JODI LEE: Marlow?
MARLOW FIN: What do I think happened to Isla . . .
JODI LEE: You say that we don’t know if she is alive or dead. But you were the last one to see her. It begs the question—what do you think happened to your sister?
MARLOW FIN: I wish . . .
[Pause]
JODI LEE: What is it that you wish?
MARLOW FIN: I wish I could call her. Without thinking twice, just pick up the phone and call her and know she’ll answer. And tell me everything is okay. That’s what I wish.
But in my heart, I know that this is the reality. This is the truth.
Something terrible happened to my sister.
And I want to find out the truth as much as everyone else does. I think people forget that she is my sister. She is my family. She isn’t some face in the news. I keep my feelings and emotions close to my heart. I always have because I don’t feel the whole world deserves to see every part of me.
But I want to find out what happened to my sister. I want— [voice breaks]
JODI LEE: I see tears. This is the first time we’ve seen real emotion from you.
MARLOW FIN: [Nods] Yes.
JODI LEE: I hate to sound so crass. But I know there are people out there who are probably thinking, okay—we got some tears. But so what? She’s an actress. A terrific one, award winning. Why should anyone believe these tears?
MARLOW FIN: Frankly, I don’t give a shit if anyone does or not. Does it matter? Whether anyone else believes me? That won’t bring her back. That won’t reveal the truth.
[Swipes at eyes]
This is not the first time someone I love has disappeared on me.
JODI LEE: It’s not? Who else has disappeared from your life?
MARLOW: My mother. My real mother.
CHAPTER 30
ISLA
2005
Oliver nervously tapped the table and flapped the plastic diner menu. It was covered in foggy fingerprints, smeared ketchup, and some other unidentifiable sauce.
I hadn’t seen him since his weekend visit to the dorms my first month on campus. He had opted to stay in the Twin Cities area at one of the technical schools. He had a talent with computers and didn’t see the point in wasting time for four years listening to lectures on microeconomics or other topics he called “drivel and bullshit.”
Bluey’s was a diner in Henley, famous for its 1950s-style getup, jukeboxes, and milkshakes poured on glasses set atop the heads of its restaurant-goers. I had ordered a strawberry malt, secretly enjoying the old thrill I’d felt as a kid, while a waitress stood on a chair and poured it onto my head. One tiny splatter landed in my hair, and I licked it off.
“Oh God, the Henley fries. Remember those?”
“A little too spicy for me.”
“But the gravy and the cheese.” I practically squealed. “I’m getting too excited.” I slapped my menu down. “So, tell me. What’s new with Oliver?”
He swallowed and drummed the table again.
“Is this a nervous Oliver? I don’t think I’ve seen this before.”
He smiled weakly. “Well, there’s always a first.”
“Okay. I mentioned Henley fries and I didn’t even get a peep. Seriously . . . what’s wrong?”
His face had narrowed even more as he got older. Angular and elflike, he looked especially fragile when he pursed his lips.
“I . . . didn’t you get my instant message the other night?”
“Oh—my screen froze. I had to reboot my computer and it was taking too long so I went to bed. The internet connection is the worst on my part of campus. Why . . . what did it say?”
He looked stricken, as if I had given him bad news.
“Oliver. You okay?” I asked softly.
“No. Yes. I will be,” he said shaking his head in circles.
The truth was, I had an idea of what he wanted to say. But he deserved to speak when he wanted to. And how he wanted to.
“So . . . I haven’t really dated yet. At school this fall.”
