We had started the movie/wine (well, tequila, beer, wine, whatever) nights the previous fall, when we were all forced to attend our school’s curriculum night. All of us had kids in first grade, and we huddled in a corner, trying to avoid the PTA moms with clipboards, signing up volunteers for class parties. Melissa had whispered that she needed a drink, and we all nodded furiously. Three hours later, we were in her gleaming kitchen, next to her Viking range, drinking too much and laughing too loud. On the way out, before I stepped onto her expansive front porch, I turned and said, “We should make this a monthly tradition.”

We had found each other, at first banded together by the fact that we all seemed to be on the edges of wanting to be in suburbia. We wore the costume of suburban moms, yet it only covered us on the outside like a camouflage, just enough to hide the parts that didn’t belong. Then, after we got to know each other, we were bound by true friendship and love for one another. And a lot of laughter.

“C’mon, everyone. Let’s go pick out a movie to watch.” Liz gestured for us to follow her down to her basement, to the leather sectional where Jess had spilled a rare whiskey at the Super Bowl party as I shamelessly inhaled queso dip and pigs in a blanket.

“Amy, hon, it’s your turn to pick,” Liz said in an encouraging, motherly tone.

We rotated who chose the movie, usually landing on a mid-to-late nineties or early-2000s classic. Last time, we’d watched 10 Things I Hate About You, cheering for Heath Ledger as he serenaded Julia Stiles on the field.

I flipped through the romantic comedy movie selections, noting we had watched nearly all of them. Rather than a rewatch, I had a thought. “What about something different, like a scary movie?” I laughed when I saw their faces. “C’mon, everyone. I was a serious horror movie fan as a teenager. Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, the Jason movies, all of it.” I held up my hand as I ticked away a few more. “I’d much rather watch a fictional horror than a realistic tearjerker where someone’s husband dies. Real life is much more traumatic than anything on-screen.”

There was a pregnant pause in the room as everyone remained silent. They knew I didn’t want to talk about my sister that night—or any night, for that matter.