She started writing again. "'In her gentle, loving, caring, caressing, hands, in hands that held, that healed, that hoped-'" Oh, come on, thought Tristan.
"Shut up," Beth answered him.
"What?" said Ivy, her eyes opening wide.
"You're glowing."
Everyone turned to look at Philip, who was standing outside Ivy's door.
"You're glowing, Beth," Philip said.
Ivy turned away. "Philip, I told you I don't want to hear any more about that."
"About me glowing?" Beth asked.
"He's into this angel stuff," Ivy explained. "He claims he sees colors and things, and thinks they're angels. I can't stand it anymore! I don't want to hear it anymore! How many times do I have to tell you that?"
Hearing her words, Tristan lost heart. His effort had taken him well past exhaustion; hope was all that had been sustaining him. Now that was gone.
Beth jerked her head, and he was outside of her once more. Philip kept his eyes on Tristan, following him as he joined Lacey.
"Gee," said Suzanne, winking at Beth, "I wonder where Philip learned about angels."
"They've helped you in the past, Ivy," Beth said gently. "Why can't they help him now?"
"They didn't help me!" Ivy exclaimed. "If angels were real, if angels were our guardians, Tristan would be alive! But he's gone. How can I still believe in angels?"
Her hands were curled into two tight fists. The stormy look in her eyes had become an intense green, burning with certainty, the certainty that there were no angels.
Tristan felt as if he were dying all over again.
Suzanne looked at Beth and shrugged. Philip said nothing. Tristan saw that familiar set in his jaw.
"He's a stubborn little bugger," Lacey remarked.
Tristan nodded. Philip was still believing. Tristan let himself hope just a little.
Then Ivy pulled a plastic bag out of her trash can. She started clearing off her shelves of angels.
"Ivy, no!"
But his words wouldn't stop her.
Philip tugged on her arm. "Can I have them?"
She ignored him.
"Can I have them, Ivy?"
Tristan heard the glass breaking inside the bag. Her hand moved steadily, relentlessly down the line, but she hadn't touched Tony or the water angel yet.
"Please, Ivy."
At last she stopped. "All right. You can have them," she said, "but you have to promise me, Philip, that you will never speak to me about angels again."
Philip looked up thoughtfully at the last two angels. "Okay. But what if-" "No," she said firmly. "That's the deal.' He carefully took down Tony and the water angel. "I promise."
Tristan's heart sank.
When Philip had left, Ivy said, "It's getting late. The others will be here soon. I'd better change."
"I'll help you pick out something," Suzanne said.
"No. Go on down. I'll be with you in a few minutes."
"But you know how I like to pick out clothes for you-" "We're going," Beth said, pushing Suzanne toward the door. "Take all the time you want, Ivy. If the guys get here, we'll stall." She pulled the door closed behind Suzanne.
Ivy looked across her room at the photograph of Tristan. She stood as still as a statue, tears running down her cheeks.
Lacey said softly, "Tristan, you need to rest now. There's nothing you can do until you rest."
But he could not leave Ivy. He put his arms around her. She slipped through him and moved toward the bureau, taking the picture in her hands. He wrapped her in his arms again, but she only cried harder.
Then Ella was set lightly on the bureau top. Lacey's hands had done it. The cat rubbed up against Ivy's head.
"Oh, Ella. I don't know how to let go of him."
"Don't let go," Tristan begged.
"In the end, she must," Lacey warned.
"I've lost him, Ella, I know it. Tristan is dead. He can't hold me ever again. He can't think of me.
He can't want me now. Love ends with death."
"It doesn't!" Tristan said. "I'll hold you again, I swear it, and you'll see that my love will never end."
"You're exhausted, Tristan," Lacey told him.
"I'll hold you, I'll love you forever!"
"If you don't rest now," Lacey said, "you'll become even more confused. It'll be hard to tell real from unreal, or to rouse yourself out of the darkness. Tristan, listen to me… "
But before she finished speaking, the darkness overtook him.
"Well," said Suzanne as the group of them filed out of the movie theater, "in the last few weeks, I think we've seen at least as many films as Siskel and Ebert."
"I'm not sure they went to see that one," Will observed.
"It's the only flick I've liked so far," Eric said. "Can't wait till they do Bloodbath IV."
Gregory glanced over at Ivy. She turned her head.
Ivy was the one who suggested a movie whenever someone told her she needed to get out, which was often lately. If it had been up to her, she'd sit through a triple feature. Occasionally she lost herself in the story, but even if she didn't, it was a way of looking sociable without having to talk. Unfortunately, the easiest part of the evening was over now. Ivy winced when they came out of the cinema's cool, dark otherworld and into the hot, neon-lit night.
"Pizza?" Gregory asked.
"I could use a drink," said Suzanne.
"Well, Gregory's buying, since he wouldn't let me stock the trunk," Eric told her.
"Gregory's buying pizza," Gregory said.
More and more, Ivy thought, Gregory was coming to resemble a camp counselor, shepherding around this odd flock of people, acting responsible. It was a wonder that Eric put up with it-but she knew that Gregory, Will, and Eric still had their own nights out, nights with wilder girls and guys.
On these group dates Ivy played a game with herself, seeing how long she could go without thinking about Tristan, or at least without missing him terribly. She worked at paying attention to those around her. Life went on for them, even if it didn't for her.
That night they headed for Celentano's, a popular pizza parlor. Their chairs wobbled and the tablecloths were squares of torn-off paper-Crayons and Pencils Provided, a sign said-but the owners, Pat and Dennis, were gourmet all the way. Beth, who loved anything with chocolate, adored their famous dessert pizzas.
"What's it going to be tonight?" Gregory teased her. "Brownies and cheese?"
Beth smiled, two pink streaks showing high in her cheeks. Part of Beth's prettiness was her openness, Ivy thought, her way of smiling at you without holding back.
"I'm getting something different. Something healthy. I've got it! Brie with apricots and shavings of bitter chocolate!"
Gregory laughed and laid his hand lightly on Beth's shoulder. Ivy thought back to the time when she had been mystified by some of Gregory's comments and convinced that he could only mock her and her friends.
But now she found him pretty easy to figure out. Like his father, he had a temper and he needed to be appreciated. At the moment, both Beth and Suzanne were appreciating him, Suzanne watching him more shrewdly, glancing over the top of her menu.
"All I want is pepperoni," Eric complained. "Just pepperoni." He was running his finger up and down and across the list of pizzas, up and down and across, like a frustrated mouse that couldn't find its way out of a maze.
Will had apparently made up his mind. His menu was closed and he had begun drawing on the paper tablecloth in front of him.
"Well, Rembrandt returns," said Pat, passing by their table, nodding toward Will. "Here for lunch three times this week," she explained to the others. "I'd like to think it's our cooking, but I know it's the free art materials."