“I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.”

That makes two of us, Paula.

“Nobody would blame you for that, but let’s think about Ally. Her feelings matter just as much, if not more than yours.”

“It’s like I’ve lost her twice. First it was because of Dan; now it’s because she simply doesn’t want to be here.” Paula sighs. “I’m not angry, I’m frustrated. All I want is for her to be happy. Why can’t she just be happy?”

I don’t want to hear anymore. I go into the guest room and lock the door. I crawl under the covers of the bed and turn the TV on. Mindlessly flipping through the channels, I stop when I see The Christmas Story. It’s at one of my favorite parts. When the bully pushes down the younger brother and because of his mega-snowsuit he can’t get up.

My lip quivers as I ready for the line Dad and I used to say to each other when we’d get bundled up for winter in northern Wisconsin. We sometimes had on so many layers it was hard to move.

Then it came: “Randy lay there like a slug … It was his only defense.”

A laugh quickly turns into a sob. I shut the TV off and throw the duvet over my head, burying myself away into a cocoon of sobs and misery.

Paula’s right.

Why can’t I just be happy?

Chapter Forty

Chapter

FORTY

Whenever there was a bad storm at home, my dad and I would walk outside after the clouds would clear and peer into the sky, looking for a rainbow.

“Just remember during a storm, Ally Bean, that light will always follow,” he used to say.

The past few weeks have been a horrible storm for me, but today, today I get a taste of the light.

It’s day fourteen. I get to see Marian and Baxter.

The last time I was at the Tampa airport, my nerves were swirling with panic and uncertainty. There was fear of the media that had swarmed the arrivals gate. There was the insecurity of what was waiting for me once I exited the airport.

Today is different. My stomach is jumpy, but it’s for the excitement of seeing my two best friends.

Paula drove me to the airport. Things between us remain off. Every time I look at her, I see only someone who wishes her daughter were someone else.

“The flight’s landed,” I remark to cut through the silence. Marian’s flight from Chicago is here. I begin to scan the crowds of people coming out past security. It seems to take months before I finally see her dark hair bobbing up and down. I move to get a better look, but before I can wave to her, she sees me and breaks into a sprint.