“Yeah. I’m addicted to the lemonade.” She slurped again. “I get off in an hour. Let’s do something.”
“Don’t you have a date with Trey?”
“Not really a date. A bunch of us are going to a movie. You should come.”
I sighed and picked at the loose threads again. “I can’t.” I took a deep breath. “Today’s the anniversary. I need to be here with Mom.”
“Oh, honey,” Desi said breathily. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“It’s okay.”
“Is your mom home?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll come over as soon as I’m off work. I can stay with you until she gets home.”
“Desi, I’m fine. Besides, she’s the one who falls apart on the anniversary. Not me.”
Desi was quiet for a moment. “True. You never fall apart, do you?”
“Go to your movie,” I told her. “I’ll be fine. Mom and I will have dinner. Then she’ll light candles, say a rosary, and collapse. I’ll hold her until she cries herself to sleep. Then I’ll go to bed.”
Desi inhaled sharply. “God, Trina. That sounds awful.”
I sighed. “It’s what Mom needs to do, and I need to be here with her. Tomorrow we’ll eat Pop Tarts and drink lousy coffee and start a new day.”
“Okay, well, we’re still on for tomorrow night, right?”
“Um, tomorrow?”
“Pizza and The Voice, right? My house?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. I, um, forgot.”
“Something has totally distracted you.” She snorted. “Maybe the other nanny is what’s messing with your memory.”
“Desi…” My voice was full of warning.
“Okay, okay. I’ll drop it.” She laughed in my ear. “Anyway. You know you can call me any time, right? Like tonight, after your mom goes to sleep, if you want to come spend the night at my house or whatever.”
I smiled into the phone. “Desi, did anyone ever tell you you’re the best friend ever?”
“Once or twice. Some shrimpy little girl who keeps stalking me.”
I laughed. “Bite me, supermodel.”
Desi slurped in my ear again. “I’ve gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She paused. “I’ll be sending you positive vibes tonight. And your mom.”
“Thanks.” I pushed the blanket off my bare legs. I needed something to think about besides tonight’s impending gloom.
The shouts of little kids playing outside drew my attention. I moved to the window and watched them run on the small grassy area of our apartment complex. One of the girls reminded me of Gillian, fearlessly climbing to the top of the fence.
Slade’s cold indifference at the park loomed in my mind, and I shook my head, as if I could shatter the images into a million pieces. So he didn’t like me. So what? That was hardly a news flash. He was a good actor, though, I’d give him that. I’d actually been fooled a little bit, thinking we might end up friends by the end of summer. And for one delusional moment, I’d dared to hope for more than friendship.
My eyes shifted to the table in the corner. A new candle towered over the others, which had burned low over the years. Mom bought a new candle for each anniversary of my brother’s death. This one was red, slim, and tapered at the top.
Breathing slowly, I walked to the table. My hands trembled as I lifted the picture frame. I looked into my brother’s laughing face, preserved forever at five years old, the age of his death. The same age as Gillian and Max.
We’d been inseparable. I was only eleven months older than him. Most of my memories were vague, but what I felt in my heart confirmed what my mom always said, that he and I were always together.
“You were like twins,” she said. “You even had a secret language you used around Dad and me, when you didn’t want us to understand your silly schemes.”
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I closed them and heard his infectious giggle. I saw flashes in my mind, of running after him in the grass, of hiding under a blanket on my bed hoping no one would find us. Most of the images were faded, but I clung to them because I didn’t want to forget.
Only one image was as clear as if it had happened this morning. My legs shook as I let the memory overwhelm me. I let it come, because I owed it to Brian, on this day, to fully remember. I heard the faraway laughter of the grown-ups, the music. Remembered the feel of the damp grass under my bare feet as I ran toward the shimmering pool, beckoning me like a beacon. Heard Brian’s footsteps behind me, his laughter, then his pleading voice begging me to slow down. I always ran faster; it was the only thing I did better than him.