Admittedly, completing Judy’s bucket list so that she could get to Mark sooner wasn’t the only reason she agreed to drive Dylan across country. She was lonely. But she still didn’t want Mark to accompany her, she thought guiltily, twisting the bulky engagement ring back and forth. She and Mark had history. Dylan was a clean slate. He wouldn’t judge. There was nothing to forgive. And when they did part ways, there was nothing to lose. No one would get hurt.

A family of three at a square table beside hers drew her attention. A young girl with blonde hair picked at her hamburger. Her parents sat on either side, gazes on their plates and not each other. Across from her, an empty seat, as if a piece of the family was missing. Their unit incomplete, broken. They reminded Joy of her family.

Joy dreaded dinnertime during the weeks following the accident. She hated staring at the empty space across the table. Every night she had to face her costly mistake while picking at her food because she couldn’t taste her meal. The taste of shame and guilt overpowered the flavors of every casserole their neighbors dropped off.

“Please eat,” her mom had begged.

Joy heard her mom’s worry. She was wasting away. But the thought of food soured her stomach.

“Leave her alone, Jen.” Joy’s dad picked apart the layers of spinach lasagna. He couldn’t eat either.

“I’m not going to leave her alone,” her mom argued. “She’s not eating because she’s grieving. We’re all grieving for Judy, but keeping it bottled up only makes our grief worse. It robs us of our appetites and steals our sleep.” She laid a hand over Joy’s and looked her in the eye. “Grief builds and compounds and if we’re not careful, it can break us.”

Joy looked down at her mom’s hand. So did guilt.

“Please, sweetheart, talk to us,” her mom begged.

“What’s there to talk about?” her dad interrupted. “Judy drove while drunk. She broke the law and disobeyed my direct order. Both kids did. I said, ‘no passengers.’ I never should have bought that car.” He shoved his plate away and stood. “I’ll be in my study.”

“Doing what? It’s dinnertime.”

“We have a couple hundred grand of college funding sitting in our accounts. We need to reinvest that.”

“Now?” her mom exclaimed. “We’ll use it for Joy. Please, sit down and eat.” She pushed his plate back.

“Joy isn’t going to college, not with her grades.”

Joy flinched, the verbal slap a reminder that she’d never be as good as Judy in their eyes. Her dad left the kitchen, and a moment later, a door slammed.

Her mom touched her shoulder. “He didn’t mean that, honey. He’s just sad about Judy. We all are.”