Once he’s gone, I check my own phone. Nothing new from Christian. I’m disappointed but also relieved. I tap out a quick message to Lisa, whose message I still hadn’t answered from yesterday.

Hey, girl. I cringe at myself. Getting together sounds great. Quick question. Did you give C.C. my phone number?

She has her read receipts on. A few seconds later, the little bouncing dots tell me she’s replying. Nope. But maybe he got it from the directory they gave out at the reunion? That’s where I got it.

Right, the directory. It was probably still in the goody bag I’d left on the floor of my car. My fingers tap the screen. Mystery solved. When do you want to get together?

Did he text you?

I don’t reply.

Gurrrrrrrl. More emojis, this time of a kissy face.

How about Thursday? I add her contact information to my phone and delete the previous texts.

Lisa might be easy to get into trouble with, but she’s not stupid. She doesn’t mention Christian again, but we work out a time and place to meet up. I get the goody bag from my car and pull out the directory, scanning it for information about Christian.

Unmarried. Lives in California. Undergrad at Kent State, then a med school I’ve never heard of, somewhere in the Caribbean. There’s nothing about him that I don’t already know. The photo of him is from our senior yearbook. He’s laughing, covered in shaving cream from a pep rally. The photo’s been cropped, but I remember the original one. I’d been in the background, wearing all black in stark contrast to the pastels all around me.

A low groan worms out of me. I put a hand on my stomach. Close my eyes. Why does the past have so much power to slaughter us, over and over?

My laptop used to be Eli’s, and compared to the much newer and faster one I bought him in an online estate auction, this one seems to take forever to pull up the internet browser. I type in Christian’s name. Dozens of results pop up, but none of them are my C.C.

I type in another quick search. “Buy prescriptions online.” Results link me to a popular internet forum site I know Eli reads. I click on the link to a post about how to go about buying pills illegally and skim it before my guilt stops me from clicking more links.

I don’t need this.

I want this, but I don’t need it.

A small alert pops up in the upper corner of the forum’s header. Next to it is a username I don’t recognize, but I figure out quickly enough belongs to my son. Eli must not have logged out of his account before giving me the laptop. Curious, I click on the name and bring up the list of forums he follows.

You know how they say never listen at a door because you might hear something you don’t like? I’d say the same goes for looking at your teen son’s forum subscriptions. I’m sure Eli would be mortified to know I’ve seen what he spends so much time looking at. Anime, trending memes, true crime, porn. Quickly, I close out of the tab.