Page 48 of The Art of Vanishing

Jean

When I finally found her, Odette was sitting in the grass, her skirts ballooned out around her, the journal nestled open in the tulle.

Slowly, she leafed through the pages, soaking in each one.

She lifted it to her nose and took a deep inhale, lying back on the gentle hill and clutching it to her chest.

“You know,” I said, “there are a lot of people looking for that thing.” I myself was shocked to see it again, and in Odette’s hands at that. Suddenly, it all made sense.

“Oh, really?” she said, unbothered. “Let them keep looking. Who would have known so many people would care so much about a silly little diary I kept in my twenties?”

I lowered myself next to her, staring out at the horizon. “Did you recognize from the start that it was yours?”

“I paid little attention to all of the hubbub before it was delivered to the museum; it didn’t occur to me that I could have risen through the ranks to ‘anonymous author.’ But as soon as I read that first page…

I never knew what happened to it, of course.

I kept it just before I became this.” She gestured to her painted self.

“I’d only filled in about half of it in that part of my life.

Who knew I would have traveled all this way, had a family, that people would have wanted to pass this part of me down.

” Her tone was wistful, the magic of the moment was infectious.

“It’s so strange—it makes you wonder who else might have passed through these rooms, who we never even knew to look out for.

They all seem so anonymous out there.” She closed the journal and sat up, setting it to one side and turning to look at me.

“I know she’s gone; I’m so sorry, Jean.”

“It’s okay, it wasn’t meant to be forever.

That’s not the way of her world.” If I was honest with myself, the cracks had started to show even before the final wall went up between us.

We had been living the impossible. As Claire’s world became clearer to me, I understood how unsustainable our love story was.

Odette gave me a friendly pat on the back, tapping gently between my shoulders before folding her hands in her lap. “What are you going to do now?”

“Whatever I did before? Keep drifting along in this weird way of existence? I don’t know what else there is.”

Odette was quiet for a moment, but then she said, “I have an idea of something you can do.”

“Oh?” I wasn’t sure what was coming next, or if I was ready for it. I might have convinced myself I was okay, but I was still grieving the end of this era. “And what’s that?”

“I think you should write this all down.”

“What?” I laughed through my lack of comprehension. “But I’m not a writer.”

“How do you know that? You have no idea what you became. You’re not a writer yet .

Come on, I bet there’s some paper and a pen somewhere around here that you could borrow.

You can write it all down, while it’s still fresh, and then you’ll give me something to read when I’m done with my walk down memory lane.

” She patted the journal. “I can add it to my rotation.”

“What if I’m no good?” I rubbed the back of my neck. I’d never tried anything like that, I didn’t know if I could hack it.

“Jean, I’ve read every book in this place and most of them are really bad.

And even then, I enjoyed reading them. I won’t care if it’s not very good.

I’ll love it anyway. And if you hate it, we don’t have to tell anyone else.

It can be just for us. Like this is just between us, right? ” She squeezed the diary to her chest.

“Of course it is. That’s yours, it belongs to you.”

“You’ve been a real friend, kid, over the last century.”

“You too, Odette.” Her confidence in me was contagious; I felt my mind changing.

“I’ll give it a go, our project, as long as you’ll be honest with me if it’s complete bollocks.

Anything will be more interesting than reading the same pages of that blasted book over and over again.

” I got to my feet, and she reached one arm up to me.

I pulled her up to stand, and she fluffed her skirts back into place.

“Well, I guess this is where we part. You’ll come and find me soon?” she asked.

“I will.” I turned to go, before something struck me. It had been so natural to see her with it, I hadn’t questioned it when I first happened upon her. “Hey, how did you end up with that?”

“Claire gave it to me.”

I nearly choked on my own tongue. “She…what?”

“In the madness of the alarm, those two thieves got all tangled up. Claire grabbed it when she left with her cart that day. She snuck it out of the museum and back in the next night. She sought me out before she left. It was incredibly brave and I am in her debt.”

“How did she know? How on earth did she know it was yours?” I was shocked. There was something I’d missed all along.

“I guess she’s a close reader. She saw a part of herself in me too. She saved it all. Because of her, I get to read to the end of my own story.” She looked at me with kindness in her eyes. “We were lucky to know her, weren’t we?”

“We really were,” I said. I could feel a tear hot in the corner of my eye.

“Will we ever see her again?” Odette mused. “At least I’ll be looking now. After all, you never know who’s out there.”

“Or what’s in here,” I said. “Certainly no one will ever find that journal now. It’s vanished from their world. I wonder how long they’ll look for it?”

“Or if they’ll ever catch the thieves who attempted to take it with them?” she pondered. “Unlikely, since they never even possessed what everyone thinks they stole.”

With that, she tucked it safely in her pocket and left. I realized we were on the very bluff where I’d taken Claire many months ago. I sent a wish out toward the ocean, hoping that wherever she was now, she’d feel it somehow.