The Silver Bough Read Free

Losing her was like losing her soul or half her brain, Ashley thought despairingly. She couldn’t believe she was still alive, left alone. Nothing made sense anymore. But she remembered Freya’s comment about having a project, so she went back to school two days after the funeral, because at least there she would have something to do. Teachers were understanding, everyone was sympathetic, but without Freya she was just the ghost of herself. She experimented a bit with drugs and sex, trying to jump-start her life. When that failed, she threw herself into schoolwork, attended every class and lecture, took copious notes, did extra reading, and turned in every assignment on time. She also acquired a steady boyfriend, Brandon, to occupy the hours when she couldn’t work; but well before the end of the semester she knew it wasn’t working, that it couldn’t work. More than willpower was required. She needed a change.
    On the last day of classes, she’d arranged to meet Brandon at four o’clock in the sandwich bar—it was a crummy little place with few customers except at lunchtime, conveniently located halfway between her place and his. He was resigned, if not happily, to the fact that they’d be spending the summer apart, and wanted to talk about getting together over the Fourth of July weekend.
    She ignored this opening gambit, and plunged in with her news without pausing for a sip of her usual Diet Coke.
    “I’m not coming back to school in the fall. I can’t take business classes anymore; I just can’t think in those terms. Nobody knows what’s going to happen; I always thought I could be practical and plan things out, but it’s impossible. How can I take five-year plans seriously when I don’t know what’s going to happen in five years? When nobody knows?”
    He looked pained. “Ash, it’s just
work.
You can’t take it personally. It’s not meant to be applied to your personal life.”
    “I
want
to take it personally. I want to learn something that matters to me.”
    “Like what?”
    How could he not know? “Art.”
    He looked even more pained. “Drawing pictures? Painting?”
    “I’ve always liked…”
    “I know that,” he jumped in. “Your drawings are good. But I thought it was more like a hobby. You never said anything about doing it professionally. Can you make a living from drawing?”
    She shrugged impatiently. She wasn’t ready for a big discussion about career possibilities, but it was her own fault for starting it. “I like
looking
at art, too, so maybe I should learn more about it. I could see myself maybe working in a gallery or something.” She imagined spending her days surrounded by beauty, saw herself moving confidently through a large, well-lit space, the white walls hung with paintings.
    “You want to be an art major?” His eyes flickered; she imagined him consulting a mental database of all the colleges in the area. “Where would you go for that? SMU? That’s good, I think, but pricey. Could your parents afford it? Could you get in there?”
    “I don’t know.” Majoring in art was something she’d decided against in high school, on practical grounds. Leaving aside the whole question of talent (if she could), she didn’t have the right temperament for an artist
or
a teacher. There were other possibilities, which she’d discussed with Freya, but she felt no need to rehearse them with him. “I need time to think. That’s why I’m going to take a year off. I can get a job and live at home.”
    “Thanks for telling me.”
    “What do you mean? I
am
telling you.”
    “But you made up your mind without talking to me.”
    “I’m sorry.” She sighed heavily, bored and guilty. “But it’s my life, my problem, and I have to solve it.”
    “I thought I was part of your life.”
    There was nothing she could say to that. He
had
been a part of her life for almost four months, but really only in the way that a bandage or a wound dressing is after a major accident. It