Silence.
“We’re adults, Myron. You can sleep with whomever you wish.”
“I don’t want to sleep with anyone else.”
“So why are you asking me this right now?”
“Because, well, before? I don’t, uh, think very clearly when I’m in a state of, you know…” He sort of gestured. Ali rolled her eyes.
“Men. No, I mean, why tonight. Why did you ask about exclusivity tonight?”
He debated what to say. He was all for honesty, but did he really want to get into Jessica’s visit? “Just clarifying where we stand.”
Footsteps suddenly began to pound down the stairs.
“Mom!”
It was Erin. A door — that first of two doors — banged open.
Myron and Ali moved with a speed that would intimidate NASCAR. Their clothes were on, but like a couple of teenagers, they made sure everything was fastened and tucked in by the time the second doorknob began to turn. Myron jumped to the other side of the couch as Erin threw open the door. They both tried to wipe the look of guilt off their faces with mixed results.
Erin burst into the room. She looked at Myron. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Ali finished adjusting her shirt. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“You better come quick,” Erin said.
“Why, what’s up?”
“I was on the computer, instant messaging with my friends. And just now — I mean, like thirty seconds ago — Aimee Biel signed on and said hello to me.”
CHAPTER 45
They all hurried up to Erin’s room.
Myron took the stairs three at a time. The house shook. He didn’t much care. The first thing that struck him when he entered the bedroom was how much it reminded him of Aimee’s. The guitars, the photographs in the mirror, the computer on the desk. The colors were different, there were more pillows and stuffed animals, but you would have no doubt that both rooms belonged to high school girls with much in common.
Myron headed to the computer. Erin came in behind him, Ali after her. Erin sat at the computer and pointed to a word:
GuitarlovurCHC.
“CHC stands for Crazy Hat Care,” Erin said, “the name of the band we were forming.”
Myron said, “Ask Aimee where she is.”
Erin typed: WHERE ARE YOU? Then she hit the return button.
Ten seconds passed. Myron noticed the icon on Aimee’s profile. The band Green Day. Her wallpaper was for the New York Rangers. When she typed back a sliver of her “buddy sound,” a song from Usher, came through the speakers:
Myron said, “Tell her that her parents are upset. That she should call them.”
Erin typed: YOUR PARENTS ARE FREAKING OUT. YOU NEED TO CALL THEM.
Myron thought how to approach this. “Tell her I’m here.”
Erin typed: MYRON IS HERE.
Long pause. The cursor blinked.
SORRY. HE’S HERE. NEXT TO ME.
Myron thought about it. “Erin, ask her something only she would know.”
“Like what?”
“You guys have private talks, right? Share secrets?”
“Sure.”
“I’m not convinced it’s Aimee. Ask her something only you and she would know.”
Erin thought a moment. Then she typed: WHAT IS THE NAME OF THE BOY I HAVE A CRUSH ON?
The cursor blinked. She wasn’t going to answer. Myron was pretty sure about that. Then GuitarlovurCHC typed:
Myron said, “Insist on a name.”
“Already on it,” Erin said. She typed: WHAT’S HIS NAME?
Erin did not need prompting: YOU’RE NOT AIMEE. AIMEE WOULD KNOW THE NAME.
Long pause. The longest yet. Myron looked back at Ali. Her eyes were on the screen. Myron could hear his own breathing in his ears, as if he’d stuck seashells on them. Then finally an answer came:
The screen name vanished. GuitarLovurCHC was gone.
For a moment, no one moved. Myron and Ali had their eyes on Erin. She stiffened.
“Erin?”
Something happened to her face. A quiet quake in the corner of her lip. It spread.
“Oh God,” Erin said.
“What is it?”
“Who the hell is Mark Cooper?”
“Was it Aimee or not?”
Erin nodded. “It was Aimee. But…”
Her tone made the room drop ten degrees.
“But what?” Myron said.
“Mark Cooper is not the boy I have a crush on.”
Myron and Ali both looked confused.
Ali said, “Then who is he?”
Erin swallowed. She looked back, first at Myron, then her mother. “Mark Cooper was this creepy guy who went to my summer camp. I told Aimee about him. He used to follow some of us around with this awful leer, you know. Whenever he’d walk by, we would laugh and whisper to one another… ” Her voice dropped off, came back, but lower now. “We’d whisper, ‘Trouble.’ ”
They all watched the monitor now, all hoping that screen name would pop up again. But nothing happened. Aimee did not reappear. She had delivered her message. And now, once again, she was gone.
CHAPTER 46
Claire was on the phone in seconds. She dialed Myron’s cell. When he answered, she said, “Aimee was just online! Two of her friends called!”
