“I don’t know. He was only about my age when he died. Throat cancer. There were no next of kin I could discover. No money. Maybe he changed his name or fell out with his people. It happens.” She shrugged. They were at the door now. “Do you have movers coming?” asked Maddie. “I ask because I like to be home if the door to the building is going to be propped open all day, but it shouldn’t be a problem to arrange.”
Jule shook her head. “I just have the suitcase.”
Maddie looked at her kindly and then smiled. “Make yourself at home, Imogen. I hope you’ll be happy here.”
Hey, Mom & Dad,
I left Martha’s Vineyard a little more than a week ago and now I’m traveling. Not sure where I’ll go! Maybe to Mumbai or Paris or Cairo.
Island life was peaceful and kind of isolated from the rest of the world. Everything moved at a slow pace. I’m really sorry I haven’t been in touch. I just need to figure out who I am without school, or family, or anything else defining me. Does that make sense?
I had this boyfriend on Martha’s Vineyard. His name was Forrest. But we’ve broken up now, and I want to see more of the world.
Please don’t worry about me. I will travel safely and take good care of myself.
You’ve always been wonderful parents. I think about you every day.
Much love,
Imogen
Once she set up her Wi-Fi in the San Francisco apartment, Jule emailed this note from Imogen’s account.
She also wrote to Forrest. She used Immie’s favoritewords, her slang, her sign-off, her “kind ofs” and “maybes.”
Hey Forrest.
This email is hard to write, but I have to tell you: I’m not coming back. The rent is paid up through the end of September, so as long as you’re out before October 1, all’sfine.
I don’t want to see you again. I’m leaving. Well, ha. I’m already gone.
I deserve someone who doesn’t look down on me. Admit it, you do. Because you’re a man and I’m a woman. Because I’m smaller than you. Because I’m adopted, and you don’t like to say it, but you value bloodlines. You thinkyou’re superior because I left college and you didn’t. And you think writing a novel is more important than anything I like to do, or want to do with my life.
The truth is, Forrest, I’m the one with the power. I had the house. And the car. I paid the bills. I’m an adult, Forrest. You’re nothing but an entitled, dependent little boy.
Anyway, I’m gone. I thought you should know why.
Imogen
Forrest wrote back. He was sad and sorry. Angry. Pleading.
Jule didn’t answer. Instead, she texted Brooke two kitty-cat vines with a short note.
IS: Broke up with Forrest. This stripy sad cat is maybe how he feels.
IS: The fluffy orange cat is how I feel. (So relieved.)
Brooke wrote back.
BL: Have you heard from Vivian?
BL: or anyone else from Vassar?
BL: Immie?
BL: Because I heard from Caitlin (Caitlin Moon not Caitlin Clark) that
BL: Vivian is going out with Isaac now.
