Page 19 of When People Leave

When Morgan was in fourth grade, she had asked Carla if any of them resembled their father. Carla didn’t answer, but the look on her face made Morgan sorry she’d asked.

As if they were out-of-sync jack-in-the-boxes, the sisters popped up off the bed one by one and began searching the room.

Abby opened the dresser drawers while Charlie looked in the bathroom.

When Morgan went into the walk-in closet, she bathed in the faint scent of her mother’s perfume.

Dolce Morgan continued, “Mom told me that the house was built in the early nineteen hundreds, but four years ago, Ginny restored it. Wait until you see the gorgeous view of the Hollywood sign.”

“I can’t believe a friend of Mom’s lives here,” Abby said.

“Ginny’s father was a famous sports announcer and left the house to her in his will.”

“Wow, I wish we had a father like that,” Abby said.

“I wish we had any father,” Charlie said.

They walked up to the oversized pine doors with beveled glass in the center.

Morgan raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before her hand met the wood.

Ginny threw her arms around Morgan, who stepped happily into them.

The hug was warm, tight and loving. Morgan looked up at the sky.

Mom, thank you for at least leaving us Ginny.

She’s not you, but she’s here for us, and that helps .

“I’m so glad to see you all again,” Ginny said, hugging Charlie and Abby. “Please come in.”

Even with its stately columns and twelve-foot-high ceilings, the interior of Ginny’s house felt cozy. She led them into the dining room.

“Please sit,” Ginny said, pointing to the long glass table, which could have seated a small village. The table was adorned with bagels, and cream cheese, deviled eggs, and a platter of potato pancakes.

Morgan caught a whiff of the scent of garlic bagels, which took her back to her childhood and a special time that she and her sisters had shared with her mother.

Every New Year’s Day, Carla would set up four TV trays and pass around bagels, cream cheese, and deviled eggs.

Then they’d watch the Rose Parade while they ate.

After each of the girls turned twelve, Carla would pour a tiny bit of champagne into their orange juice glass, and they’d toast to the new year.

When Abby turned twelve and had her first mimosa, she acted drunk and wouldn’t stop giggling. It wasn’t until years later that Carla confessed that she had never actually given them champagne. It was only sparkling apple cider.

“It’s so nice of you to have us over,” Charlie said to Ginny then pointed to the table. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It’s nothing. I’d do anything for you three.”

“Thank you, we’re happy to be here,” Morgan said.

“I know how hard this has been for you guys and how much you miss your mom. I miss her so much, too,” Ginny said, then stood back up. “Oh, I forgot the orange juice.” Ginny ran off to the kitchen, where Morgan saw her grab a tissue and wipe her eyes.

When Ginny came back in, her mascara had slightly smudged. She poured orange juice into each of their glasses.

“Morgan said you have some questions for me,” Ginny said, “but as close as your mother and I were, there were a lot of things she wouldn’t talk to me about.”

“Is one of them our father?” Abby asked.

“Yes, the only thing she told me about him was how they met,” Ginny said.

“That’s pretty much the only thing she ever told us, too,” Abby said.

“Did you know she got married again?” Morgan asked.

“That wasn’t a real marriage. I met him once. He’s a nice guy,” Ginny said.

“We just met him, too,” Abby said.

“Carla told you about him? She told me she didn’t want you all to find out; she thought you would think he took advantage of her,” Ginny said.

“She didn’t tell us. We found his name in her will,” Charlie said.

“I’m not surprised, Carla was always generous.”

Morgan reached across the table for the water pitcher and poured herself a glass. “Was my mom depressed about anything?” Morgan asked, taking a sip.

“Not that I could tell. And I talked to her a few days before she…she…” Ginny’s voice trailed off, and her hand began to shake.

Morgan put her hand on top of Ginny’s. Ginny took a breath, then continued.

“Your mom seemed fine other than being stressed that the video of her saving her neighbor was all over the internet. She couldn’t stand that the media had camped out in front of her house. ”

“There’s no way she’d kill herself because she didn’t want to go outside for a few days,” Abby said, looking at her sisters.

“I know,” Ginny said. “Carla had to know the attention would be over as quickly as it started,” Ginny said, then stood up again. “Oh, now I forgot the coffee. Where is my mind today?” She went back into the kitchen.

Morgan called out toward the kitchen. “Was our mom about to go on a trip somewhere?”

“Not that I know of. Why?” Ginny asked, pouring coffee into all the mugs.

Morgan blew on the steam that was rising from her cup. She told Ginny about the money they found in Carla’s closet, how the suitcases were packed, and how her passport was inside.

“That’s strange,” Ginny said, wrinkling her forehead. “Maybe she thought she’d go somewhere to get away from all the attention.”

“Why wouldn’t she have told us?” Morgan said.

“It could’ve been a spur-of-the-moment decision,” Ginny said.

“I guess, but where would she have gone that she’d take both winter and summer clothes?” Charlie asked.

“I have no idea—she could’ve been stopping in New York on her way to someplace warm,” Ginny said, her eyebrows scrunched together like two caterpillars head-butting each other.

“Mom hated New York,” Morgan said more passionately than she intended.

“But that’s where she grew up,” Ginny said.

Morgan, Charlie, and Abby stared at Ginny as if she had two heads and had turned into a dragon.

“Mom grew up in Los Angeles,” Abby said.

“No, she didn’t. Your mom was born in New York. After she graduated high school, she went to Brooklyn College,” Ginny said.

“That can’t be right. She told us she’d only been to New York once and hated it,” Charlie said.

“I didn’t get the feeling she had a great childhood there, but Brooklyn is also where she met your father,” Ginny said. “Carla didn’t move to Los Angeles until she filed for divorce from your dad.”

“I lived in New York?” Morgan said. She felt nauseous and pushed her plate away from her. She couldn’t grasp this information any more than she could have held on to a tiny fluttering butterfly.

“You and Charlie lived there when you were first born,” she said to Morgan. “Abby was born in Los Angeles.”

“But Mom told us she went to UCLA. She took us on a tour of the school and said how proud she was to have graduated from such a renowned university,” Charlie said.

“And remember how she pointed out that older man with the long, scraggly beard who was walking toward Royce Hall?” Morgan said. “She said he was her Microeconomics professor and almost failed her.”

“How could she have known how good the hot chocolate was at the coffeehouse on campus,” Abby said.

“Well, now we know why she said she’d thrown out her diploma after ‘accidentally’ spilling red wine all over it,” Morgan said.

“This is crazy,” Charlie said.

“Why would Mom lie about all that?” Abby asked.

“I don’t know.” Ginny rubbed her hands together and shook her head.

The day had barely started, yet Morgan’s world had been shaken up even more. When they got back to Carla’s house, Morgan pulled out her list of AA meetings, grabbed her keys, and headed out the door.