I am hyperaware of the fact that I have lost three of the people I cared most about—Mom, Dom, and now, possibly, probably, Joe. True, Joe is not dead, thank God, but with the kind of luck that’s attached to people I care about, it is better to leave him be than to pursue any sort of connection with him.

Plus, it has to be said—even though I’m happy for Dad, I’m also destroyed by the idea that he is in love with another woman.

I spend the next two weeks holed up in my room. Silver lining: this time, I’m not as pathetic about it as the month that followed Dom’s death.

No, I am now officially a high-functioning train wreck. I shower daily. I have to. Renn and Dad take turns banging on my bedroom door when I linger. I’m on cooking duty Tuesdays and Fridays. And they are always adamant I make healthy things. With lentils and vegetables. Anything frozen from Costco doesn’t count, they say. The rest of the time, I’m in my bed. Reading, crying, processing.

I don’t hear from Joe, and I shouldn’t expect to. I slept with him, then moved to the other side of the country. Again. Only now he has to face the fact we both betrayed Dominic. Alone.

And yet I give myself some grace and allow myself to heal.

As I heal, I listen carefully to the telltale signs of happy life that rise from downstairs, seeping through the cracks of the floorboards. Donna comes to the house every day. Renn mentioned she is crashing at Dylan’s place, to give me space, which I have to admit is a promising move on her part.

I haven’t met her yet. I make sure I’m always in my room when she is here. But I hear her making Dad and Renn food whenever they deem mine inedible (which is always). I hear her whistle and sing old eighties songs (Duran Duran, Air Supply, Tina Turner) as she takes care of the garden. She always asks Renn if he needs something from the supermarket.

I can tell she is, at the very least, not Snow White’s evil stepmom. I think these small doses of her that I consume without actually interacting with her are helping me come to terms with her presence in our lives. But I’m still worried that this is all for show. That she is putting on an act because she knows I’m listening.