"Honestly, I don't even play an active role in my life anymore. Things just happen and I'm like, "Oh, is this what we're doing now? Okay"."

~Anonymous

~~~~~~~~~

"Ugh--Dusty, come on, man," I groan, burying my face in my hands.

Dusty looks at me from across the dining room table, two sausage links stuck up each nostril.

"What?" she retorts. "I'm a walrus!"

"Walrus tusks don't come out of their noses," Eloise corrects, rolling her eyes before eating another bite of eggs.

"But if they did, where does their snot go when they sneeze?" Dusty waves her fork in the air like a philosopher on the verge of a discovery. "Or do Walruses even sneeze?"

I sigh. "You're all hopeless. Hurry up, or we're gonna be late."

Sacha called this morning and said she bought a ton of LEGOs from a thrift store. She's going to give them to her nieces and nephews, but said the girls could have first pick if we get to her house before ten.

Once everyone is finished, we pile our dishes in the sink and head out the door.

Sacha only lives about three minutes away, and Eloise says we could've walked, but I tell her that I'd rather lick a frozen metal pole than have to keep track of everyone crossing the street.

I pull into Sacha's driveway, where it smells like pumpkin and cinnamon. Her doorstep is decorated like a Red Ribbon's show booth, with fall leaves, scarecrows, and a giant turkey holding a sign that says "Happy Gobble Day!" perched on a wicker chair.

"You should decorate, Aunt Beverly," Dusty suggests.

I scoff. "Oh sure. Then I'll be running Thanksgiving 5k's in booty shorts out in thirty-degree weather, only to come home and say "no, I'll skip the dessert, please pass the keto spinach dip"."

The door opens and Sacha grins at us, her ruddy cheeks even ruddier than usual.

"Hey girls!" She steps aside for us to come in and I notice that her house is strangely dark.

When we go inside, the lights in the living room flick on and twenty people shout, "Surprise!"

All three girls and I scream bloody murder, and I instinctively push them behind me, ready to fend off the demons, but our cries are drowned out by the shouts of all the guests.

It takes me a moment to realize that this is a surprise party and not a surprise attack.

My eyes sweep fearfully over the crowd and I see Iris Barber, Miss Suzy, Barb, Janet, Mr. Canto the neighbor, Hayden, and...Kristen.

"Oh great," I moan, reaching for the doorknob to escape.

"Not so fast, hon," Sacha says, prodding me away from the door.

The girls recover from their shock, completely unphased, and run off to play with Barb and Janet's kids.

I can't breathe. "Why...why would you do this?" I murmur.

"Just calm down," Sacha chides, taking my arm sympathetically. "I got to feeling bad about us getting upset over you spending so much time at Percival, so...I thought we could cross the streams a little! You know, bring everyone together so we wouldn't be so divided!"

"Then why'd you invite me?" I squeak, my voice going two octaves higher than it usually is.

"Because it's about you!" Sacha laughs.

I see Kristen in the kitchen, talking with one of her blonde sidekicks. I scowl. "Why'd she even come?"

"I just invited everyone; I didn't know. Now go get some pumpkin spice punch!"

"Pumpkin spice...punch?" I frown.

"Just go."

I go over to the punch bowl and can smell the cinnamon from two feet away.

I feel Kristen's eyes boring into me like a nest of rats locking onto a wedge of cheese.

"It was sweet of your little country friends to invite us over," Kristen says.

The way she says us makes my skin crawl. Like we're a different species. Not that I mind being a different species than whatever animal Kristen is. Probably an ugly old kraken. Or a hairless cat.

I take a sip of punch and my stomach rolls with the shock of it. It's like drinking the face of Sacha's scarecrow on the porch.

I clench my jaw to keep from making a face and point at Kristen lazily. "Where'd you get that shirt from? I didn't know they still sold clothes with shoulder pads in them."

Kristen glowers at me. "It doesn't have shoulder pads."

I raise my eyebrows. "Oops. My mistake."

Her face does that weird shift, where she goes from all-out 1984 Gremlin to 1999 Meg Ryan in half a second. She gives a pink-lipped smile and says, "You know, I think you and that art teacher make a cute couple."

My heartbeat quickens. The way she says it makes everything sound wrong. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You know he has...a mental disability," she says pitifully.

Now every muscle in me is wound up tight. "The only one who has any sort of disability here is you, Kristen. The disability to be a nice, functioning human who doesn't make other people want to deck you in the face and lock you in a dumpster." I match her pitying face. "Too bad we can't send you back to the factory where all the other malfunctioning robots go."

Her eyes widen with fury and she steps close to me.

I almost think she's about to hit me, but then she says, "You've ruined everything."

That takes me by surprise. "What's your problem with me, Kristen?"

"Ever since you came to Percival, you've taken everything."

I blink, take a breath, and hold up a finger. "Wait a second. I usually play dumb to get the answer that I want, but this time I actually really don't know what you're talking about."

"Everything's about you." Her jaw works and for a moment it looks like she's about to cry. "Now all everyone talks about is how far you've come and how good your girls are. That school is all I have, especially since..." her words falter to a stop.

My mind is still hung up on the words "your girls", but eventually catches up to speed. "Since what?"

Her features go cold again. "The divorce." Her voice is flat and lifeless and it's only then that I realize how tired Kristen really looks. How hollow her eyes are, how her frown lines look deeper and more permanent than usual.

For a split second, I think about apologizing. But I don't think she deserves that yet.

So I don't dump my pumpkin spice punch on her.

Instead, I say, "I could never wear baby pink lipstick like you do."

She squints at me. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

"No. No, it wasn't. Because I have the good sense never to wear baby pink lipstick, like you do. Good day, Kristen."

I take a triumphant sip of my punch, then gag and spit it back into the cup. "Gah--ugh, that is so gross." I leave it on the counter next to Kristen and back away.

I find Barb and Janet, who are, surprisingly, having a conversation with Iris Barber.

"Well there she is!" Iris says. "I've missed seeing you in the cafe."

I raise an incredulous eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm sure you've missed having me pay half price for iced coffees literally every day."

Iris laughs and turns to Barb and Janet. "She doesn't actually pay half price."

I blink in confusion.

"Many years ago I doubled the price. She really pays full price, but likes to think she's cheating me."

I freeze. "What?!"

~~~~~~

"Dusty, you need a nap," I sigh.

Dusty is crying in the back seat of the car because I wouldn't let her drink her pumpkin spice punch with a Pirouline cookie.

The party was a nice gesture on Sacha's part, even though I hated literally every minute of it. Especially the part when I realized that my life is an entire lie with the iced coffee and all. But one good thing did come out of it.

I feel a strange sense of closure with Kristen. Did anyone else know she was going through a divorce? It gave me—oh, what's the word? Sympathy.

I still think Kristen is a toilet brush from Hell, but I understand her better. I'm also way, way better than her. So I've decided not to waste my time with her anymore.

We pull into the driveway and I have to crawl into the back seat to unbuckle Dusty.

"We didn't even get any LEGO's!" she wails.

"But you did drink your weight in pumpkin spice punch," I grunt, breaking another nail as I unbuckle the clip.

"Not with a Pirouline!!!' she sobs.

"Alright, alright, cool it, kiddo," I say tiredly, picking her up and carrying her inside.

Eloise, thankfully, takes Dusty upstairs for a nap while I get a package of frozen chinese food out to thaw.

A few minutes later, the phone rings and Jemma dashes into the kitchen. "It's Mom!" she pants.

I freeze in the middle of dumping the mini eggrolls onto the pan.

Jemma can't see me hanging up on her mom.

My stomach feels sick as I take the phone. "Thanks, Jemma," I say (bitterly in my heart).

I retreat to my room, where I close the door and take a deep breath before answering. "Hello?"

"Are you deaf? Did you not hear your phone blowing up a million times a day?"

I try to tell myself that she isn't the bad guy. That she just cares about her kids. But I can't help but say, "What? I can't hear you."

"Oh just shut up, Beverly!"

I close my eyes and sigh. Aimee's using her mom voice now. There's no getting out of this now.

"It's been a week! A week since my daughter got arrested, without a word from you! Do you have any idea how disrespectful that is? Any idea?"

"I'm sorry, Aimee--"

"No, sorry doesn't cut it!"

I frown. She sounds just like our mom and it makes the hair stand up on my arms.

"And that's not even to mention that she got arrested! For drinking! I just...I can't believe it, honestly."

And then the tears come. Aimee sniffles like she's trying to hold it back, but I can tell she's on the verge of a breakdown. My stomach tightens with guilt.

"That's my baby," she whispers, her voice shaking uncontrollably.

I sit down on the bed and rest my forehead in my hand. "I know."

"She was in so much danger, Beverly. My child. And...and I'm over here a million miles away and I can't do anything. Can you imagine how that feels?"

I close my eyes. "No."

"And it's my fault because..." her voice falters, "because I left them with you."

My heart pricks at that. "I'm not going to make excuses to you, Aimee. She was in my care, so it's my fault, but I want you to know that I would never do anything to put them in danger on purpose. I didn't know where she was going, and I should've been more suspicious, but the reason I was careless was because I was trying so hard to be a good mom-figure to them. I won't ever be as good as you are, but I swear to you, I--I love those girls, Aimee. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true."

There's a long silence and I think Aimee's hung up until she says, "That's what Eloise told me too." Her voice is calmer now. More like Aimee. "She said you've changed."

"Yeah," I say quietly. "I have."

I press the crease in my jeans along the seams with my thumb. "I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am, Aims. Nothing that terrible has happened. In fact, everything's been going good."

"I know." Aimee takes a deep breath. "And I'm proud of you."

I feel a small grin tug at my lips. "Really?"

"Yeah."

I smile down at my lap. To hear someone who's seen me throughout my entire life say they're proud of me? That's something that hasn't happened before.

We actually have a casual chat for a few minutes. I ask about her trip and tell her about Jemma's Halloween costume. After a while, she doesn't seem so upset anymore.

But her next sentence is like a crushing blow.

"I hope we can stay connected after I come home. I got it worked out to where I can come back next week."

My heart sinks down, down, down, to the point I think it's reached the basement. It takes a moment for me to realize what she's saying. "Wait. Wait, what?"

"Look, I appreciate everything, Bev. You really came through for me and my family, but I was at dinner with my coworkers the other night and I just...I need to be with my family now. I've been so angry at Calvin for replacing us, but I've been doing the same thing. And above all, I don't ever want my kids to feel unwanted. I need to be there for them. So...I decided to take a different position at work that will let me be home more and have no more overseas trips.."

I lay on the bed flat on my back. I can't breathe. "But...but I thought...it's only the beginning of November."

Aimee laughs. "Oh, I know they're a handful, but you're sweet to sound disappointed."

But I am.

I am so, so disappointed.

Sending them back with Aimee wasn't even a thought yet. I assumed I have two more months, which, in my mind, is the same as forever.

I'm not ready to let them go. Not yet. But what else am I supposed to do?

I guess in some deep naive part of me, the girls have become my girls. And I forget who they really belong to.

"Okay," I croak through my tight throat.

"I have a few more meetings I have to attend, but then I should be back by next Wednesday."

Wednesday? That's only four days away.

It's too soon.

I don't know how to process everything ending that quickly. Staring up at the ceiling, I say, "Sounds good."

Aimee says some other things that I don't hear before telling me she'll talk to me soon.

"Okay," I whisper.

"I'm sorry for being so upset, Bev. About everything with Eloise. I know you tried your best."

"Yeah."

"I'll talk to you later."

"Bye." I hang up and drop my arm to my side. I don't know what to do with myself, so I just stare in stunned silence up at the ceiling for the next hour until Eloise tells me that the eggrolls are done.