During the molasses flood, we got stopped behind a blockade of fire trucks, police cars, even an ambulance, though the lights weren't on and the paramedics were outside, standing around with everyone else, shivering. We joined half the town, all of us out of our cars, lined up along the edges of the flow, mesmerized, speechless. Molasses fumes and frigid air stung the inside of my nose. Dogs barked in the distance. I drug my toes, pinched into Andy's old moon boots, across the cold asphalt of the road. The molasses had picked up a worn tennis ball, the soft green fuzz almost glowing against the amber liquid. I felt an urge to grab that tennis ball, to rescue it, but I didn't want to go knee deep into the molasses. Mom shivered, and I did too, imagining myself trapped in the suckery flow, the entire town watching from the sidelines, all of us sick from the fumes, from the inevitable sticky mess.

Our town, Loveland, makes a big deal about Valentine's Day, like it somehow belongs to them, like if you name a place for love, there will be more love there, which is objectively ridiculous. It still happens, a tradition. The Rotary Club sells big red plywood hearts in town every February, and you can pay to have things like Liz and Albert 20 years or I ♥ Tony spray-painted on them in white stencils. Dad didn't get Mom a heart, that year or any year, and I hadn't told her that my boyfriend, Jason Alles, had paid the thirty dollars to get one for me.

“Don't expect anything else,” he had said. “This is Valentine's and your birthday—two birds, one stone.” The heart said Jason + Lottie 4-eva, and the 4-eva part wrapped anxiety like iron chains around my heart. Jason had been my first kiss, New Year's Eve, and now he wanted sex. He'd started out with sweet, declarations of love, I'll take care of you, baby, but the longer I held out, the meaner he got. There's plenty of girls calling me, Lottie, who know a lot more than you. I knew what Mom would say, that I'd invited this, that I'd put myself in this position, that I'd already made myself that kind of girl. Still, I wanted something from her, some pearl of wisdom I could use. I didn't want to give Jason up. Mom was lost in some sort of funk, and Andy was nearly as mean as Dad. Jason's attention came in like high tide just as my family receded. Mom never gave me the language I needed for that moment, and I was too young to learn to speak it on my own.

“Hey Mom,” Andy said, pointing up at my heart, “check out what Lottie's loser boyfriend did.”