“And what were some of your favorite things about Annie?” Tabitha asked.

Alice actually giggled. “Do you remember how she used to dress up as Santa Claus on Christmas Eve and make those presents for the kids?”

Eddie chuckled. “Oh yeah, of course I do. It’d be fucking midnight—wait, can I curse?”

Tabitha grinned. “Sure, why not?”

“So it’d be fucking midnight,” Eddie continued, “and Annie would come walking down this street in some dime-store Santa outfit, trying to drag a bag full of toys while singing.”

“She had a truly, truly terrible singing voice,” Alice said sweetly.

“Like nails on a chalkboard. But the chalkboard was in a room full of sick pigeons,” Eddie said. “We never had the heart to tell her. Not even in church.”

“Sometimes, after she’d leave presents for all the houses with kids, she’d leave these tiny flasks of liquor for the parents. She spent Christmas Day at rotating houses, since she didn’t live with anyone and her family was so far away,” Alice said. “But having to leave the people you love to come to some place new is a common experience in this neighborhood, even today. We all knew what it was like to have your heart in two places at once.”

I saw Tabitha blink rapidly.

Eddie leaned closer to the camera. “And let me tell you, that woman could throw a block party like it was her damn job. You never saw so much food in your life.”

“When was the last really great party you can remember?”

“When Dean won the Golden Gloves,” Eddie said.

My mothers went rigid next to me. It was funny how people’s opinions of me affected even good memories. Victorious memories. Nights that made me feel alive and like I finally belonged.

Tabitha cast a questioning gaze my way.

“It’s okay,” I said.

“Ah, shit. Sorry Dean,” Eddie said. “Didn’t mean to bring you into this.”

“It’s really fine,” I said, then cracked a slight smile. “It was a good night, yeah?”

Eddie whistled under his breath. “A good night is when the Birds win on a Sunday. This was like something out of a movie.”

Tabitha stepped back from her camera, propping her hands on her hips. “What are these Golden Gloves? Some totally cool boxing thing, I imagine?”

A whole lot of eyes landed on me.

Not even if this could count as your big comeback? The blinking recording light of Tabitha’s camera wouldn’t let me stop thinking about that phone call.

I cleared my throat and crooked my finger toward that light. Tabitha’s brows shot up. Watching me closely, she slowly turned until the camera was on me.

“It’s an amateur boxing competition,” I said. “They hold them in a bunch of different cities. But there’s also a national one. The year it was held in Philly, I competed.” I paused. “And won.”