There was a note tacked to the refrigerator. The handwriting was small and shaky, but I recognized it as Mom’s. She’d gone to the office with Dad. He had a few hours of work to catch up on before they had an appointment with a grief counselor. The address was written below the counselor’s name on the off chance that I wanted to join them. I wasn’t going. No counselor, no amount of framed diplomas on an office wall could get me out of the hole I’d dug. After that, they were going to get dinner. She said she’d call and let me know where they were going in case Alex and I wanted to join them after the game. I didn’t.
I looked at the clock on the microwave—it was 1:00. I’d never been to a shrink before, but I presumed my parents would be there awhile. They had a lot of stuff to hash out, stuff that was mainly my fault. My guess was they’d last about an hour, maybe more if Mom cried. That gave me a couple of hours, at least, before I had to face them.
I grabbed my phone and shut it off, going so far as to remove the battery from the back and shove the phone into the top drawer of my desk. I didn’t want to talk to anybody, at least not until I figured out exactly what I was going to say to my parents.
I went into my own closet and pulled out my favorite pair of jeans, the ones that Josh and I used to draw on when we were bored in History class. Each character, each symbol, and each silly quote had a story attached to it. I wanted to wrap myself in those memories and carry them with me. The flannel shirt was one of Maddy’s. It was soft and well worn, something she used to wear on the weekends when she was lounging around. It had a lipstick smudge on the sleeve and still smelled like her—lavender and vanilla, and the tiniest hint of Alex’s cologne that always seemed to linger around her. The sweatshirt Josh gave me the other day was still hanging on the chair downstairs. I grabbed it and put it on, drawing an overly long sleeve to my nose and breathing in the familiar inky scent that was Josh.
It felt good to surround myself with the warm scents of the two people I loved most, and without having to worry about my hair or makeup, I felt like regular old me. The only things missing were my sneakers and my sketchbook. I’d grab those in a minute.
“Hey, Bailey,” I said as I ruffled his fur. “You recognized me from the start. Nobody else did but you.”
He nuzzled my hand and rolled over, looking for me to scratch his belly. I reached for the box of treats Mom hadn’t moved from my nightstand. I hid the entire box underneath the comforter. If he could get at it, then they were his, my gift for making him suffer this past month without me. “I’ll see you in a little bit, buddy. You stay here and find your treats.”
I left him there pawing through my bed and went back into Maddy’s room to grab my wallet. I stopped midstep when I saw a dress wrapped in clear plastic lying on the bed. There was an alteration slip attached with a pick-up date of today. No wonder I couldn’t find the dress Maddy had bought for the Snow Ball. She’d taken it to be fitted the week before she died.
It was short and black, and there was a brand-new pair of heels sitting next to it. On top of the dress was a note from Mom instructing me to try it on in case it needed to be re-altered. I knew what she was getting at. I was thinner than before the accident, had been eating less.
I put down the note and picked up the silver box next to the dress. Inside was a pair of diamond earrings and a matching pendant. I recognized them. Grammy had given them to my mom before she died.
Maddy’s shoe box collection of memories was still in the closet, where I’d left it, the ones about Molly still tucked beneath the mattress. I reached to get them and pulled out every reference to Molly. I tore them into a million pieces and tossed them in the trash, then flushed the pills down the toilet. I never wanted Mom and Dad to find out what Maddy had done, never wanted their image of her tainted in any way. But that wasn’t in my hands anymore. That was up to Molly, and no matter what she decided to do with the information I’d handed her, I’d stand beside her, be the kind of friend she deserved.