Page 11

The doorbell rang, startling me.

“That should be the removal company.” He leaped up to answer the front door but returned moments later with a bundle of letters and a package.

“Just the post. Here, some letters and cards for you. I’ve had the post redirected from your parents’ address. That’s why we didn’t get any on Friday…” His voice faded and his brow furrowed as he examined the pile of letters, and panicked eyes suddenly whipped to mine.

Numb stepped aside and dread spawned in my stomach. “What?”

“It’s your birthday,” he whispered.

My birthday. My birthday? The words swirled through my head as I tried to make sense of them.

“Your seventeenth birthday. It’s today.”

“Please. No, don’t,” I begged, shaking my head as the volume of the white noise rose and rose, deafening me.

I can’t deal with this.

Birthdays were family occasions. My equilibrium wobbled then crumbled to dust as the weight of my loss gripped my chest and squeezed tears into my eyes.

No, not this. Not this now.

Dylan took one look at my face and held up one of his hands. “Okay, let’s think of something else.” His tone was urgent and his watery image glimmered as my eyes filled.

“I think I need to be busy. I don’t want to break down.” I sounded hoarse as I pushed the words past the growing lump in my throat.

My birthday. I was supposed to go shopping with Mum… No! They were going to give me driving lessons!

“Right. We’ll decorate that room.”

Mummy.

“Today.” Dylan dumped the post on the table and clapped his hands, startling me.

What? Decorating? Today?

“Oh,” I whispered.

Darling, we’ll go shopping for new clothes, then you can go to the cinema with your friends, and afterward, we’ll all go out to eat. Yes? My mother’s voice echoed through my head.

“Unless you want a good cry?” he whispered.

I shook my head in a panic. If I broke down, I didn’t know if I could put myself back together.

“Okay.” Dylan ran a hand through his hair and grabbed a jacket from the back of his chair. “Let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping?” I didn’t realize I’d said the word out loud.

“Yes. Paint, furniture, pictures. We need the lot.”

His image cleared as my tears receded.

Decorating? I tested the word again, and it distracted me from the pain.

“We’ll do it. Today.” His face was a picture of patience and compassion as I stared at him blankly. “Do you have any idea what you’d like to do?”

What? I’ll have to make decisions!

Am I up to this?