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“Who’s that?” Eleanor asked, leaning over before Monique could whip pastallthe photos of Maurice. “He’s handsome.”

There were too many photos of him. She hadn’t realized until now. His profile against the ocean. His hands on the boat railing. His face in the bioluminescent water, lit from below like something holy.

“Handsome, you say?” Tedrow’s eyes found hers in the rearview mirror.

“Very.” Eleanor’s reconstruction scars gave her an exaggerated lisp as she shoulder-checked Monique, chuckling. “But Mo’s being all mysterious.”

“Do tell,” Dr. Tedrow said.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Monique said, trying to pull her camera from Eleanor’s hands.

“Then why are there”—Eleanor turned her body away from Monique in a game of back seat keep away—“like a hundred pictures of thisnothing?”

Tedrow chuckled. “Sounds like something to me.”

“Can we not?” Monique’s voice came out harsher than intended. “We have to bury our friend today, and I don’t really wanna talk about a man I barely know who lives a thousand miles away and will forget me in a week.”

Silence filled the car.

The retreat came immediately, and she hated it.

“I’m sorry,” Monique said quietly. “I shouldn’t have snapped.” She turned to the window and Chicago’s gray, early morning sky. “This is hard, but I’m glad we’re together.”

“It’s okay.” Eleanor handed back the camera and squeezed her hand.

Nobody said anything else.

The beach was brutal. Wind came off the lake like knives, cutting through her wool trench like it was tissue paper. The group gathered in a small cluster—Dr. T, Eleanor, James, Patricia, David. Hailey had texted she couldn’t make it, like Dr. T had mentioned. Too sick.

Monique’s skin prickled. She told herself it was just the cold.

They stood in a circle. Tedrow said words about Chickie. About her joy, her fight, her refusal to let cancer dim her light. Everyone shared memories. Eleanor cried. James held her. Monique stayed silent.

What was there to say? That Chickie had been twenty-eight and shouldn’t be dead? That she’d fought her whole life and it hadn’t mattered? That all their positive thinking and medical advances and support groups couldn’t stop cells from multiplying in the wrong direction? That love wasn’t enough?

“Monique?” Tedrow’s voice was gentle. “Anything you want to share?”

She looked at the gray water, the gray sky, the gray faces around her. Everything was grayed in a way that felt artificial. “She made me promise to be happy,” Monique heard herself say. “In Puerto Rico. She called and told me not to come home early. To stay. To be happy.” Her voice cracked. “I tried. I really did try.”

Nobody said anything. The sun and the wind rose over the lake. They all just stood there. Together.

CHAPTER 25Monique

The synagogue rose like a fortress, dark wood panels climbing toward heaven. Monique sat in the front pew flanked by Eleanor and Dr. Tedrow. The room, overflowing with mourners, was quiet. Grief filled in all the empty spaces and expanded.

All around were giant posters of Chickie throughout her life. Her smile, broad and real, was identical to the one Monique knew and sometimes avoided. This girl loved her life, and that shamed folk. It shamed Monique. This girl had loved life, had embraced every moment even as her body betrayed her.

The cantor stood. “Those of us who knew Charlotte understand that she embodied the term ‘unconventional.’Zichrona livracha. May her memory be for a blessing. So, before we close our time together, she asked that I share this song with you. Will you allow our beloved this one last wish?”

Watery chuckles and affirmative voices filled the air.

The cantor cleared her throat before filling the sanctuary with the gentle tones of an acoustic guitar and a smooth alto voice. Monique didn’t know Hebrew, but she understood the song’s meaning.

Peace to the mourning. Let their memory be a blessing.

She strummed the last note and transitioned into a prayer. Monique could make out Chickie’s name woven into the melody. Turning the program over, she found the translation.

May God remember the soul of Charlotte Rachel Levinson who has gone to her eternal rest. May her soul be bound up in the bond of eternal life. May she rest in peace. And let us say: Amen.