SIXTY
BILLIE
TODAY WAS the hardest day of the year. We all had one—a memory from a certain period in our life that we revisited when the anniversary approached.
Mine wasn’t exactly a memory. It was a little more complicated than that, but the date was May 20. And every year, I’d return home to spend it with my family where we celebrated with laughter and food and booze.
Food was how we communicated after all. The way we showed our love for each other. Food was what hugged back and listened when no one understood our pain.
There would be music playing and lights strung across the porch, buckets of ice-cold beer all over the backyard.
It would be a party, and that was the way it should be.
And that was the reason I wanted Jared here—to celebrate with my family, to finally meet them.
He had to work, and that was a reasonable excuse. It just didn’t make today any easier.
Because, despite it being a celebration, today was my struggle.
The party was scheduled to start tonight at six. Speakers had been stationed around the shrubs, platters of food were waiting in the fridge, and cases of beer and alcohol were taking up a third of the garage.
Everything was in place.
It just wasn’t time.
Now that we were all back in the house together and everyone was hanging around downstairs, I headed upstairs for a moment of quiet. Still wearing my black dress from earlier, I walked to my old room, but when I got to the door, I didn’t stop. I continued down the hallway to my parents’ bedroom.
I paused for a second in their doorway, taking a breath, and then I sat on my mother’s side of the mattress.
This was the first time I had come in here since returning to Portland a few days ago.
It wasn’t a place I avoided. I’d spent many nights of my childhood in this bed.
But on May 20, it was a hard place to be.
I leaned forward, grabbing the framed photo off the nightstand, holding it between my hands. It was a picture of my parents on their wedding day. My mother wore a casual white dress, and Dad was in a black suit.
They were so incredibly beautiful together.
I held the frame against my chest, and I closed my eyes as I tried to remember every detail he’d ever told me.
SIXTY-ONE
HONEY
WINTER 1988
HONEY STOOD at the sink in their bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror. The girl looking back at her was far different than the one who had stood here when she first moved in with Andrew. She was even different than the girl who had gripped the ledge of this sink six months ago.
Everything in her life had changed.
Honey glanced down at the engagement ring and wedding band that hugged the finger on the left hand. When she’d said her vows, she’d had no idea the ride she was about to take with Andrew, the experiences they were going to live through.
How naive of her to think things were going to be simple.
Even now, as she looked into her eyes, she saw the most complex situation of her entire life.
She reached for her toothbrush, swiped some paste over the bristles, and began brushing her teeth. Once she rinsed out her mouth, she squirted some cleanser into her palm and scrubbed her face.
When she was clean and feeling a little better, she went into the bedroom where Andrew was sleeping and climbed in next to him. She rested her face against his shoulder, taking in his warmth, tickling her nails up and down his arm in a way he loved.
“Don’t stop,” he groaned when she slowed at his wrist.
She could feel the goose bumps on his skin, and that made her smile as she scratched his chest, more bumps growing as she trickled down his stomach and then back to his hand.
“We have so much to do today,” she reminded him since it was time they both got up.
“Just a few more minutes.” He held his arm out across her body, so she would tickle to his fingertips and then as high as his armpit.
He was so easy to please. If she brought him a cup of coffee, he would be smiling all day.
She had something even better to give him.
“Andrew, we have to go crib shopping.”
His face was covered with a pillow, but the white fluff moved when he turned his neck. “You don’t like the one we bought?”
She sat up, crossing her legs over the bed, still rubbing her nails on his arm. “I love that one.”