The Winters in Bloom (23 page)

“Not really,” Courtney said, and adjusted her sunglasses. She was thinking about all the private things about her own life that she’d told Amy or whoever she was.

Normally, she wasn’t the kind of person who shared anything about herself with strangers. In fact, she’d often lost the chance to be friends with people when she wouldn’t reciprocate their confessions. With Amy though, it was different, and it wasn’t just that Courtney had too much free time. Yes, she’d written to Amy at least two times a day, often three or more, but if she hadn’t felt sure that Amy was the mysterious person who was going to change her life, she wouldn’t have opened up to her. She’d trusted a total stranger because of the vague prediction of a psychic. And she didn’t even believe in psychics. She was such a fool.

A man and his collie walked by. He was probably twenty-five, but Liz elbowed Courtney in the ribs. “See the kind of person you’d meet if you lived in Center City?”

Courtney slid the investigator’s report into her purse. “Right. Because everyone who lives downtown knows each other.”

Liz ignored the sarcasm. “Do you want to get lunch? There’s a great Indian restaurant down on—”

“I’m not very hungry.” Courtney stood up.

Liz stood, too. “I was only trying to protect you, darling.”

Courtney let her mother give her a hug, because she knew Liz was trying to help. Her mother couldn’t know how much this hurt. Even Courtney wasn’t sure why it hurt so much.

Before they said good-bye, Liz made her promise not to contact “Amy” again. “I’ll delete her emails and block her address,” Courtney said, and tried not to be annoyed when her mother acted surprised that she knew how to block an email address.

When she got home, the first thing she saw on her computer was a note from Amy, asking how her meeting with her mother had gone.
I hope she didn’t depress you.
Courtney did as she promised; she deleted all the emails and blocked the address. She walked away from the laptop, but not fifteen minutes later, she sat back down again and undid the block. She had to know who had been doing this.

Amy was online, too; her Gmail address was visible, green. She’d never instant-messaged Amy before, but as soon as she said hello, Amy wrote,
you’re back. How was it?

me:
What’s your name?

Amy:
good idea to do chat

Amy:
what?

me:
I know you’re not Amy Callahan. Tell me your real name.

Amy:
It’s Hannah. I’m sorry.

Amy:
How did you find out?

Courtney was both surprised and depressed by how quickly this person had relented. She’d been hoping against hope that, despite the evidence, the woman she’d been writing was trustworthy.

me:
Save the apology. My mother hired a private investigator . . . Just tell me the reason for the pretense. I think you owe me that much.

Amy:
wow, a private investigator. I never thought of that. Did your Mother find Amy Callahan?

me:
Do you think this is a joke?

Amy:
please don’t be mad. I can explain. I didn’t mean to lie.

me:
Of course you didn’t. You just needed money.

Amy:
$$? No. I had to deactivate my real facebook page because of something that happened at school. It’s a long story.

me:
At school??

me:
How old are you?

Amy:
OK, I’m only 17, but I’ll be 18 in a few months. And I’m not in school now. I graduated, so it doesn’t matter anymore.

Amy:
I wanted to tell you before, but I was afraid you wouldn’t want to keeping emailing.

Amy:
I thought you would think I was too young to be your friend. But I’m really not. I mean, you know it’s true, right?

Amy:
I didn’t want to lose you. You’ve helped me feel a lot less alone.

Amy:
are you still there?

Courtney had dropped her face into her hands. She was reeling from the fact that she’d told some teenager about being bullied at work, about the end of her relationship with Stefan, even about her premature ovarian failure. And about Joshua. This seventeen-year-old knew more about how her baby died than most of her friends did.

me:
So you needed a new Facebook identity? That’s your claim?

Amy:
It’s true.

me:
I don’t believe it. Why did you pretend to contact my ex and his wife then?

Amy:
I wasn’t exactly pretending. I was thinking I would try to friend them, but first I wanted to know what they were like. That’s why I tried to contact people on their friend lists. To find out.

me:
Why me? I’m not on their friend lists.

Amy:
I know. Facebook recommended you. I already told you that.

Courtney thought the last sentence was laughable, given how much this person had lied to her.

me:
I have no idea why you’re doing this, but it’s cruel. Has it ever occurred to you how Kyra might feel about a stranger using her sister’s name?

Amy:
I had a good reason.

Courtney saw that Amy was typing. She was typing, too. She went back and forth, trying to explain how much this could have hurt David’s wife, but she deleted all that and decided to wait. If this person really was seventeen, she might have done this for a relatively innocent reason.

Whatever it was, it was going to be long. While Amy kept typing and typing, Courtney thought about the psychic. She started biting her thumbnail when she remembered that Evelyn Rose had only said the stranger would change her life, not that the change would be good.

Amy:
I was trying to find Amy Callahan because she’s my mother. I took her name because I thought anyone who knew her would write me back and maybe tell me where she is. Kyra is my mom’s sister, though my stepmother and my dad acted like it was killing them to admit it. When I first saw her on facebook, I mentioned her at dinner and it was like I said I was going to be buddies with Osama bin Laden. I never had the nerve to write her, but now I don’t have to. Your mom’s private investigator knows where Amy Callahan is, right? So this is really cool. Meeting you has been so lucky for me.

Courtney’s nail was bleeding but she couldn’t stop tearing it as she read what Amy had written. Even though this person had lied to her constantly, Courtney had a bad feeling this was the truth. It fit so well with a vague sense of longing that was always present in the girl’s emails. It even explained Amy’s fascination with all things mother-related, including Courtney’s tense relationship with Liz.

Of course she knew what was coming next.

Amy:
I’ve imagined her so many places, you have no idea. So where is she?

She sucked her nail and typed with one hand as she tried to figure out what to do.

me:
What’s your phone number? The landline I mean.

Amy:
It’s 816-2. Wait. This seems weird. Why didn’t you ask for my cell?

Later, she would realize that she could have simply said
I want to google that number to make sure you’re who you say you are
. But at that moment, her heart was beating so hard she couldn’t think of anything other than the truth. She wanted to call the girl’s parents. She wanted to let them tell her about her mother. Amy or Hannah or whoever she was, the person she’d been emailing for weeks, was depressed. Courtney was positive about that in the way only a fellow depression sufferer can be. She was so over her head. She felt as if Liz was right in the room, warning her not to take responsibility for a stranger’s life.

Amy:
You told me you never use a landline anymore. This doesn’t make sense.

me:
All right, give me your cell number.

At least she could talk to the girl that way, try to soften the blow. But instead of her number, Hannah typed,
What state does my mother live in?
When Courtney didn’t answer, she repeated the question.

me:
Tell me your number and we’ll talk about it.

Amy:
What state?

The cursor was blinking.

Amy:
It’s only one word.

She had just decided to lie, but before she could type
California
—

Amy:
She’s dead, isn’t she?

me:
hold on

Amy:
That’s why you don’t want to tell me on chat. Oh my God.

Courtney felt awful, but there was nothing she could say to make this easier. Hannah didn’t give her a chance anyway. Before she could type something soothing—she had no idea what—Amy’s daughter had signed off.

For the next hour or so, she paced her apartment, trying to figure out what to do next. If only she knew the girl’s phone number or at least her last name. Hannah’s emails told her nothing she didn’t already know: the location of the teenager’s IP address was in the northwest part of Missouri. There was no way to find her.

She’d just made up her mind to contact Kyra, via Sandra, when she heard the tone that announced she had mail.

Hi Courtney,

I wanted to let you know I’m OK. I never knew my mom. It was a shock, that’s all. I put a lot of energy into finding her, or at least wishing I would, so it was hard to hear. But having a mom doesn’t solve everything, as you know.

There’s one other thing I haven’t told you. When I first found Kyra on facebook, my dad told me that Kyra has always known my mom had a daughter. She even knows where I live. I don’t know why she’s never visited or sent me a card, but that’s why I haven’t reached out to her and my uncle yet.

I really am sorry I lied so much to you. You came along in my messed up life when I needed a friend so badly. I’m so thankful that you wrote me back the first time. Honestly, I spent a lot of time in the last month hoping that when I found my mother, she would be as cool and nice and funny as you are. I hope that doesn’t sound pathetic.