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Authors: Amanda Eyre Ward
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the blanket pulled close to her face. Madeline and I huddled next to each other, trying to get warm.
We waited at home. I guess I expected a message from Ellie, a secret sign. Maybe I had screwed up the plan, I thought: had I told her to meet us somewhere else? I had a dream that she was waiting behind the dogwood tree in our yard, but no one was there when I checked in the morning. I sat in my closet with my eyes closed and my fingertips to my temples, thinking so hard I got dizzy. What had I missed? Where had I gone wrong? It was always clear to me that her disappearance was my fault.
The next morning, we took the police to Maxwell Elementary, watched while they interviewed teachers and kids who might have seen her. Police combed our town. People would answer their doors smiling, and then their hands would go to their mouths or to the wall for support as they heard about Ellie. We stayed home from school and our father stayed home from work, sitting in the den and drinking. My mother snapped out of her lethargy and began a frenzied search that would possess her for the rest of her life. She made photocopies of a picture of Ellie at Pronto Printer in Port Chester and tacked them up all over town. She called every person in the Holt phone book from a neighbor’s house, starting with the “A’s” and moving through the alphabet.
After two days, the policeman assigned to Ellie’s case seemed nervous. He was a young blond man, with pale skin and blue eyes. When he talked to my mother and she began to cry, it looked like he would cry, too.
We found out later that after forty-eight hours, the chances of finding someone drop significantly. Ellie’s picture was on the news and in the paper. Reporters surrounded our house. I could hear them late at night, opening beers and laughing on our lawn. In the morning, they drank coffee from paper cups.
THIRTEEN
B Y THE LIGHT of the Christmas tree, my mother’s face glowed. “Can you find her?” she asked me. “Maybe you could go out there to…,” she looked down at the clipping, “Arlee, Montana. I’ll pay anything.”
“Mom, it can’t really be her,” I said, though my heart was hammering in my chest.
“But what if it is?”
I shook my head, and stared at the picture. The girl looked like me, like Madeline. She looked like my mother, those crinkles around her eyes. And her hair was the same color Ellie’s had been: light brown, with slices of gold. “This was last year?” I said.
My mother nodded. “Think about it,” she said. “I know it seems crazy. But before we…before we let that lawyer… shouldn’t we be sure?”
“I can’t just leave,” I said, lamely.
“I know, honey,” said my mother. “It would be for me,” she added.
*
After she went to bed, I stared at the picture for a while. In some ways, I felt like Madeline did: if Ellie were alive, laughing at some fucking rodeo, why wouldn’t she have called us?
I was exhausted. I did not want to think about Ellie. I went upstairs and changed into my nightgown. I lay in bed for some time before I finally fell asleep.
Her breath whispered across my face: Caroline. I felt her kiss on my forehead. Goodbye, Caroline. I struggled toward consciousness, swimming upward, opening my eyes.
“Ellie?” I said.
Madeline looked startled. “No, it’s me,” she said. She brushed my hair back from my forehead with her fingers. “Just me,” she said. I blinked.
“Am I awake?” I said.
“Don’t know,” said Madeline, “but Ron and I are off. Have a safe trip back, Care.”
I sat up, but did not reach for my sister. There was so much we hadn’t talked about, so much unsaid, but I didn’t stop her as she pressed her lips to my cheek and walked away, leaving a lipstick goodbye.
When I came downstairs showered and wearing mascara my mother almost dropped the paper. “Sweetie!” she said, “Look at you!”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Well! I was thinking we could hit the day-after-Christmas sales.
We waited at home. I guess I expected a message from Ellie, a secret sign. Maybe I had screwed up the plan, I thought: had I told her to meet us somewhere else? I had a dream that she was waiting behind the dogwood tree in our yard, but no one was there when I checked in the morning. I sat in my closet with my eyes closed and my fingertips to my temples, thinking so hard I got dizzy. What had I missed? Where had I gone wrong? It was always clear to me that her disappearance was my fault.
The next morning, we took the police to Maxwell Elementary, watched while they interviewed teachers and kids who might have seen her. Police combed our town. People would answer their doors smiling, and then their hands would go to their mouths or to the wall for support as they heard about Ellie. We stayed home from school and our father stayed home from work, sitting in the den and drinking. My mother snapped out of her lethargy and began a frenzied search that would possess her for the rest of her life. She made photocopies of a picture of Ellie at Pronto Printer in Port Chester and tacked them up all over town. She called every person in the Holt phone book from a neighbor’s house, starting with the “A’s” and moving through the alphabet.
After two days, the policeman assigned to Ellie’s case seemed nervous. He was a young blond man, with pale skin and blue eyes. When he talked to my mother and she began to cry, it looked like he would cry, too.
We found out later that after forty-eight hours, the chances of finding someone drop significantly. Ellie’s picture was on the news and in the paper. Reporters surrounded our house. I could hear them late at night, opening beers and laughing on our lawn. In the morning, they drank coffee from paper cups.
THIRTEEN
B Y THE LIGHT of the Christmas tree, my mother’s face glowed. “Can you find her?” she asked me. “Maybe you could go out there to…,” she looked down at the clipping, “Arlee, Montana. I’ll pay anything.”
“Mom, it can’t really be her,” I said, though my heart was hammering in my chest.
“But what if it is?”
I shook my head, and stared at the picture. The girl looked like me, like Madeline. She looked like my mother, those crinkles around her eyes. And her hair was the same color Ellie’s had been: light brown, with slices of gold. “This was last year?” I said.
My mother nodded. “Think about it,” she said. “I know it seems crazy. But before we…before we let that lawyer… shouldn’t we be sure?”
“I can’t just leave,” I said, lamely.
“I know, honey,” said my mother. “It would be for me,” she added.
*
After she went to bed, I stared at the picture for a while. In some ways, I felt like Madeline did: if Ellie were alive, laughing at some fucking rodeo, why wouldn’t she have called us?
I was exhausted. I did not want to think about Ellie. I went upstairs and changed into my nightgown. I lay in bed for some time before I finally fell asleep.
Her breath whispered across my face: Caroline. I felt her kiss on my forehead. Goodbye, Caroline. I struggled toward consciousness, swimming upward, opening my eyes.
“Ellie?” I said.
Madeline looked startled. “No, it’s me,” she said. She brushed my hair back from my forehead with her fingers. “Just me,” she said. I blinked.
“Am I awake?” I said.
“Don’t know,” said Madeline, “but Ron and I are off. Have a safe trip back, Care.”
I sat up, but did not reach for my sister. There was so much we hadn’t talked about, so much unsaid, but I didn’t stop her as she pressed her lips to my cheek and walked away, leaving a lipstick goodbye.
When I came downstairs showered and wearing mascara my mother almost dropped the paper. “Sweetie!” she said, “Look at you!”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Well! I was thinking we could hit the day-after-Christmas sales.
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