I dreamed of June that night. In the dream, I was in the backyard, watching butterflies land on the wildflowers growing next to the house. I sensed my sister’s presence, a movement out of the corner of my eye as she lowered herself into a nearby patio chair. I didn’t turn to look at her, too worried that if I did, she would disappear. She didn’t say anything, just sat next to me. I woke up desperately wishing I had spoken to her.

There were so many things that I still hadn’t been able to do since she died. I had never visited her grave, couldn’t listen to any of her favorite songs or look at pictures from when we were little. I had a box of her things that my parents had given me before they moved to Florida, and it was still taped up in my basement, never opened.

But I wondered if I could face all of that if I could just somehow hear her voice again.

—

I had been sitting in the parking lot of Target for close to ten minutes, trying to find the will to go inside. I took a deep breath, the heat from the afternoon building without the air-conditioning on. I’d left Jack and Emily in Jess’s yard to run errands. It was our unspoken agreement, as we both knew the pain of having to drag kids through a store. I was eternally grateful, and it often felt like we were living together in some kind of common-law shared-wife situation.

I eyed the car that pulled in across from me, a black Yukon XL. There was a 90 percent chance I knew whoever was behind the wheel, as the Winchester Target was less a retail store and more of a watering hole for the local mom wildlife.

It was inevitable that I would run into at least two people I knew. The record was ten conversations, which took me two hours. There was no running in and out to grab a few things. No, Target was a social opportunity, one where you had to look at least decently presentable and be prepared to chat about everything from the latest fundraiser for the school to gossip about how the traveling soccer team’s coach had gotten thrown out of the game for screaming profanities at the referee. If Winchester had an office water cooler, it was squarely inside those red and white walls.

But that’s what I was counting on. I needed volunteers, recruits for the school carnival, and it would be much harder to say no in person.

That morning, I’d pulled out the binder just as Jack walked into my bedroom.