“Yes, you’ve come home for your dad.” Bob smiled. “It’s hard watching him lose his memories. Gavin’s been a good friend to me. You’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“You’re already helping by adding to this memory book, by helping us gather as many of his days as we can in one place.”

Bob knotted his hands in a prayer clasp and set them on the table. “It’s a worthy goal. And I’m sure what you gather will mean something to him, but we all have private memories, ones we share with only a few people if anyone at all. And what of the memories we shared only with those who are already gone? For your dad, those will be lost forever.” He glanced at the phone on his waistband, which was buzzing. “I must go now, Lena. But please let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will. And thanks so much.” She paused and then added, “Half-light—allowing in only enough light to see what one wants to expose.”

“Exactly.” He held his phone to his ear and walked briskly from the café, leaving Colleen with his words that hinted at something about her dad she could barely see out of the corner of her eye.

Chapter Fourteen

“Sure, everything is ending,” Jules said, “but not yet.”

Jennifer Egan, A Visit from the Goon Squad

Birdsong woke Colleen and for a moment she was confused—in New York her windows closed against all noise. But she’d woken up, of course, in South Carolina. She rolled over and opened one eye to spy her childhood bedroom, the one she’d shared with Hallie, the one her mother had left unchanged once the girls had become estranged. A bulletin board was covered with swim team ribbons and class photos and dried flowers from dances already forgotten. On the white wooden desk they’d once shared was a Ball jar full of pencils, pens and Magic Markers that were most likely dried out. Watersend Cougars’ red and white pom-poms hung from one side of the dresser mirror. Keeping everything intact had been part of Elizabeth’s attempt to bring the girls back together, a kind of magical spell that their mother believed would inspire reconciliation; if she kept their things together, she could bring their hearts together, too.

She’d been wrong.

But she’d never given up. Every single phone call ended with Mother asking, “Have you called your sister?” and Colleen answering, “Of course not, Mother.” This question had been asked over and over in various forms and each time neither Mother nor Colleen would bend.

“Will you at least try?” Mother would ask. “For me? For Dad?”

“I will do anything for you and Dad. Anything in all the world but that.”

“You can’t stay mad at her forever, Lena.”