The envelope was soft, well creased. It said “Mills College” on the outside, and it was addressed to Ellie Glass, and it made absolutely no sense at all.
Congratulations on your Early Decision acceptance to Mills College.
“What is this?”
“That’s where I’m going.”
“In Oakland? This Mills here?” Nora pointed at the back door as if the college were hiding somewhere in the backyard.
“Yeah.”
“You’re going to Smith.”
“No.”
“But you applied to Smith College.” Nora was getting used to the feeling of not quite keeping up, but Mariana had the same look on her face, a frowning concentration, as if, if they just listened harder, they could make the words make sense.
“No. I applied ED to Mills instead. That’s where I’m going.”
Nora slid backward and ran into the couch behind her. She scrambled up it. Good. Now she could look down on her daughter and tell her what was really going to happen. “I haven’t saved all that money for Smith for nothing. I know we can talk to the registrar, we can explain what happened—”
“You can do whatever you want,” said Ellie evenly. “But I’m going to Mills.”
Nora could feel the hot pink of her cheeks had moved to flare over her whole face and neck. “No way. You’re going to the school you want to go to. I won’t allow you to stay here and take care of me.”
“You can’t really stop me.”
“I won’t pay for it.”
“Then I’ll get a loan.”
“That would be perfect. Start your grown-up life financially strapped to loans you’ll never be able to afford to pay.” Nora searched her mind desperately for another argument. “Well, you can’t live with me. Not when you’re supposed to be in a dorm in Massachusetts.”
Her daughter just smiled, as if she’d expected this. “I’ll just wait till you forget you said that.”
“Jesus!” Nora had a split second of admiration for this creature she and Paul had made. “You ornery little thing. You’re a horrible person.”
“I know,” said Ellie. “I got it from you.” She appeared satisfied.
Next to her, Mariana laughed and then gave another sob followed by a hiccup that sounded so much like one of Ellie’s.
“You’re crying,” said Nora in wonder. She couldn’t remember when she’d last seen Mariana cry. Maybe after their mother had died, during that twenty-four-hour period they’d stayed in bed before they started organizing the funeral. Even then, though, Nora could remember Mariana turning her face away.
Now she wasn’t doing that. Mariana just sat there, letting the teardrops roll off her cheeks to her gray silk shirt, where they darkened as if in emphasis.
“I’m still so angry at you,” said Mariana.
“I know.” And then Nora said, “You’re not a fuckup. You’ve never been one.”
Mariana shook her head. “Stop.”
“I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it all back, everything I said. I’m so sorry I hurt you. For so long.”
“You didn’t know me.” Mariana’s lower lip trembled, slick with tears.
“I’ve always known you.” From the first moment she could draw breath, she’d known no one else.
“But you didn’t see me.”
That part was true. “I’m so sorry.” Nora had thought she would cry, too, apologizing, but strangely, with Mariana weeping, she didn’t feel like she had to. “I listened to your app last night.”
“You did? You always said you couldn’t do that.”
“I thought it would be too weird to hear your voice, but it was wonderful. You’re amazing.” Nora had left the earphones in while she lay in the bed next to Harrison, her sister’s voice telling her to breathe the last thing she remembered hearing. It had felt like being embraced by light.
The doorbell rang.
All three of them jumped but none of them moved toward the door. It would be Luke, since Harrison always came in through the kitchen. Mariana laughed through her tears, rubbing her face with her hands. “Oh, god. Wait. I need something from you.”
Nora bit her bottom lip. Everything depended on this moment. She felt Ellie slide her hand into hers, and she wasn’t sure who was consoling whom. She wasn’t sure it mattered.
“I need . . . ,” Mariana finally said, her voice breaking. “I need help knowing how to turn off the waterworks. Since I started”—she pointed at her cheeks—“they just won’t stop. I’ve been doing this for weeks. Literally.”
Nora felt the light from the night before fill her again. It occupied the lining of her lungs, enveloping her soul. She knew the answer to this. She might not know much but she knew this. “You just open your arms.”
Another laugh. “That’s all?” Mariana held her arms out wide. “I can do that.”
Then Nora, with her daughter and her sister, formed a ball, holding one another so tightly that later they’d be bruised. The doorbell rang again, but the outside world could wait. For that moment, there was no one else in the world but the Glass women: occluded, battered, transparent, but beautiful.
Stronger than almost anything else in the world.