Dad perched on the edge of an armchair beside me. It was nearly five o’clock and starting to get dark outside. In my mind’s eye, I saw kids in houses all up and down the street finishing their dinners and starting to get into their costumes. Mom had promised to be home in time to curl my hair and help me into my princess costume. I was getting mad.
“Where is she?”
Dad’s hand was warm on my shoulder. “She’ll be here, hon. I’m sure she’s going as fast as she can. Everyone’s rushing home in time for trick-or-treating. I’ll bet she’s stuck in the drive-thru of that slow McDonald’s.” He was trying to joke, but I could tell he was freaked out.
At five thirty I found him in the kitchen, trying Mom’s cell over and over again. He hung up when he saw me, and suggested that we eat some sandwiches to tide us over in case we needed to start trick-or-treating before she made it home.
“But Daaaad!” I can still remember the way I whined, and it makes me feel so ashamed. “You don’t know how to curl hair like Mom does, and she has my tiara in the trunk of her car!”
I felt like Halloween was ruined.
“It’s raining, anyway,” he reasoned, a sharp edge in his voice. “Curling your hair would be a bit of a waste when it’s going to get wet.”
I stomped up the stairs and he followed. My dress was on the back of my door, and I grudgingly let him help me into it. It was pink and sparkly and had a little crinoline and hoop underneath that made it fall in a bell shape. I felt gorgeous.
“I have an idea,” Dad said. He slipped out of my room and came back with Mom’s pearls. “I don’t think she’d mind, as long as you’re careful.”
I felt my grumpiness fall away as he fastened the pearls around my neck. I’d never worn anything so beautiful. Dad brushed my hair till it shone and pulled the sides back with a sparkly barrette. I remember hugging him in thanks as we heard a knock at the door.
“Mom!” We must have left the door locked, I realized as we raced each other down the steps. I couldn’t wait for my mom to see me looking so beautiful. I knew she’d squeal and clap her hands and hug and kiss me. And I knew I’d wiggle away and pretend to be embarrassed.
But when Dad opened the door, there was a dripping policeman standing there with his hat in his hands. This guy is way too old for trick-or-treating, I thought. I reached for the second-rate candy we gave to the older teenagers in pathetic costumes. I stopped, though, when I heard a moaning sound coming from my dad. I looked beside me and saw that he had sunk to his knees with his hands over his face.
“Sir,” the police officer began. “I need a moment of your time. In private, if possible.” He was trying to get rid of me, that much I understood.
My dad seemed to jolt awake with the realization that I was still there. “Go upstairs.” It was not his regular voice.
I stayed where I was. I wasn’t being disobedient . . . I was mesmerized. I felt as if the pieces of a puzzle were sliding around in my mind but hadn’t yet fallen into place. I didn’t want to leave.
“Upstairs, Annie.” His voice was harsh. I blinked back tears.
The officer stepped in. “Annie? Is it Annie?” he asked. Funny, the things you remember. He had the kindest eyes and a voice straight out of a Disney movie. I nodded my head at him. I wanted him to like me.
“I need you to go upstairs so I can talk with your dad for a bit. He’s not in any trouble, and neither are you. I’ll call you back down when we’re done, okay?”
I nodded again and walked upstairs like a good little girl. I waited in my room for a few minutes till I was sure they weren’t going to check on me. Then I went to the landing and listened to every word.
“That’s how I learned that my mother had died,” I tell Courtney. “I was sitting in a sparkly pink dress, wearing her pearls and waiting for Chicken McNuggets with fries. I heard the policeman tell my dad about the six-car pileup on the freeway. I heard him say her car had flipped over several times and that they had done all they could. I heard him give his condolences and leave. Then I waited for my dad to come get me.”
Courtney reaches across the space between our two chairs and takes hold of my hand. “I’m sorry,” she says, and I can tell she means it.
We sit in silence, and I feel peaceful in a way I haven’t in a very long time. “I’ve never told anyone that story before.”
She winks at me. “I figured it had to be something pretty major to keep you from making out with loverboy at Jon’s party.”
I swat at her shoulder and nearly drop my beer. “He is a pretty great kisser,” I admit.
“I know,” Court says. “He’s my ex.”
My whole body goes cold. “Wh-what?”
She laughs and waves her hand at me. “Relax. It was ages ago.”
I grip my beer and try to read her expression. “Why didn’t Larissa say anything? She practically threw me at him at her party.”
“Like I said, it was years ago. A stupid eighth-grade thing she’s probably forgotten about. We’ve hooked up a few times since but kept it a secret, so she really had no idea.”
Hooked up a few times since? I have a million questions I want to ask her, but I have the feeling I’m treading across a minefield. “And you’re okay with us going out?”
“Don’t look so nervous,” she says. “I’m not my mom—I don’t go backwards,
