Chapter 26-2
"It is," said Sparrow softly. "Bullshit. What are you doing with your life that's so great?" Ashlyn turned away, and Sparrow felt her anguish rising. It was true, of course. Sparrow wasn't doing anything with her allotted time, and at this rate, she'd be leaving a legacy of a million poured beers and a thousand nights of tears. But it wasn't fair that someone as young as Ashlyn had been drained of her hope for the future. If I had a thousand dollars, I'd pay her bond for an apartment. If I had ten thousand, I'd enrol her in a course. As it was, Sparrow had ten bucks, which she handed over and didn't ask for change. It wasn't enough, but it was what she had to give. Just behind Ashlyn, another homeless lady sat at a little table. She could have been as young as fifty or as old as ninety; there was simply no way to tell under the layers of grime. Sparrow asked, "Who's that?" "Oh, that's Gayle, a friend from the shelter. She tells fortunes for five bucks." Ashlyn tilted her head at Sparrow in challenge. "You wanna try?" Not wanting to ruin the fragile truce between them, Sparrow nodded. "Okay, sure." She handed over the money and sat opposite the fortune teller, her expectations low. "Hello, Gayle. I'd like my fortune, please." The older woman barely glanced up, staring instead at a strand of coloured beads in her hands. "You're lost." "No, I'm Ali," she quipped, trying to make a small joke. It fell flat. Gayle wrapped the jade beads tighter around her fingers. "You're lost. The angels told me so." "Angels?" Sparrow wasn't sure if she believed in angelic beings or not. She'd never met one, but then again, Sparrow had never met Obama either, and he existed. "Can you see them now?" asked Sparrow, smiling a little. "There's one next to you." Gayle gazed vacantly at a space to the right of Sparrow's shoulder. "They're keeping an eye on you." Sparrow's right side tingled. "Oh, really?" "They say go home." I don't know where that is. Sparrow's eyes prickled with tears. Home had been Haven. Now, the word home only made her think of Thomas. She stood, frustrated and preparing to go. "Okay, tell the angels thanks for that." "Reply to the email. Be found." "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Sparrow leaned over the table, unsure if she'd heard right, but the old woman had fallen asleep, her chin resting on her filthy sweater. Dizziness swamped Sparrow and she gripped the plastic corners of the table for balance. Ashlyn's voice sounded from behind her. "Yeah, sorry. I should have warned you Gayle is nuts. No refunds." "I have to go." Without looking at Ashlyn, she staggered away unevenly, as though the ground had shifted underneath her. For all Sparrow's open-mindedness, she'd never really known where she stood on the topic of god or a higher power, but right now she felt as though somebody was playing with the universe around her. Looking up, she saw she was outside the internet café, that her feet had led her there by themselves. As she wavered on the threshold, she thought about the last few weeks, about money, and love, and forgiveness, and change. Pushing inside, she walked straight to her favourite computer in the corner. With total clarity and a healthy dose of fear, Sparrow clicked open her emails, almost ready to be found. Ali, I had a bad week this week. I'm doing my best, but I'd do better with you. I don't want to make you feel bad. Let's talk about money instead. You know when you take a flight, and they say you have to fix your own oxygen mask before you help others? That's the way I think about money. If I'm broke, I can't possibly help anyone else - I'm like an idiot, wandering around the plane, gasping for oxygen but trying to be useful until I pass out and block the aisle But if I have money, I can make choices. I can do good, look after the people I love, serve my community. I know there are people who would disagree with me, and say that being rich is just being part of a broken system, but I would tell them that me being poor doesn't help anybody either. I still don't know what I want my legacy to be, but I know who I want to help me build it: you. Sparrow, I love you. Whatever you're going through, I want to help you with it. Stop punishing yourself for who you used to be, because who you are right now is who I love. You are my goddess. I think you've been worried you'll end up hurting me somehow. Let me tell you - I'm tough, Ali. The only way you can hurt me is by staying vanished. Do you know that pain, of having someone you love disappear? She did know, and it still cut through her, a great searing pain that never seemed to ease. That she might be causing Thomas that same agony had never occurred to her. Still selfish, still stupid. Please, Ali. Be with me, and we'll put our oxygen masks on together. Love, Thomas This time, she went as far as clicking reply and pulling up a blank email. But the white screen blinked at her, like an all-seeing eye and the pressure clutched at her throat. What do I say? I'm sorry I'm so messed up, sorry that I keep making the same mistakes over and over again, sorry that I can't forgive myself because I ruined someone's life a long time ago? She wanted to make Thomas' week better. She hated the tone in his words that spoke to her of weary, dark places. But I'm not ready. I need more time. Leaving the café, Sparrow sent Will a text, full of bright words about exciting bands and some iPhone game all the girls at work had been talking about. Why was it so much easier to communicate with a ten year old than with the man she loved?