She was seven or eight years old with long, blonde hair. Skinny legs dangled from the hem of her flowered dress. She resembled those pictures I’d seen of my mother as a child—pretty. So much prettier than I had been.

The little girl swiveled back and forth as Merilee stood between us watching with a stupid grin. In the silence, I became aware of the far-off sound of breaking waves. I felt nauseous, dizzy, way too stoned. From the door of another room, a tall woman appeared wrapped in a rust-colored, tie-dyed sarong. She pulled apart the dark strands of her wet hair with a wide pink comb. My first thought was, Oh good, I made a mistake, and this is that little girl’s mother. But I knew she wasn’t.

The woman smiled at me. “How’s everybody doin’?” she said, overfriendly.

My mother nodded to the little girl who walked over to me and from behind her brought a lei made from white flowers. “These are for you,” she said in a rehearsed tone.

I froze.

“Bend down, Jacqueline,” my mother coaxed.

The little girl lifted on bare tiptoes, put the flowers around my neck, and kissed me on the cheek. My mother floated over and put an arm around my shoulders. I knew what she was about to say, and I didn’t want to hear it.

“Jacqueline, meet your sister, Mirabelle.”

Mirabelle. Another rotten name.

Moments went by while I stood, sweat pouring down my back, just staring at the three of them. They wore matching grins and seemed to be waiting for me to do something, but I was paralyzed. The lei itched my neck and it smelled so perfumey I thought I might throw up, but I didn’t dare remove it for fear of hurting the girl’s…that is to say, my sister’s feelings. So, this was my birthday surprise.

“And this is my friend, Bea,” my mother proclaimed of the woman with the wet hair.

Bea leaped forward and extended a hand, but my arms stayed glued to my sides. Undeterred she looped her arm around my shoulder declaring, “I think Jackie needs to sit down.”

I filed away points for her calling me Jackie and let her guide me to the futon. My legs trembled as I bent to sit. Bea brought me a glass of water and I drank it fast, trying to push through the cloud of pot in my head. Food would bring me down.

“I need something to eat,” I said.

“Munchies, honey?” my mother said.

Oh, shut up, Merilee, I said to myself, pinching my lips together so the words couldn’t escape. Just fucking shut up and die.

“Bea, do we have any food prepared?” my mother trilled.

“We have Jackie’s birthday cake,” said little Mirabelle.

Oh, goody, my birthday cake. I was reeling.