people’s homes always smell a little bit… I don’t know how to describe it exactly. Bleak, I guess.” Joshua said.
“Smell?” I frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re an ageist!”
“A what?” he asked, dropping the magazine he was holding and winking irresistibly.
“You know, someone who hates old people.”
“Of course not. Hey, don't get grumpy! Let's get to work. Where should we start?”
I guided him to the living room.
“I hope my mom won’t go to my room or the upstairs bathroom and see the lights in here,” I said.
“Your mother seems to be very strict.”
I don’t like to be reminded about my mother’s upbringing methods. It makes me feel weak. Besides, everyone would like to have cool parents, right? I believe that once upon a time, in another life, my mom was cool, too. She named me after the Rolling Stones song years before I was born. What’s cooler than that? That was before all the mess with the mysterious man, though. She’s much different now. I wish I had known her when she was my age. Maybe we would have been best friends, who knows.
“I guess you’re right,” I said, pushing the thought away. “Let’s start our search now.”
I took a little faded phonebook from Mrs. Wheeler’s coffee table and turned the pages until I found the letter “S”. She had three Sarahs – Sarah Meyer, Sarah Campbell, and Sarah Dobrowsky. No addresses, only phone numbers.
“How could I possibly know which one is her daughter? Or is she even one of these?” My enthusiasm suddenly subdued.
“Did she even say that she had her phone number?” Joshua asked.
“No. But even if she had it, I doubt she would keep it in her phone book,” I said. “No, she didn’t mention a phone number; she only said she had her address, or at least the address of the family that adopted her. But that was more than a half century ago.’
I collapsed on the floor. Mrs. Wheeler’s home did have an unusual smell – Joshua was right. I wondered whether it was the smell of incoming death or just a heavy dreg of memories. I looked at her belongings. For the first time, they didn’t disclose anything of Mrs. Wheeler’s alluring personality and her exciting life. Her distressed Victorian desk was just an old, battered piece of furniture. Her gilded lamp shade appeared kitschy. Even the paintings on her walls looked boring. And her pink feather slippers! Oh, her pink feather slippers made me want to run headlong! They still held the shape of her knotty feet! I couldn’t wait to get out of that house. But we still had to find Sarah’s address.
I wrote down the three phone numbers, and then we searched among the books hoping to find some clue. We looked through every one of them and found nothing but two beaded bookmarks and a recipe for key lime pie. I turned her drawers topsy-turvy, feeling like a thief. Nothing. Her lonely hairbrush made me wistful. She was away from her home for less than a day, but everything looked sadly frozen in the distant past. I even checked the bathroom, frowning at my silliness. Who keeps an address of a long lost daughter in a bathroom? It wasn’t there, of course.
“I guess that’s it,” I said after we’d ransacked the whole house. It was 10 p.m. and I felt dismayed.
Joshua suggested that we call those phone numbers the next day from his house while his father was at work.
“My mother is a ghost, anyway,” he said. “Even if she sees us, she won’t bother to pay attention to us.”
***
When I got home, my mother was sitting at the kitchen table. Taking a bite of cheese pie, she asked me something about Tanya’s boyfriend. She saw them in the shopping mall a couple of day ago. Although he seemed nice and polite, she couldn’t help thinking that Tanya was just too young to have a boyfriend. According to my mother, a girl should have her first relationship about five minutes before menopause.
“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t say that a girl your age shouldn’t go
“Smell?” I frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re an ageist!”
“A what?” he asked, dropping the magazine he was holding and winking irresistibly.
“You know, someone who hates old people.”
“Of course not. Hey, don't get grumpy! Let's get to work. Where should we start?”
I guided him to the living room.
“I hope my mom won’t go to my room or the upstairs bathroom and see the lights in here,” I said.
“Your mother seems to be very strict.”
I don’t like to be reminded about my mother’s upbringing methods. It makes me feel weak. Besides, everyone would like to have cool parents, right? I believe that once upon a time, in another life, my mom was cool, too. She named me after the Rolling Stones song years before I was born. What’s cooler than that? That was before all the mess with the mysterious man, though. She’s much different now. I wish I had known her when she was my age. Maybe we would have been best friends, who knows.
“I guess you’re right,” I said, pushing the thought away. “Let’s start our search now.”
I took a little faded phonebook from Mrs. Wheeler’s coffee table and turned the pages until I found the letter “S”. She had three Sarahs – Sarah Meyer, Sarah Campbell, and Sarah Dobrowsky. No addresses, only phone numbers.
“How could I possibly know which one is her daughter? Or is she even one of these?” My enthusiasm suddenly subdued.
“Did she even say that she had her phone number?” Joshua asked.
“No. But even if she had it, I doubt she would keep it in her phone book,” I said. “No, she didn’t mention a phone number; she only said she had her address, or at least the address of the family that adopted her. But that was more than a half century ago.’
I collapsed on the floor. Mrs. Wheeler’s home did have an unusual smell – Joshua was right. I wondered whether it was the smell of incoming death or just a heavy dreg of memories. I looked at her belongings. For the first time, they didn’t disclose anything of Mrs. Wheeler’s alluring personality and her exciting life. Her distressed Victorian desk was just an old, battered piece of furniture. Her gilded lamp shade appeared kitschy. Even the paintings on her walls looked boring. And her pink feather slippers! Oh, her pink feather slippers made me want to run headlong! They still held the shape of her knotty feet! I couldn’t wait to get out of that house. But we still had to find Sarah’s address.
I wrote down the three phone numbers, and then we searched among the books hoping to find some clue. We looked through every one of them and found nothing but two beaded bookmarks and a recipe for key lime pie. I turned her drawers topsy-turvy, feeling like a thief. Nothing. Her lonely hairbrush made me wistful. She was away from her home for less than a day, but everything looked sadly frozen in the distant past. I even checked the bathroom, frowning at my silliness. Who keeps an address of a long lost daughter in a bathroom? It wasn’t there, of course.
“I guess that’s it,” I said after we’d ransacked the whole house. It was 10 p.m. and I felt dismayed.
Joshua suggested that we call those phone numbers the next day from his house while his father was at work.
“My mother is a ghost, anyway,” he said. “Even if she sees us, she won’t bother to pay attention to us.”
***
When I got home, my mother was sitting at the kitchen table. Taking a bite of cheese pie, she asked me something about Tanya’s boyfriend. She saw them in the shopping mall a couple of day ago. Although he seemed nice and polite, she couldn’t help thinking that Tanya was just too young to have a boyfriend. According to my mother, a girl should have her first relationship about five minutes before menopause.
“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t say that a girl your age shouldn’t go
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