Ethan and I followed Olivia to Target after practice. On the drive, my phone rang. Dad. I answered the call on the car's speaker. "Hey, Dad."

"Hi, honey." His voice didn't sound as mournful as it should have.

"You're on speaker. Ethan's here," I said.

"All right. Are you kids having fun?" Dad asked.

We had been smiling before the phone rang. To be honest, I'd completely forgotten about the woes of the day a few times during the scrimmage. I was pretty sure Ethan had too. "We're staying busy. How has your day been?"

He sighed. "I took the day off. Katherine and I painted the living room this morning, then we went out to dinner tonight."

I put a little too much pressure on the brake pedal as we neared the left turn into Target. The SUV stopped so suddenly, Ethan and I lurched forward. "You painted the living room?"

"Yep. It matches the kitchen now. A nice taupe color."

My hands twisted around the steering wheel. The kitchen had been lime green. The living room, lemon yellow. Mom had chosen colors that made her feel the most cheerful. Now taupe? The folding of his underwear bothered Ethan, yet he failed to mention Katherine redecorating Mom's house. He was staring out the passenger side window, unfazed.

"Um...I'm sure it's great. Hey, Dad, we've got to run. We're just pulling into the store." My fingers were twitching in the direction of the "End Call" button on the screen.

"All right. Do you have any plans to come home soon?" he asked.

To the taupe living room and kitchen? No thanks.

Ethan's face whipped toward me. "What about this weekend?"

"This weekend's no good," Dad said. "We're going up to see Bryan and Lindsley."

Bryan with a y was my new, super-successful stepbrother. Geez, stepbrother. I would never get used to that. He was an investment broker in St. Louis, and his wife, Lindsley (dubbed by my brother as "Little Miss Botox") was a stay-at-home mommy who held her neighborhood's record of getting back in her prebaby skinny jeans. She told me all about it at the wedding reception as I ate a second piece of cake.

They were the parents of the floral baby who'd been exploited all over her grandma's dating profile. What's that kid's name? Begonia? Whoever she was, Dad liked to send me pictures of her. I was beginning to wonder if he was dropping hints for grandchildren of his own.

"OK. Well, I hope you guys have a nice trip," I said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

"I'm sure we will. Dahlia is sitting up now and talking a little bit."

Dahlia! How could I forget a name so morbidly beautiful?

"That's great," I said, even though I couldn't possibly care less.

"How about the week after?" he asked.

The week after was the roller derby playoffs, and I'd be in Indianapolis with the girls. "I've got plans that weekend. We'll figure something out though. I'll let you know when I have a chance to look at my calendar."

"All right, Lucy." Now he sounded mournful. "I love you, honey."

It broke my bitter heart. "Dad, are you OK?"

"Yes, I'm all right. It's just a tough day, and I miss you," he said.

"I miss you too. I'll come home soon, I promise. I love you."

"I love you, Lucy. Bye, kids."

Ethan was quietly singing the lyrics to Cats in the Cradle when I ended the call. I backhanded him across the chest. "Oh, shut up, Ethan."

He cackled as I pulled into the parking lot. "What are we doing here?" he asked, looking up at the store.

"Buying a gift to cheer up Medusa," I said as I parked the car.

His head tilted to the side. "Kind of ironic given the day, isn't it?"

I'd thought the same thing while driving.

Obviously, Olivia had too, because her first question when she met us at the entrance was, "Are you sure you want to do this tonight?"

I nodded. "Absolutely."

"What do you buy someone to make them feel better, anyway?" Ethan asked, as the doors to the department store slid open.

Movies had been my thing right after Mom died. To be quite honest, I'm pretty sure I was personally responsible for any success Magic Mike XXL had at the box office. Her death coincided with the movie's addition to our local discount theater's lineup. So every Monday night for the six weeks it played, I caught the nine o'clock showing like I belonged to some weird one-woman Channing Tatum (or, really, Joe Manganiello) cult.

Yum.

I didn't even care about the plot. But it had been two hours of mind-numbing eye candy, an ab-infused salve to the soul. Cinematic therapy for a few dollars a ticket. Because grief is weird like that. Sometimes comfort is so elusive that it seems to be found in only the most unlikely of places.

I might watch it again before bed.

"I was thinking about getting her movies and booze," I announced.

"I was just thinking about booze," Olivia said with a laugh.

We stopped at the card section first. Ethan picked up one with bright red hearts all over it and turned it toward Olivia. "Maybe you can get this for Styx." He made kissy noises.

She looked around, then snatched the card out of his hand and put it back. "Knock it off."

"What's up with you? Why are you being all secretive?" I asked.

"She's an All-Star member and our coach." She pulled me down the aisle toward the sympathy cards. "I don't want people to think I'm sleeping my way onto the team."

My mouth dropped open. "You're sleeping with her?"

"Details, please," Ethan said, closing his eyes and folding his hands in prayer.

Olivia punched his arm. Hard. "That's not what I meant. We're just talking."

"You really think people would assume that? You're so good," I said.

She picked up a card with the words "THIS SUCKS" scrawled across the front. "I don't want to chance it. Neither does she."

"Then you two really need to work on your covert skills. It's so obvious," Ethan said.

"Really?" she asked, grimacing.

"Yes," he and I answered in harmony.

We moved on to the movie section next. Olivia picked out The Birdcage. Ethan picked out Superbad. I picked out Magic Mike XXL because who knows? Maybe Hollywood added subliminal messages of comfort and healing to the baseline of that Nine Inch Nails scene. I almost fanned my face just thinking about it.

With my luck, Medusa was a lesbian.

We added a few bars of expensive chocolate to the cart along with a bottle of wine and a case of beer Styx had suggested. I found a pretty teal wicker basket on the home-goods aisle, and I picked up a twenty-five-dollar movie-theater gift card on our way to the check-out line.

"How are we going to get it to her?" I asked Olivia as we unloaded the cart.

She pulled out the case of beer. "Styx said she can give it to her before they leave for Indianapolis."

I reached for the "THIS SUCKS" sympathy card that had been hidden under the case. "Maybe we shouldn't sign our names, so she doesn't think we're brownnosing."

Olivia nodded. "That's a good idea."

Ethan shook his head and looked at me. "Or maybe not. God knows, you're going to need all the help you can get!"