Page 58 of Pieces of Ash
Learning a little more about who Ashley is, and that she’s here to mourn her sister, has been a game changer for me in my feelings about her living here. It’s not that I suddenly trust her, per se, but I finally have some answers about who she is and why she’s hiding out in the middle of nowhere. I’m no stranger to loss, and the truth is—as I look across the table atmylittle sister—losing Noelle would break me. I can’t imagine what Ashley is suffering, and that I have added to her pain by snapping and barking at her fills me with shame. Gus brought her here for sanctuary, and I have compromised her peace by rejecting her modest efforts to live companionably.
You can do better, Julian, I tell myself, and as I watch Ashley in the flickering candlelight, an intense longing takes root within me.
Noelle nudges me under the table, and I curse internally. Like every little sister in the world, she has effortlessly pickedup on something I just as soon would have kept to myself—my newly sanctioned crush. Fuck. When we get back to my room, she’s going to be relentless.Hell, she’s probably already planning our wedding.
Thankfully Ashley’s stories are so compelling, I find myself alternately grimacing and chuckling at another misadventure of Tigín’s instead of brooding. The tales she’s told us about growing up with her famous sister are riveting. At turns hilarious, unbelievable, and awful, she paints a vivid picture of Tig as a hedonistic, headstrong woman who said “Fuck the world” a lot more than she probably should have.
“Then what?” asks Noelle, sipping her third beer.
Whether she likes it or not, it’s also herlastbeer. I’ve been counting, she’s underage, and a fourth beer will make her bold enough to say things that will embarrass me and Ashley. I’m cutting her off when this one is cashed.
“Well, the ratings onLure Mewere still really good. I mean,The Devil Wears Pradahad started this fascination with fashion magazines, andUgly Bettywas still their only major competition.”
“So they didn’t fire her?” asks Noelle. “I mean, I know they didn’t, because she was still on the show, but what happened behind the scenes?”
“The network said she had to apologize to Vanessa Williams and give ten thousand dollars to the NAACP.” Ashley’s smile is small as she shakes her head. “I mean, the weirdest thing of all is that Tig wasn’t racist at all. Not even a little bit. She justreallyhated Vanessa.”
“Like, personally?”
Ashley nods. “Which is so strange because she’s seriously the nicest woman in the world.” She picks up her glass and takes a drink of water. “Maybe Tig was jealous of her. I don’t know what the problem was between them.”
Noelle has stars in her eyes. “I bet you knowa tonof celebrities.”
“I met a lot when I was little,” says Ashley. “But I’m not really from that world. Not anymore, anyway. We moved away from Hollywood when I was thirteen and my mo—sisterenrolled me in Catholic boarding school.”
“Boarding school?” I ask.
“Mm-hm.”
“Where?”
She stares at me for a second, and I can read her face like a book. She doesn’t want to tell me. Why not? I wonder. Why is the location of her boarding school a secret? I suddenly realize that, while sheseemsforthcoming, sharing stories with me and Noelle over pizza, she’s been telling us a lot about her famous sister and precious little about herself. She mentioned, at some point, that her sister was born in Wales, where her parents still live, butshewas born in Ohio. And I know that Gus is her godfather. But it startles me a little to realize I haven’t learned much else about her tonight.
She smiles politely, her expression closing before my eyes, and says, “It’s late, isn’t it? Thank you so much for dinner. I haven’t had pizza in a long time. It was really good.”
“Thanks for joining us,” says Noelle, smiling at Ashley like she’s her newly minted BFF.
“I invited Gus and Jock for dinner tomorrow,” Ashley says, holding Noelle’s eyes and pointedly ignoring mine. “I hope you’ll both join us at six.”
“We’d love to!”
I kick my sister under the table. In retaliation, she reaches over and pinches the top of my thigh. Hard.
“Can we pick up dessert?” she cheerfully asks.
Ashley shakes her head. “Nope. I’ll take care of everything.”
She pushes away from the table, reaching for our plates and stacking them on top of her own. Gathering the empty cups and used cutlery, she cradles the pile of dirty dishes in her arms as she stands. It occurs to me now, after learning that her sister was runway royalty, that she’s actually pretty humble. She cooks and washes dishes. She grew up in Hollywood, flush with cash, witnessing God only knows what, but was moved, at a young age, to a Catholic boarding school.
Without realizing it, I’m piecing together the two strange halves of who she is.
Part temptress, part angel.
Part shrewd, part foolish.
Part wisdom, part innocence.
Our past determines our future, I think to myself as Noelle stands up and moves around the table to say good night to her.If she is part Hollywood chaos and part Catholic school virtue,I wonder,who am I? What makes up the parts of me?Without warning, three faces pass through my head. Noelle’s. My mother’s. Magdalena’s. Three different women who have influenced my life, my journey, my future.
