Two Truths and a Lie(70)

But then, that was Melanie. She never understood how to choose just one emoji to make her point.





52.





Alexa


Alexa dreamed that she was inside the Pink House. She had passed this house on the way to Plum Island a million times, as a passenger, as a driver, on a bike, once on foot, but she had given very little thought to it. All she knew was that it was widely rumored to be a spite house, built in the 1920s by a man for his ex-wife who demanded a replica of their home as part of their divorce settlement. He put it in the middle of a salt marsh—that was the spite part.

Wasn’t it just like a guy, to do something like that for no freaking reason other than that he could?

As far as Alexa was aware, nobody she knew had ever been inside the Pink House, though people had speculated far and wide about what the interior looked like.

The dream was shot like a movie, so that first she saw the outside of the Pink House, with the narrow stone path leading up to it. The camera zoomed in on a close-up of the chipped pink paint, the sign that said government property—no trespassing! Birds nested in the cupola.

Then the dream Google-earthed her into the center of the house, and up a rickety staircase to a bedroom. The bedroom was decorated with an ornate armoire, a dusty oval full-length mirror and a four-poster bed. There was a woman lying in bed, or a girl. She was dressed in a cobwebby wedding dress. Miss Havisham?

The camera cut again, and now Alexa was looking down at the wedding dress. She was Miss Havisham. Left at the altar? She fingered the heavy silk. She looked at her arms, which were covered by lace. This couldn’t really be happening. Alexa would never, ever choose a long-sleeved wedding dress.

Also, who would leave Alexa Thornhill at the altar? Please.

There came a gentle rapping on the door to the bedroom, and before Alexa could say, “Come in,” the door opened and a face poked around the doorway. It was Cam. He surveyed the room, grinning. He said, “I need to get you out of here, Alexa. This place is lousy with asbestos, you know.”

“How do you know that?” asked Alexa.

“It’s what I wrote my college essay about,” said Cam. “It’s what got me into St. Mike’s.”

“This house?”

“Yes. This house is iconic. This house has inspired the imaginations of so many people.”

In the dream, this all seemed completely plausible. In the dream, this was an acceptable topic for a college essay.

Cam was still talking. “Did you know, for example, that because this house is owned by the Parker River Wildlife Refuge, which is part of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, it can’t be sold for money, only traded for other property? Did you know that snowy owls and hawks nest in the cupola? No? You didn’t? Did you know that it was fully occupied until the early two thousands even though it’s never had running water?” Alexa shook her head. She didn’t know any of this.

“Well, Alexa,” said Cam. “Let’s get you out of here.” He held out his hand to Alexa, and she took it. She swung one foot over the edge of the bed, and then the other. She was barefoot, and her toes were painted a pearly pink. (Despite the long-sleeved wedding dress, her wedding shoes must have been open-toed.) There was a mirror above the heavy dark dresser opposite the bed, and she let go of Cam’s hand and approached it with trepidation. She cleaned the dust off the mirror with the sleeve of her wedding dress. (The sleeves had come in handy after all.) She expected to see that she had aged years or maybe decades. She took a deep breath before looking.

There were cobwebs in her hair, but otherwise she looked exactly the same. This was an enormous relief. She turned to Cam and asked, “Why’d you leave me at the altar?”

“Leave you?”

“Yes.” She gestured to her wedding dress.

“I didn’t leave you.”

“You didn’t? Who did?”

“You left me.”

“I did?”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That’s so rude. I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, I think you did,” said Cam. “I’m really pretty sure that you did.”

“Are you mad?”

“Of course not. It’s not a big deal. Just a silly wedding!” He took her hand again and led her out of the bedroom and toward the landing.

They were about to walk down the stairs when suddenly the staircase crumbled beneath them, turning to pieces of dust and rubble.

“Darn it,” said Cam pleasantly. “Sorry about that, Alexa. I was trying to get you out before that happened. Oh well! I guess you can’t win them all.”

From the stair landing they could see down to the front door. Out of nowhere came a sharp series of raps on the door.

“Who could that be?” Alexa asked Cam.

“Oh, it’s probably the bad men.”

“The who?”

“The bad men,” he said. He turned toward her and smiled, but there were no teeth in his mouth. “The bad men are coming for you,” he said. “I told them you’d probably be here.”

She woke sweating, clutching Stock Investing for Dummies.





53.





Rebecca


Rebecca peeled her eyes from the screen. Her daughter was a . . . YouTube personality? She perused the comments following the three videos she had watched. On each video there were many, many comments—dozens! Hundreds! One of the first comments on each video came from someone called jt76. Love how succinct this is! Also: Great explanation of balancing risk and reward. You’re so talented!