Whitney scrolled through the band pictures, the lead singer shirtless and often holding a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Her stomach twisted as she tried to picture the kind of boy who would make this singer his Snapchat handle.

An image appeared in her mind, and she realized she’d once known that boy.

17

SIX WEEKS
BEFORE DROP-OFF

WHITNEY HAD WANTED to throw a party for Amelia’s sixteenth birthday. She’d been imagining it for months, pinning fun ideas to her Pinterest account—mason jars filled with colorful candy, pink fizzy punch drinks in champagne flutes with bows on the stems, a fancy charcuterie board, an array of healthy salads. Whitney had even secured use of the pool at their apartment for the Saturday after Amelia’s birthday, thinking it would be the perfect spot to celebrate.

When she brought it up to Amelia, she assumed she’d be elated. Instead, she immediately shot down the idea.

“Mom, I’m not turning six. I don’t want a pool party.”

Whitney was surprised, and honestly, a little embarrassed. She hadn’t considered that maybe a pool party would be childish. “Well, I mean, you don’t have to swim. I thought we could make it fancy.” She proceeded to share her Pinterest ideas with Amelia, who wrinkled her nose in response.

“Candy and punch by the pool? You’re right, Mom. That doesn’t sound childish at all.”

Well, when you put it that way.

“Okay,” Whitney said, seeing the error of her ways. “We don’t have to have it by the pool. We can maybe do it at the warehouse. I’m sure Natalie won’t mind. I can move our inventory to the side, decorate it real cool. It’s an awesome space.”

Amelia shook her head. “I don’t want to have it at your work.”

“I guess we could rent out space at a restaurant,” Whitney spoke slowly, in her mind already calculating the cost.

“Or we could just have dinner at a restaurant.”

“You mean, no party?”

“Yeah.” Amelia nodded. “I’m just not really feeling a party this year.”

A few weeks before Amelia turned eight, Whitney received a call from a parent of a girl in Amelia’s class, saying she was RSVPing for Amelia’s birthday party. Since Whitney hadn’t planned a birthday party for Amelia, she was confused.

Apparently, Amelia had made and passed out her own invitations. All without Whitney being privy to it.

As more RSVPs flooded in, Whitney realized she had no choice but to throw the party, even if she would have to scramble to have it ready in time.

Amelia’s birthday was something she generally looked forward to all year, and in Whitney’s experience, she had always been “feeling” a party. What had changed?

“Is this because of what happened with you and Becca?” she asked her daughter.