I almost decided not to go, to give it another day, but I knew it wasn’t right to ignore the situation. She was my friend, and I needed to reach out. I had so many regrets when it came to my sister. There were so many times when I should have reached out and didn’t; my guilt propelled me to ignore my anxiety and put on my shoes. Never again.

I told Mark I was walking around the corner and would be back in a bit. As I headed toward the door, Emily asked where I was going.

“Just around the corner for a moment, to Miss Liz’s house,” I said.

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Don’t go.”

I frowned. “I will be back in a few. Dad will put you to bed.”

She shook her head more vigorously. “No. Don’t.”

I patted her on the shoulder. “I will be right back.”

She opened her mouth but then closed it, her eyes wide. I started down the sidewalk, swallowing hard as my nerves began to rev up, telling myself to stop being ridiculous, that she was my friend and there was nothing to be anxious about. Yet as I ducked down under the large crab apple tree that George Simpson refused to prune, the neighborhood suddenly felt much darker, and colder, than ever.

Liz answered the door before I could even press the doorbell. My hand hung in the air, frozen, my pointer finger extended next to the W flag, as she gazed at me coolly.

“Yes?” she said.

I was momentarily speechless. She was wearing a black jumpsuit with long earrings.

“Are you . . . going out?” I said.

“What makes you think that?” she said, her face stone. “I was tired of dressing like a slob every day.” She slowly looked me up and down.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“I—” I stopped when she bent over laughing, her hands on her thighs as she roared. I continued to stare, and she looked up at me, her hair hanging on either side of her face.

“You should see your expression,” she said as she stood up. She exhaled, then brushed her hair back over her shoulders. She steadied. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, sorry. I just wanted to check on you. I was worried and—” I stopped as I saw Carson scamper into the other room behind her. She slowly turned and followed my gaze, before looking back at me expectantly.

“Is there somewhere where we could chat privately?” I said as I crossed my arms over my chest.

She frowned, but then cocked her head to the side and smiled. “Sure. The backyard.”