week, he suddenly decides to become a vegan, and since he does most of the cooking, that means now I'm a vegan too.

It's been nothing but soy and tofu and asparagus ever since. This morning I opened the Times after he read it and found two red circles in the cla.s.sified sections, one around salsa dancing lessons at the Y, and another for a toy train collector set for sale. When I asked him about the trains, you know what he said? 'It's for the Holidays.'

It's only May, Ashline. May!”

Even with a hand over her mouth, Ash couldn't stifle her giggles. ”Breathe, Ma,” she said. ”Maybe there are some yoga relaxation techniques he can teach you.”

”I'll breathe however he wants me too, but if I have to go one more week without a steak, I'm going to crack.

I swear, it's like he thinks that if he flaps his wings hard enough, he'll forget that it's been almost a year since he heard from-”

Gloria stopped, her sentence derailed. It was a frag-ile thing, and Ashline knew that well. Ash had left Eve's 217 name back in New York when she'd boarded her flight at LaGuardia four months ago, and she hadn't said it aloud since. Eve's memory was like a thawing pond: The sound of her name could send them all cras.h.i.+ng back through the ice.

They were all just trying to forget about her in their own ways.

Her mother lifted her eyes from the screen and gazed directly into the camera, searching, pleading. ”You haven't . . .”

”No,” Ashline said firmly. ”Not once.”

”But you'd tell us if you did?” Gloria looked tired, and for the first time since the conversation had started, Ashline noticed how much weight her mother had lost in the months she'd been away. Even her face had changed shape, as if the bones had rearranged beneath her skin.

The face of silent grief.

”Of course,” Ashline said, when what she was really thinking was, But not if it would break your heart.

When the break in conversation was too much for her to bear, Ash started to say, ”I really miss-”

But it came out at the same time her mother said, ”I should get back to- I'm sorry, honey. What did you say?”

Ash bit her lip. ”I was just saying I've got some work I've got to do. Econ reading.”

Her mother reached out and touched the side of the camera, like she was trying to brush Ashline's bangs out 218 of her face. ”Okay, sweetheart. Let's do this again next Sunday?”

”You bet,” Ashline said. And then she closed the laptop screen down to the keyboard, severing the connection.

She was grateful her roommate was still three thousand miles away so there was no one to see her cry herself to sleep.

She woke up clutching her pillow to her face, with only the knowledge that it was most certainly too dark for it to be morning already. In fact, there was no way to immediately know how long she'd been out, because the digits on her brand new alarm were unlit. She flicked her desk lamp a few times just to be sure, and, yup-the power was out.

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