Page 63 of Pieces of Ash
“Is he chasing raccoons?”
“You have a good memory.”
“Photographic,” she says.
I glance at her. “Really?”
“Mm-hm. With a few exceptions, I only have to hear or see something once.” She taps on the side of her head. “It’s in here forever.”
“Huh. Interesting.”
“Not always,” she says softly.
I assume this is because there are some things she’d rather forget, and I am struck with a sudden sympathy.
“Are there a lot of things you’d like to forget?”
“Yes,” she answers without embellishment, explanation, or excuse. Her one-word answers are maddening when, more and more, I want to know everything about her.
“Why didn’t you grow up with your parents?” I ask.
“I did,” she says, “for a while.”
“Then you moved to Hollywood. To be with your sister.”
She stops abruptly, and I turn around to face her, shrugging sheepishly at the expression on her face. Just short of pissed, she appears unnerved. “How…?”
“The internet,” I say simply.
After Noelle fell asleep last night, I spent a good hour surfing Tigín, born Teagan Ellis, in Anglesey, Wales. There was a lot of information about her career, her addiction, the many wild things she’d said and done, her whirlwind marriage, and her death. But aside from the fact that Ashley was born in Ohio, sixteen years after her sister, there wasn’t much else about my elusive housemate.
When she says nothing, I add, “Tig has a Wikipedia page.”
“I know.”
Her blue eyes look so hurt, so betrayed, I almost want to comfort her. I remember Noelle enfolding Ashley in her arms last night and my own ache to do the same.
“There’s not a whole lot aboutyou, though.”
“I’m not a celebrity,” she says, her tone accusatory.
“I just don’t know a whole lot about you,” I say, being honest with her. “We live here together. I see you every day. I mean, we share a house, for Chrissakes, but I don’t know you at all. It’s weird. It’s disconcerting. It makes me edgy.”
“Please don’t blaspheme.”
“Sorry,” I say, exhaling softly, feeling frustrated with the situation.
“You know…it’s hard to get to know someone when you ask them to stay away from you,” she says in a cool tone, but I’m relieved to note that she’s started walking again.
“Yeah, well, I’m cagey,” I admit. “My sister gave me an earful about it last night.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I see her lips twitch, and I know she’s holding back a grin.
“It’s okay. You can smile about it.”
“Noelle yelled at you?”
“Mm-hm. And she won’t talk to me today.”
