‘Really.’

‘It’s total masochism.’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, last year, I did a pirate theme, which was kind of cute. The year before, we did a whole Renaissance thing. But this year… I mean, what am I going to do? I’m not exactly in a festive place right now.’

I watched her as she ran a hand over Isby’s cheek, then tucked the blanket more tightly around her. ‘You’ll think of something.’

Just then, her phone rang again. She picked it up, settling it between her ear and shoulder. ‘Hi, Morgan. No, it’s fine. I was just talking to Elaine.’ She sighed, shaking her head. ‘I know. And I appreciate that. But it’s just… I can’t believe this, you know? Last year at this time, all I wanted was for Robert and me to get pregnant, and now…’

She gulped, then moved a hand to cover her face, even as I heard whoever was on the other end start talking, their voice low and soothing. I pushed out my chair, then put my cup in the sink as once again, I found myself on the outside, watching something I’d never really known and didn’t understand. Most perplexing of all, though, was the tightness of my own throat and the sudden lump I felt there. I pushed back my chair, slipping out of the room, into the foyer, thinking again of my dad walking out that same door, bag in hand. It was terrible and awful when someone left you. You could move on, do the best you could, but like Eli had said, an ending was an ending. No matter how many pages of sentences and paragraphs of great stories led up to it, it would always have the last word.

By the time I left the house two hours later, Heidi and the baby were both sleeping. The house seemed almost peaceful, if you didn’t know better.

I, however, felt entirely unsettled, which made no sense, because first, Heidi was not my mother, and second, when this had happened with my parents, years earlier, I’d been just fine. Sure, I was disappointed and a little sad, but from what I remembered, I’d adapted pretty quickly to the new arrangements. Aside from the whole not-sleeping thing, of course, but that had been going on already. What I didn’t remember was the weird, panicky feeling, now still lingering, that had come over me watching my dad drive away from the house earlier. It was the way I usually felt around midnight, knowing that so much of the night was still to come and I had to find a way to fill it, the certainty of time passing so slowly until daylight.

Thank God I had work to do. I’d actually never been so happy to walk into Clementine’s, which was bustling with customers in a late afternoon rush. Maggie, consulting with a mother and daughter on some jean shorts, waved as I passed, grabbing the receipts and invoices on my way to the office. Once inside, I shut the door, flicked on the light, and prepared myself to buckle down into the numbers until closing. I’d just managed to lose myself in the check register when my phone rang.

MOM, the caller ID said. I watched the screen, the little phone jumping up and down as it logged one ring, then another. For a moment, I considered answering and telling her everything. Then, just as quickly, I realized that this was the worst possible idea ever. It would be like Christmas and her birthday rolled into one, the satisfaction she’d get, and I just couldn’t take her smugness. And besides, she’d hung up on me the day before, making it more than clear that she didn’t want to know me. Now it was my right to distance myself, as long as I wanted.

For the next two hours, I immersed myself in Heidi’s books, more grateful than ever for the dependability and static nature of numbers and calculations. When I finished the register and the payroll, I turned my attention to the desk, which had been cluttered since the day I started. I could almost feel my blood pressure dropping, bit by bit, as I organized Heidi’s pens, throwing out the ones that didn’t work and making sure the rest had caps snugly on and were all facing upright in the pink mug where they lived. Then I moved on to the top drawer, sorting little scraps of paper, stacking random business cards into neat piles, and collecting all the paper clips into an empty Band-Aid box I found lying nearby. I was just about to tackle the next one, when there was a tap on the door and Maggie stuck her head in.

‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Esther’s going to Beach Beans, you want anything?’

I reached into my pocket, pulling out my wallet. ‘Large triple-shot mocha.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Wow. You pulling an all-nighter, or something?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m just… kind of tired.’

She nodded, running a hand through her hair. ‘I hear you. My mom started in on me first thing this morning about my roommate forms. Apparently she wants me to fast track my pick because she’s worried otherwise we won’t have enough time to properly coordinate our linens. As if anyone else cares about that.’

I had a flash of my own mother, her clipped tone when I dared to question her choice of the Pembleton Program. ‘That’s what she’s worried about?’

‘She’s worried about everything,’ Maggie said, flipping her hand. ‘In her mind, if I don’t have the perfect college experience, it will be an unparalleled tragedy.’

‘That’s not such a bad thing, though,’ I said, ‘is it?’

She sighed. ‘You don’t know my mother. I’m never, you know, enough for her.’

‘Enough?’

‘Girly enough,’ she explained, ‘because I was so into dirt bikes. Social enough, because I only had one boyfriend all through high school and didn’t “play the field”. Now I’m not embracing college enough. And it hasn’t even started yet!’