“Yes it is, baby. Shinier even than the one Georgia stole from Mommy.” And she clasps the charm bracelet around Suzy’s wrist before Suzy can wriggle away. Annie knows it’s a cheap imitation. But it has Suzy’s initials, a little gift box, a “3” charm to represent her age. And Annie’s monogrammed initials, too, clanging gently against Suzy’s, so teeny tiny that Annie is thankful that Suzy is a smart kid, that she won’t try to eat the charms, to yank them off the chain and stick them in her belly button, her eye.

And then Suzy rushes forward, downstairs to the party.

17

After that night, something happens, small shifts in my routine becoming bigger changes, becoming regular, and thus becoming my new normal.

I spend time with Jordan and Lola that day, while Anneliese is at the movies. They drink delicious-looking smoothies Anneliese made for them before she left, and we color in a Barbie coloring book, then another one full of black-and-white mosaics, which I soon realize is supposed to be a stress management exercise book for adults. We read some books and make slime, and toward the end of the day I convince Jordan to teach me to play his favorite video game, something with anthropomorphic cars playing sports in place of people, and I watch myself lose on-screen over and over again, my car making circles around the ball.

“You’re pretty bad at this,” Jordan says, laughing, beating me again. Lola is down for her nap in the next room.

“Well, wanna teach me to be better?” And Jordan thinks about it for a moment and then shrugs and shifts over and starts explaining, his voice steady and serious in the way only a seven-year-old teaching a dumb grown-up how to play a game can be.

And then I’m over there every night. I help Anneliese cook dinner, watch movies with the kids, read Lola her bedtime stories. Anneliese seems to enjoy it, smiling fondly at us, as if from some distant past, as I lie in bed beside Lola and help her turn the pages. I’ve even gotten the voices down.

As an only child, I’m not used to willingly sharing space and attention with other people, but I find that I fall into the pattern easily, that Jordan and Lola are so lovely to be around, so curious and sweet, that for once I’m taking a back seat, allowing them to dictate my days.

The best part, though, is that I emerge from this peaceful existence rested, no ache of fatigue lingering in my bones. I’m light, on my feet and in my smile, my gait soft like a ballerina’s. I’m springy, naturally caffeinated. A different person.