12:00 Noon
Dear Aurora Grace,
I haven’t been able to write for days. I haven’t been able to speak or do anything other than walk. Stick my thumb out. Jump in the back of trucks. None of the truck drivers bother me because I look like shit and I smell of smoke. And when the few pervs who stop for me try to talk me into a trade, I start crying like a crazy person and they drive away.
Whenever I close my eyes, I see Elizabeth—my last glimpse of her. I see the tents burning and I hear the screams, and Elizabeth in the middle of all of it, her beautiful hair on fire, waving her arms at me, yelling at me to run. Sometimes, in my imaginings, she turns into Papa Pete or Officer Nelligan or Ed Hart. Sometimes Brian Griggs or Carrie Masters, who I know must have met a terrible fate. Worst of all is when she turns into Jenny.
After we put Gabriel’s body in the fire, I fell asleep, and woke up to the sound of Elizabeth’s screams. Her father was awake—Elizabeth’s knapsack in one hand, a burning torchin the other. He kept yelling “Witch!” over and over. I saw him do it. I saw him burn his own daughter. Elizabeth was dying and I couldn’t get near her, because her crazy father had dropped the torch and it was a windy desert night and the flames kept growing and spreading, from one tent to the next to the next. Her brothers shrieking.
“Run!” Elizabeth yelled. And so I ran and I ran, thinking about what had happened. Torch in one hand. Elizabeth’s knapsack in the other. That psycho freak of a father had found her tarot cards.
Now, I am trying to get back to the Arco station, because I have decided to let that spot determine my fate. If the pay phone there is working, I will call the number in Gabriel’s wallet. If it’s not working, or if there are police officers there, I will turn myself in and go to jail. If I die before ever arriving there, well, that’s fine too. I haven’t slept in days. My best friend burned to death. Another life I’ve ruined. I can’t make decisions. All I can do is keep moving.
June 25, 1976
9:00A.M.
Dear Aurora Grace,
Aurora Grace, there is a wonderful old movie calledEaster Parade(I saw it yesterday), and in it, this goofy girl named Hannah Brown falls in love with a famous dancer named Don Hewes. And he loves her too, but she refuses to believe it because why would a famous dancer love a goofy girl like her? So, Hannah says to Don, “Why do you want to dance withme when you can have the very best?” And he says, “I don’t want the very best. I want you.”
I’m writing that down in this letter to you so I can remember that line and the movie, and what happened after the movie. I want to take that day and wrap it up in a box that I can keep with me always.
You know, it’s funny. I thought I had to get back to that Arco station so I could either rescue Jenny or receive the punishment I deserve. I was leaving it up to God. But God had other plans. I think God brought me back to that Arco station, so I could experience one full day of perfect happiness. Everyone should have one full day of happiness, Aurora Grace. Even somebody who deserves to lose everything and probably will. Even somebody like me.
Love,
Mom
June 25, 1976
1:00P.M.
Dear Aurora Grace,
I found a pay phone. I called the number. Jenny is alive!!!!!!!!!
Love,
Mom
Forty-One
Robin
WHEN ROBIN ARRIVEDat her parents’ house, she didn’t see her mother’s car in the driveway or, for that matter, Nicola’s. The only car she did see there was her father’s sensible blue Volvo, which gave her a fresh stab of grief that made her doubly glad to be alone.
No reporters either—probably too busy trailing after poor Dean Conrad. But on her way up the walkway, she heard Mr. Dougherty calling out her name. She sighed. Waited in the driveway as he jogged up to her. A nice man. She shouldn’t be so impatient. “How is your mother holding up?” Mr. Dougherty said.
“Surprisingly well,” said Robin, which made his jaw drop. Of course it did. He had lost his wife a year ago, and still mourned her, every day. That was normal. He was normal. Her mother...
“I guess it helps having family around.”
“Yeah, it comes in handy being a few blocks away,” she said. “My dad used to call this neighborhood the Bloom family compound.”
“Actually, I meant that lady. The one with the loud laugh.”
“Nicola,” Robin said. “She’s not family. She’s my mother’s old friend.”
