When Poppy returned from her final extended trip to Warrenton, she provided positive updates on how Scott and Lisa and Kimmy were doing. She kept Ryan and Alex busy around the house with tasks and fun plans, and she stuffed them full of comfort food. She scheduled visits for both of them to see a counselor, but Ryan begged out of it, and when Alex realized this was an option, she did the same.

Ryan started college in the fall, and he lived on campus but came home nearly every weekend. Poppy and John worried about him. It seemed strange that Rae’s death had had such a profound impact. Of course it did on all of them, but Ryan seemed the least engaged with the Daly family of any of them, so they were confused by the darkness that seemed to consume him even months later. Sensitive kid. Poppy was relieved when eventually Ryan’s trips home became less frequent, and still more relieved when he introduced them to several new friends from school.

After Rae’s death, Poppy’s nightly negotiations with Death ended. Life was cruel and death certain, and there was nothing to do but accept it; she hadn’t had any say in the matter of her own existence, so what use was there to question or rage against any of the rest of it? On the other hand, it was this same rude bastard of a universe that had brought John into Luigi’s to work on renovations to the patio all those years ago, when the owner of the place easily could have gone with any other construction company and Poppy might have never once in her life laid eyes on the man she was to marry. If there was anything in this lifetime as certain as death, it was Poppy’s love for John. It was maddening, how it gave and took. With a universe like this, how the hell was a reasonable person supposed to believe, or not believe, anything?

John’s back slowly improved with more intensive physical therapy after the trip, and eventually he weaned himself off the pain medication altogether and there was no need for a second surgery. Yet Poppy’s fear of losing him did not diminish. Over time, she accepted the fact that the price for this great love was this great fear. Love’s unfortunate alter ego.

Fear, she came to realize, was utterly enamored with love. Obsessed with it. Vying for its attention, modulating its own particularities to suit love. And love was equally accommodating to fear: creating space, ushering it in, giving it a home, the two of them operating in comparative measure and perfect synchrony, clinging to each other like warm bodies in the night.

25

FOR LISA, SCOTT, and Kimmy, the weeks and months following Rae’s death were like being pressed slowly through a sausage grinder. Mangled. All three came out different.

Scott quit drinking and gambling, cold turkey. Instead, he shopped for groceries and cooked simple meals and took care of logistics around the house. He politely turned away well-intentioned visitors when he could tell Lisa was not up for it. He scheduled appointments for therapy for all three of them. He brought home books and movies on coping with loss and trauma.