My Lost and Found Life (30 page)

“Don't worry about it,” I said. “It wasn't your fault the boys hid the money. I shouldn't have left all that cash in the garage. Let's just forget about it.”

She squirmed in her chair. “Well, thank you, but that's not it. It's something else.”

I looked at her, mystified. She sighed and absentmindedly rubbed her forefinger across a tiny chip on the rim of her teacup.

“This has been bothering me for a while now. I need to apologize for stampeding you out of your mother's house—your house—last fall. There wasn't as big a hurry as I let you believe. You could have stayed a few weeks or even months longer before the bank foreclosed. I never imagined you would end up in a place like that camper.”

Her face flushed and her mouth twisted in a self-deprecating
grimace. “To be honest, I blamed you for what happened. I thought it served you right to have to move out of the house and fend for yourself. I was so judgmental. I should have been concentrating on what a bad friend I was instead of what a bad daughter you were. What if you had died? I would have never forgiven myself. As my best friend's daughter, you deserved better from me.”

I looked at her in amazement and then I reached over to grab her hand. “Don't. There's no need for you to feel guilty. Some of it
was
my fault. My mother got herself in a huge mess and I was too wrapped up in myself to notice. I've wished a thousand times that I could go back and change things. All I want now is for her to come home so I can make up for all the awful things I said and did.”

I sighed, one of those long sighs that goes on forever. “Besides, we both know that there's no way I could have kept the house and paid the bills. I had to move on sooner or later. It's been hell at times, but I've learned to appreciate my true friends and you're definitely one of them.”

Gloria sniffed and wiped the corners of her eyes.

I pretended not to notice and shifted my gaze toward the window, weirded out by this new, emotional Gloria. I much preferred the sharp-tongued version.

“Maybe I should make some pancakes,” she said, regaining her normal, brisk voice.

“Don't do it for me,” I said, still looking out the window. “Uh-oh, I think I see Stella stalking some robins. I better go out and chase them away.”

With that, I dashed outside so I wouldn't cry too.

• • •

Except for the noise her boys made, I enjoyed my stay at Gloria's. No more leaping up at dawn and racing to the health club. No more killing time at book readings, coffeehouses, or in libraries. I slept, read, and watched television. Nicole came over several times to hang out, until she had to go back to school. Every few days I stopped by the gas station to chat with Earl.

The weather was consistently rainy, as Januarys tend to be around here. When the sun finally appeared, I decided to make the most of it by driving into San Francisco and going to my favorite spot, the beach at Crissy Field. Along the way, I parked on Union Street to dart into my favorite pizzeria for a slice.

On my way back to the car, I couldn't help noticing a spectacular teal-blue silk dress with a lacy black overskirt in the window of one of the more expensive boutiques. I stopped to admire it, even though I knew I didn't need it and couldn't afford it.

As I reluctantly turned away from the store window, I bumped into a girl walking along the sidewalk with two friends. They were talking and laughing in loud voices and carrying shopping bags from all the expensive shops. With a shock I realized one of the girls was Mara.

“Ashley!”
Mara shrieked in surprise. “How
are
you?”

Just the person I didn't want to see. Ever.

“Mara, hi. I'm fine. How are you?”

“
Exhausted,
just
exhausted,
” she gushed, shaking Armani Exchange and Bebe shopping bags at me. “We're on a mission. I needed some new things and
everything
is on sale. My mother
gave me her card and we're buying the stores out. There are
so many
cute things here, I just can't resist.”

I was acutely aware of my old jeans, plain cotton sweater, and running shoes. Knowing Mara, I knew she wouldn't miss any of those details.

“I haven't seen you in
ages,
” she continued. “What are you doing these days? Everyone is always saying, ‘Where's Ashley? What's up with Ashley?' ”

“I've been busy. How about you? How's school?”

“I'm at UC Berkeley,” she said. “I wanted to go to UCLA, but my mother talked me into staying in the Bay Area. But I'm
loving
it. Hey, guys, this is a friend from high school, Ashley,
the one
I told you about.”

I could just imagine what she'd told them. They didn't look like they remembered anyway. They just looked bored.

“Ashley, this is Morgan and Lauren. They're Tri Delts like me. The sorority is
so much fun.
”

“Great,” I said.

In a tone oozing with sincerity, she added, “Do you live around here or are you just shopping? I heard you had a job at Starbucks or something. How
is
that?”

On hearing that I worked at a coffeehouse, her friends completely lost interest in both me and the conversation. They moved toward the store window I'd been staring at moments before.

“Wow. Isn't that darling? Look at that teal dress with the black lace skirt. I have to try that on,” one of them screeched, and they went inside the store.

I wanted to follow that girl and choke the life out of her, but I managed not to show it.

“We just
love
Union Street,” Mara babbled on. “The shops are so cool and at night the bars are
really fun.
”

“Yeah, it's
fabulous,
” I mimicked her, but she didn't get it.

“So, tell me, what's it like working at Starbucks?”

“I don't work at Starbucks. I did work at a coffeehouse for a while, but not anymore.” No way was I going to tell her about the Madhouse, the fire, or anything else about my life.

“How was it?” Mara rambled on, oblivious to my curtness. “Did you meet lots of hot guys, or”—she dropped her voice—“were all the customers weird and psycho? I don't think I could be around those
types.
”

She shuddered dramatically, but I didn't respond. She spoke again in the pseudo-whisper and asked, “Did you ever hear from your mother? Do you know where she is?”

The bitch! I gave her a cold look. “I have to go. I'm late for an appointment.”

She wasn't done yet. “With a guy? Is he cute? Have you heard about Scott? He's dating some chick from Beverly Hills. Her father is a movie producer or something. Isn't that
wild
?” She gave me a sly, sideways look.

“Wild! Great seeing you, Mara,” I lied, edging away and moving down the street at a trot. It was all I could do not to run. I didn't have to turn around to know that she had gone into the boutique, eager to fill in her sorority sisters.

I found my car, crawled into the driver's seat, and sat motionless at the steering wheel, trying to gather my wits and catch my breath. I waited for the tears to start. But they didn't.

Instead, I laughed. Amazing! I laughed at the whole ridiculous scene. I laughed to think I had ever been friends with
Mara or had ever worried about what she said or did. I wouldn't trade places with her for anything. I'd rather live in a camper than be like her. I'd rather hang out with Earl and the Madhouse gang than listen to her malicious gossip. She and her snooty sorority sisters could have all the
hot guys
and
fabulous
clothes and
really fun
bars. I didn't want any of that anymore.

I was still laughing as I drove away.

In late April, nearly a year after my mother disappeared, my life finally seemed to be under control. Stella and I were living in a three-bedroom house in Twin Peaks. I shared it with Amy and Shannon, a couple of small-town girls from up north who were full-time students at the Art Institute. They were silly and prone to prying, but I could tolerate them.

The Madhouse had not yet reopened because of some hassle with the insurance company. But thanks to a glowing recommendation from Mal, I landed a job waitressing at the Beach Chalet, a trendy restaurant overlooking the Pacific. Chalet customers had more money than the coffeehouse crowd and I pulled in decent tips.

In January I had enrolled in two classes, Written Composition and Introduction to Cinema Studies, at City College. I had even gone to the movies a couple of times with a boy in my Cinema Studies class. Life was okay, maybe better than okay. At times it was even good.

• • •

I was in the bathroom getting ready for my ten o'clock class when Shannon pounded on the door to make herself heard over the roar of my hair dryer. The sound startled me and I knocked a perfume bottle into the sink. It shattered, flooding the room with the scent of gardenias.

“Hey, Ashley!” Shannon shouted. Cursing under my breath, I turned off the dryer and opened the door.

She stood there in her yellow bathrobe and white socks, her face lit up. “There's a cop here asking for you!” she said, eyes wide with curiosity. “What's going on? Are you a secret drug dealer or something?”

I gave her a cold look. “Why? Are you looking to make a buy?”

As I walked into the front room, I saw Ted Strobel. He was staring at Amy's Eminem poster on the wall.

“Don't blame me for that,” I said. “My roommate is the one who loves bad-boy rappers.”

He turned away from the poster to look at me, and I saw he was wearing his serious cop face. I felt a sharp jerk in my chest. He could have been there for any number of reasons. He could be bringing me a message from Earl. But somehow I
knew.
I knew he had come about my mother.

“What is it?” I said warily.

“Sorry to stop by so early, but I have some news that I didn't want to give you over the phone.” He nodded toward Shannon, who was still hovering, not even pretending to do anything except eavesdrop. “Can we talk privately?”

“Sure,” I said, throwing Shannon a fierce look. She immediately ducked into the kitchen, no doubt to continue listening with her ear pressed against the door.

My legs suddenly felt wobbly, so I sat down on the edge of the sofa. Stella darted into the room and leaped onto the sofa, digging her claws into the upholstery. I pulled her down into my lap and began mechanically stroking her silky fur. Ted sat down in the armchair across from me.

“You've found my mother,” I said flatly, sounding calmer than I felt.

“Yes,” he said. “I'm sorry. It isn't good news....” He stopped, reluctant to go on.

“Just tell me. I can't deal with the kind, gentle buildup. Is she under arrest?”

Ted cleared his throat. “I'm sorry, Ashley. The County Sheriff's office found your mother's Mercedes, and there's a body inside. We haven't officially identified it as your mother, but we're fairly sure it's her.”

All I could do was shake my head from side to side. My chest hurt, as if something had broken loose, and I felt disoriented. I stared at the wall as his voice went relentlessly on.

“Her car was discovered halfway down a deep ravine in that forested area between the coast and the watershed lakes. Apparently, she went off Skyline Boulevard on a sharp turn when no one was around. Then last night a motorist lost his hubcap on that turn. He drives one of those vintage sports cars and apparently the hubcaps are hard to replace. So, early this morning, he climbed down into the ravine to find it and spotted your mother's car in the brush about a hundred feet down.
He went farther down to look inside, saw a body, and called nine one one.”

My heart pounded so hard that the noise of it filled my head. Yet it still didn't drown out his voice.

“Pending the outcome of the investigation, we'll be able to tell exactly what happened. Right now, though, we're guessing that she's been down there a long time, probably since the day she disappeared. Her laptop was found and her purse—”

Suddenly, I found my voice. “That doesn't mean anything,” I interjected angrily. “It could be anyone. Maybe someone stole the car. It's not her. I want to see the body. I want to make sure for myself that it's really her.”

His voice was soft, but his words were hard. “No, Ashley, you don't want to see her. The body's been there for almost a year and there's not much left.”

I grimaced in horror as he went on.

“It's not something anyone should see. There's probably some jewelry or personal apparel you will be asked to identify. If not, we'll use dental records to provide conclusive identification. It's the best way, believe me.”

Ted walked over and sat down on the sofa next to me, putting his hand on my arm. Annoyed, Stella jumped up and ran out of the room. But I sat motionless.

“I'm very sorry, Ashley,” he repeated awkwardly. “I came to tell you as soon as we heard. I didn't want you to hear it on the news.”

“I've been waiting for her to come back. I've been waiting all this time.”

“I know,” he said.

“She's dead?” I whispered, and the tears began to stream down my cheeks. “She's been dead this whole time?”

“How can I help you? Let me call someone for you.”

I stood up, but my mind was a jumble. “I need my coat and purse. I need to see Gloria. I need Gloria.”

“I'll take you there,” he said.

I nodded and put my hand up to cover my mouth. A sick, sour taste had risen up the back of my throat. I swallowed hard to force it back down. Biting my lip, I walked back into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. For a moment, my mother's haunted face stared back at me.

I went into the bedroom to grab a jacket and my purse. Shannon came out of the kitchen and started to say something, but I dashed past her to the curb and climbed into Ted's patrol car.