At the time I thought it was reciprocated.

But, now, when I look back at those nights, I remember how guarded Millie was. Careful. Don’t get me wrong. She did share a lot with me. But not everything. There were always things she kept hidden. Locked away.

I’m sure there are still lots of things I don’t know about her.

At times it makes me sad. Thinking of all the things she was too afraid to share.

As the weeks bled together, I did feel like Millie and I were getting closer. In fact, I kind of felt like I was turning into her. Being stoned or drunk gave me a confidence I never had before. I didn’t feel embarrassed to dance with her out in public. I talked to people I didn’t know. And even flirted with guys occasionally. It was like I’d found the magic potion I’d been searching for.

But as with any magic potion, it came at a price.

19

SATURDAY, 10:00 P.M.
TWENTY-NINE HOURS
AFTER DROP-OFF

THE SKY OUTSIDE the window betrayed how late it was. The phone in Whitney’s lap remained silent. “God, I wish I could go back in time and say no to her spending the night at Lauren’s. I wish I’d kept her here last night, then she’d be home with me right now.”

Smiling, Natalie said, “My mom used to say, ‘If ifs and buts were cherries and nuts, we’d all have a Merry Christmas.’”

“What?” Whitney laughed, and then felt guilty. How could she laugh with Amelia missing?

Natalie gently touched Whitney’s arm. “You can’t go back in time, and it’s pointless to think about what you wish you would’ve done. The only thing you can do now is move forward.”

At Natalie’s words, a memory formed.

Training wheels off. Helmet strapped on.

Amelia’s little light-up shoes resting on the bike pedals. Whitney’s hand gripping the seat.

“Okay, start pedaling,” Whitney instructed. Amelia obeyed, and Whitney ran behind her, holding tightly to the pink banana seat. Amelia white-knuckled the white handlebars, the pink, yellow and white plastic fringe flapping in the breeze.

Once they got a good rhythm going, Whitney said, “Amelia, I’m going to let go, all right?”

“No, Mommy, I can’t do it.”

It was a Saturday and they were in the parking lot of American River College. Not a car in sight. “You can,” Whitney insisted. “Just keep pedaling.”

As Whitney released her grip, Amelia slowed down.

“Nope. Keep pedaling. You can do it. You just gotta keep pedaling.”

Amelia pumped her legs.

“There you go, sweet girl. You’re moving forward.” Whitney clapped, so proud of Amelia as she pedaled through the parking lot, broad smile across her face.

A knock on the door startled them both.

Natalie smiled. “It’s probably Bruce.”