“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, looking out at Seattle. “He likes the place he’s at. They have equestrian therapy there. He says he’s thinking about retiring early and buying a horse farm. We’ve talked on the phone a little. I don’t think he wants to leave.”
“Why not?”
“He’s safe there.”
What I want to ask is: Do you talk to Tami about stuff like this?
What I want to ask is: What makes a person safe?
“She’s not in there getting food,” he says.
“No?”
“She’s calling her boyfriend in Seattle.”
I stare at him, look for some shred of feeling, but it’s trapped somewhere deep inside, and all I see is a beautiful boy who deserves so much better.
But I already know Tami has another boyfriend. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve done some research. It’s not difficult to find things out about people.
“You’ve changed,” he says.
“It’s the hair.” I’ve grown it long. It’s lightened in the sun.
“It’s more than that.”
“Maybe,” I say. Then, “Yes.” Then, “You’ve changed too.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long time. I like being quiet with Ash. I like watching the sky darken to strips of orange.
“I bet the sunset looks different on your side of the island.”
“Yes.”
“Do you still climb that tree by your house? Can you see the sunset from it?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s do that sometime, okay? Let’s climb that tree and watch the sunset.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s keep in better touch when we go to college.”
I say nothing because I can’t keep saying yes, yes, okay. I must have something to say besides what I have always said. Besides just doing what I’m told, besides just agreeing, besides just validating everyone else’s existence.
Ash sighs. His eyes are glassy and tired. He drains his drink, crunches on an ice cube.
“You’ll chip your teeth,” I say.
“What?”
“Papa always says that when I chew ice.”
“But that’s what dentists are for. There’s always someone to fix everything.”
We look at the sky a little longer. Sunsets take forever in the summer.
“None of this is real,” Ash says out of nowhere, and I look at the orange and pink reflected in the windows of the Seattle skyscrapers.
“You’re real,” I say, even though I know he’s not, that this entire conversation has taken place in my imagination.
I feel my skin tighten, an oppressive weight in my chest. I know before I even turn around that Tami has returned and Ash is gone.
“Put the food on the table,” she tells the housekeeper, who is following her, carrying a tray of tiny sandwiches and intricately sliced raw vegetables.
“Thank you,” I say.
“What are you going to do now, tip her?” Tami says, laughing.
“Anything else, Miss Tami?” the woman says.
“No.” It’s like she makes a special effort to not say “No, thank you.”
Before the housekeeper is outside hearing range, Tami says, “That accent makes them sound so stupid.”
“I think I’m going to go,” I say, standing up. The heavy feeling in my stomach is worse now. “I don’t want to be late for dinner,” I say, even though I already told Daddy I’d be home late.
“Oh,” Tami says, and for a moment I see her edges softened, her shoulders not so yoga perfect. She is disappointed, maybe even embarrassed. She is maybe a small piece of human. Maybe all people, even the Tami Butlers of the world, get lonely sometimes.
“Okay,” she says, making an effort to sound chipper. “I’ll feed your food to the fishes, then.” She rises and walks to the bar to make herself another drink. That’s two just since I’ve been here. “Seattle is so far away,” she says to no one in particular. “I wish I had my own helicopter.”
I almost say “Tell Ash I say hi,” but stop myself.
“Let’s do something wild,” she says. “I’ll think of something.”
“Okay,” I say, even though I am the girl who never does anything wild. She should know that. But maybe she knows something I don’t.
And I walk away, leaving Tami to drink alone. And just like that, I am gone, like I’d never even been there.
* * *
• • •
I drive home but I don’t go inside just yet. It’s almost dark. Daddy and Papa are probably drinking herbal tea and watching some kind of smart show, probably a documentary or critically acclaimed dramatic series. Gotami is getting her fur all over the throw blanket in the nest she’s made between them on the couch. Daddy has some dried garbanzo beans soaking in water to make homemade hummus in the morning. My sweet little family doing their sweet little family things.
I climb the giant old oak tree on the edge of the property, between the fruit trees and where the real forest starts, with thick, strong branches in all the right places. A curved one near the top is a perfect perch, with another branch behind it that serves as a backrest. I could probably fall asleep here and be safe from falling.
I listen to the bugs and night sounds, leaning back to look up at the sliver of moon peeking through the branches of the taller trees overhead. I think how this would be a perfect place for a teenager who wanted a place to get away, a place to have secrets.
I think it is time for me to start making some secrets. I’m eighteen years old and I’ve done nothing yet.
It’s almost lunchtime in Taiwan. I can’t remember if it’s today there, or tomorrow, or yesterday. Lily and I promised to call or at least text each other every day, but I have no idea what I’d even say to her right now. She’d want to know what happened at Tami’s, and I don’t want to talk about that, don’t want to tell her how disappointed I was that Ash wasn’t there, don’t want to tell her Tami says she has plans for us. I don’t want to tell her how this both terrifies and excites me.
From here, I can just see over the trees down the hill toward the shore. I can see the lights on at Ivy Avila’s house, the walls of which are almost completely glass. A dark figure is in an upstairs window, looking out at Seattle, and everything about it, objectively, is beautiful. But something about the scene makes me think of Alcatraz, another island, how the prisoners there must have felt so many years ago, behind bars with the most beautiful view in the world.