Whatever Will Be: A Novel

By Vickie Jarman

April is a devoted young wife and mother, working hard to care for her five-year-old daughter and support her husband Ben's newly-launched community college career.

Ellen is a bored high school senior, wondering when she will finally get to experience the "more to life" that she knows is out there somewhere.

April and Ellen's paths are on an un

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Fisher
• Release date: Sep 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9798218055301

Vickie Jarman

For more from this author, visit www.vickiejarmanbooks.com.

Book preview

April

Natalie leaned forward over her lavender-frosted birthday cake and closed her eyes.

Make a wish, Nat! April said, standing behind her daughter, her hand on Natalie’s shoulder. Natalie took a deep breath, her face glowing by the light of the five flickering flames. She pursed her lips, paused—April thought she probably wished for a unicorn—and blew, instantly extinguishing all five candles. Natalie’s friends cheered, while her cousin Matt looked bored.

April carried the cake to the kitchen counter to cut it, then she and her sister, Noelle, served the cake and scoops of Neapolitan ice cream on lavender plates to Natalie and her friends. Matt scraped all the frosting off the piece he was served, ate two bites and all his ice cream, left the rest on his plate and ducked out with Natalie’s dad, Ben, to the indoor mini-golf course. April silently hoped none of the girls—especially Josie, who tended to be clumsy—dropped her cake and stained their new carpet. April and Ben squabbled with their landlord for over a year to have the old, dingy, pet-stained and threadbare carpet replaced, and he finally agreed. The new carpet was installed less than a month ago, and April diligently made sure nothing got spilled on it.

After some of the cake and most of the ice cream were devoured, and the gifts torn open and gushed over, the girls huddled in Natalie’s room while Noelle swept chocolate cake crumbs off the kitchen floor and April wrapped the paper plates covered with half-eaten pieces of cake and soupy ice cream and half-full cups of milk in the paper tablecloth and carted it all to the garbage container outside their duplex. The mess largely contained, the sisters leaned against the kitchen counter, surveying the scene and catching their breath.

It was a great party, Noelle said. Simple but fun. Where did you find all the purple stuff?

"It’s not purple, it’s lavender." April rolled her eyes and laughed. I found it all at an online party supply store, and it wasn’t expensive. Having the party here was much cheaper than the party at the children’s museum Natalie begged me to have. How do you get away with not doing this for Matt?

Bribery, Noelle said, straight-faced, then she sighed. You know groups make him anxious, even when they’re all his friends. He’s never asked for a party, so we’ve never thrown one. I like the small family parties we have better anyway.

April nodded in agreement and smiled weakly at Noelle, as if she knew what her sister was thinking. Matt was a weird kid, awkward and serious, and they both knew it. It seems like he’s getting better.

Noelle shrugged. Sometimes, she said flatly, and it was clear to April they would not discuss it further. Noelle turned and lifted the remainder of the birthday cake on its cardboard platform and carefully placed it back in its pink bakery box. Can you believe she’s five?

"She’s not five, April said, feigning shock. It’s not possible. She’s two. Right?" April laughed as she poked around in the freezer, looking for a place to stash the leftover ice cream. She shoved aside a half-full bag of tater tots and slid the ice cream carton next to it.

Noelle laughed too. You never get over that, she said. Sometimes I wish Matt was still two. Everything was easier then.

You think so? I think it’s much easier now that Natalie’s a real little person and not just a screaming ball of want. Besides, if Matt were still two, you’d have to potty train him again.

Noelle groaned. You’re right. That was awful the first time, she said. Maybe it seemed easier because Mark was still alive.

April smiled sympathetically at her sister. I know you miss him, she said. You won’t always be alone. April wiped down the table and placed the basket of silk flowers in its usual spot in the center.

I know, Noelle said, shrugging. I actually have a date tonight.

April raised her eyebrows. You do? That’s great! Noelle only recently started dating again after being widowed two years before. April tried to initiate conversation after each one of Noelle’s dates, but Noelle shut her down immediately, indicating to April they hadn’t gone well. She was surprised Noelle volunteered information about this date.

Noelle nodded. Matt’s staying overnight with a friend.

Is it someone we know?

My date? Or the boy who gets the pleasure of Matt’s company? Noelle laughed at her own joke and shook her head. You don’t know him.

Does it seem promising? Where did you meet him?

So many questions! Noelle said faking annoyance. He’s the uncle of one of the kids we met when Matt had Saturday bowling last fall. He seems nice, and I’ve been putting him off for a while. I’m not sure he’s my type.

He might surprise you.

Maybe he will, Noelle said but sounded skeptical.

Thirty minutes later, their duplex was clean—except for Natalie’s room—and all Natalie’s friends had been rounded up by their parents. Fifteen minutes after that, Natalie slept soundly in her untidy room—an unexpected and uncharacteristic nap April was grateful for. In the kitchen, April poured two cups of coffee and sat with Noelle at the table to wait for Matt and Ben.

They’ve been gone for a while, Noelle said, checking the time. Ben will be sorry he missed most of the party.

April giggled as she spooned sweetener into her coffee. Yeah, he will! He loves it when the little girls fawn all over him. But I’m sure he enjoyed his time with Matt.

I’m sure Matt enjoyed it too, Noelle said. Much more than he would have enjoyed the party.

Do you want me to call Ben to see when they’ll be back?

Noelle shook her head. That’s not necessary. I’m sure Matt’s killing him on the course.

Only because Ben lets the kids win.

He totally does, Noelle agreed. But let them have fun. It’s probably their last chance to hang out for a while since Ben starts classes soon.

Monday, April said. Ben and April had been saving for each of them to go to college since Natalie was born, since April’s pregnancy derailed both of their college careers. They finally scraped together enough for Ben to take a few classes at the community college. He’s so excited about going to school. I’m a little less excited, since it will be one more thing to keep him busy and away from home.

How many classes is he taking?

Three, April said, holding up three fingers for emphasis. It’s not full time, but it’s still a huge commitment. He’s worried about the workload and our finances, though I think we’ve saved and planned as best we can. April took a sip from her cup and decided her coffee needed more sweetener. She added another teaspoonful and stirred it. I’m glad one of us is finally able to go. I wish we could go together! But it’s easier to manage if we go one at a time.

You’ll get your chance, Noelle said and followed it up with an expression borrowed from their long-departed paternal grandmother: Whatever will be.

April looked wistful. I know I will. I went with him last week to pay the fees, and we were in line with a bunch of babies! I swear they weren’t much older than Natalie.

At least he’ll have age on his side. What’s the expression about having more wisdom with age?

April looked over her cup at Noelle and raised her eyebrows. You must be really wise then.

Noelle, six years older than April, pretended to be insulted. Wisdom is all you have to look forward to, little sister, since it’s obvious your looks are shot.

This time, April pretended to be insulted, and the sisters laughed.

The front door slammed, and Ben—tall with dark, wavy hair and the same hazel eyes as Natalie—entered the kitchen with Matt close behind, playfully arguing about the outcome of their mini-golf game.

You knocked it into the fountain! That’s an automatic one-stroke penalty you didn’t take, Matt said as Ben reached into the refrigerator for a can of soda he handed to Matt and grabbed a second for himself.

You won, Ben pointed out. I don’t know why you’re still arguing about it.

Noelle and April exchanged knowing glances before cracking up again.

Ben looked at his wife and her sister, who were stifling giggles. What’s all the laughing about?

April stood and kissed her husband. Nothing. Noelle and I were teasing each other about her advanced age and my absence of good looks.

Ben chuckled and kissed April on the forehead. You look pretty good to me.

Ew, Matt said, looking away and grimacing, gross.

The adults laughed again. Noelle put her arm around Matt’s waist and pulled him close to her. She kissed him on the cheek, and he pulled away slightly. You beat Uncle Ben again? Noelle asked.

Yep, Matt said. But he’s trying to say it was a tie.

"It was a tie," Ben said, winking at Noelle.

Ellen

Ellen shared a birthday with Natalie Hamilton, though neither of them knew it yet. Ellen turned eighteen the day Natalie turned five, and suddenly she was an adult. She expected some kind of miraculous change to occur when she turned eighteen, some newfound maturity, a revised outlook on the world, finally being let in on some secret knowledge all adults in her orbit seemed to possess. She expected to feel older anyway.

But she didn’t feel older, or more mature, or in possession of secret knowledge, or even like anything changed, except for the bright blue streak she’d dyed into a chunk of her hair in front of her left ear that morning.

Ellen loved her birthday since she was a little kid and had several birthday parties not unlike the one the Hamiltons were hosting for Natalie at the moment Ellen slouched on the couch in her family room, staring blankly at the television screen.

For her seventeenth birthday, her longtime friend and then-boyfriend, Brody, saved some money he’d earned mowing lawns during the summer and fall, combined it with a little of his Christmas money and a fifty his mom slipped him, and took her to a fancy restaurant where their dinner was served in courses with sherbet in-between, and instead of the staff singing some corny, out-of-tune birthday song, she’d been serenaded by a solo violin.

It had been an unusually cloudless night for late January, and after dinner Brody drove twenty minutes outside of town to the country so they could look at the stars. She made love with him for the first time in the backseat of his car, which Ellen knew both then and now was horribly cliche but much more romantic than she thought it could be.

When Brody took her home afterward, he kissed her gently on the lips and whispered in her ear, I will love you forever.

Forever lasted nine months.

I still love you, Ellen, Brody told her three months ago, in late October. I always will. But I think it’s time to end this. He didn’t look at her while he said it.

Ellen immediately burst into tears. I love you too. So much. I don’t understand! Why are you doing this? she sobbed.

"Ellen. This is senior year. We only get one shot at this and everything we do matters. I—we—should really be concentrating on our classes without any distractions."

Ellen was mortified. Is that what I am? A distraction?

I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Brody looked at the steering wheel, not at Ellen. They’d gone to a movie and since it ended early and it was a beautiful fall evening, afterward Ellen suggested a walk in the park. Brody declined. He’d been distant and aloof all night, and in that second Ellen knew why. From where she sat in the passenger seat of Brody’s beat-up old Mustang, parked in the driveway in front of her house, she could see her little brother, Damon, peeking at them though the living room curtains. She leaned over and tapped the horn. Damon’s face disappeared.

Brody took a deep breath. Ellen, you knew this was going to happen eventually. We aren’t going to the same college. We didn’t even apply to any of the same schools. We never talked about being long-distance, and I don’t want that, anyway. I don’t think you do, either. You didn’t expect us to stay together, did you?

I don’t know. Like you just said, we never discussed it! It’s not too late, Ellen said, still crying. You could apply to some of my schools.

And you could apply to some of mine.

We both know I can’t get into any of those schools.

They sat in awkward silence. Both of them knew what Ellen said was true. She was every bit as smart as Brody but hadn’t applied herself half as well, except in English. Ellen excelled in English.

You see, Ellen? Brody said finally. We would have to break up anyway.

Brody, look at me. For the first time since he parked the car Brody turned to face her but didn’t take his hands off the steering wheel. Why does it have to be now? Can’t we stay together until prom? Or the summer? Or until we leave? Ellen knew she was begging but didn’t care.

No, Ellen, Brody said firmly. I’m sorry. When we’re both drowning in schoolwork and barely have time for anything else, you’ll see this is for the best.

Brody, Ellen whispered. Please. I love you. Don’t do this to me.

The porch light flashed off, then on again—Ellen’s mother’s signal it was time for them to come inside. Ellen knew it was her mom’s way of trying to keep her from making out with Brody in the car in the driveway where anyone could see them. Ellen knew her mother would lose her shit if she knew she and Brody had been having sex regularly for almost a year, sometimes in this car in the driveway in front of her house, as her mom flipped the porch light on and off. Twice they’d done it on the couch in the family room while her mother and brother were upstairs in their bedrooms.

You’d better go in before Glory blows a gasket, Brody said, turning back toward the steering wheel and starting the car.

Come in with me, please, so we can talk.

There’s nothing more to say, Ellen. I’m sorry. I really am. But this is what I want.

Ellen nodded. You really don’t want to be with me anymore. It was a statement, not a question.

No.

Ellen sobbed. Brody didn’t budge. The lights flashed again.

Ellen.

Ellen pulled a tissue out of her purse and wiped her face. I’m going. She checked her face in the mirror on the visor. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she hoped she could get in the house and to her room without seeing her mother or Damon. She didn’t want them to see she’d been crying. Especially her mom, who would have questions Ellen didn’t know how to answer.

She turned to face Brody. At least give me one more kiss?

Brody stared straight ahead. No, Ellen.

Fine. Ellen sighed and bolted from the car. She trotted to the front door, stepped into the house and closed the door hard behind her as another sob escaped. She heard Brody pull out of the driveway, drive down the street and out of her life. He didn’t even say he still wanted to be friends. She’d known him her whole life—their moms had met in the pediatrician’s office when they were both infants, hers a clueless, overwhelmed single mom and Brody’s a veteran with three boys under five. Ellen wasn’t sure she knew how to live in a world where she didn’t talk to Brody Davis at least once every day.

Ellen, Glory Abernathy called from the kitchen, is Brody with you?

No, Mom, Ellen cleared her throat and hoped it didn’t sound like she’d been crying. He, uh, had to go home. She would explain what happened later, after she made some sense of it herself.

It’s still early! Is everything okay?

Yeah, Mom. Everything’s fine, Ellen lied.

Do you want something for dessert?

Ellen’s stomach lurched at the thought of food; she thought she might even lose the popcorn she’d eaten during the movie. No thanks, she called. I’m really tired. I’m going to bed. Ellen heard a chair slide across the kitchen floor, and she dashed up the stairs and into her room before her mom could stop her.

Ellen crept into bed and cried herself into a fitful sleep, waking a short time later. As she tossed and turned for the rest of that night—dozing every now and then but not sleeping in a way that could be considered restful—she concluded Brody made a mistake. He must have. It was the only explanation that made sense. He would realize it in the morning, call her to apologize, and they would get back together. Or he would come over, admit his mistake and apologize, and they would get back together. Ellen ran both of these scenarios through her head, over and over, until the early morning hours.

Neither of those things happened.

Instead, Ellen got up after ten, still sleepy, and sat at the kitchen table with her family while they ate a late breakfast; Ellen just pushed her food around her plate with her fork and deflected her mom’s concerned questions. After breakfast, Ellen and Damon took their elderly neighbor’s dog for a walk. When they turned the corner from their street—the same way Brody left the night before—Ellen sighed. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and Damon saw it before Ellen could wipe it away.

What’s the matter, Ellen? Damon asked, gentler than he usually was where Ellen was concerned. You’ve been acting weird since you came home last night.

For a brief moment, Ellen contemplated lying but didn’t. Brody broke up with me, she said, watching her feet as they walked down the sidewalk. It was the first time she said it out loud, and every word stabbed her in the heart.

Damon didn’t ask why. He didn’t try to tell her it would be okay. He switched the leash from one hand to the other and took Ellen’s hand in his free one. Well, he’s dumb, he said simply. You’re pretty and smart and funny.

Thanks, Damon, she said, squeezing his hand.

It’s true, Damon said, and they walked silently around their neighborhood, holding hands.

Since that night, Brody kept his distance. Ellen hoped staying away from her was harder than he made it seem; they didn’t have any classes together, and he’d found somewhere else to be at the times they used to hang out—before school, at lunch and after school. She ran into him in the halls several times and tried to start a conversation, but he brushed her off. She waved when she saw him, but he pretended not to see her. She called once, but the call went to voice mail, and she didn’t leave a message. She texted and didn’t receive a response. So even though she missed him, still wanted him in her life, she gave up and let go. I can ignore him as well as he can ignore me, she thought. Letting go does not mean loving less.

Brody was right about one thing—Ellen had more free time, but she wasn’t spending it on schoolwork. Her grades were fine; she wasn’t worried about any of them. She read a lot, wrote in her journal, and watched a lot of movies. Her mom encouraged her to pick up a hobby but nothing she suggested appealed to Ellen. Ultimately, she had learned to live without Brody and enjoy being on her own. Sort of.

Ellen pondered all this as she lounged alone in the family room on her birthday, her back at an angle common to teenagers that she was sure would cause her mom to admonish her to Sit up straight! A movie she’d seen a hundred times played on the television screen, but she barely noticed. It was Saturday afternoon, it was her eighteenth birthday, and the most exciting plan she could come up with was to see a movie with Jody, then have dinner with her mom and Damon. She didn’t care about either.

The doorbell rang. She heaved herself off the couch and plodded to the front door. She had to bend over a bit to look through the peephole, as her mom instructed her to since she was a small girl and needed to stand on a stool to see through it. Jody’s distorted image appeared in the small, round hole.

Let me in, Ellen! Jody yelled, pounding on the door. I can hear you behind the door! Ellen threw open the door, and Jody stormed in. They looked carefully at Ellen, then picked up the blue streak in her hair. They had to reach up to do it. When did you do this?

This morning, Ellen said, watching Jody finger her hair out of the corner of her eye.

Why blue? Jody asked.

Ellen shrugged. Matched my mood, she thought. Do you like it?

Jody dropped Ellen’s hair, and Ellen tucked it behind her ear. It’s cool, I guess, Jody said. I’m not used to it yet. Why did you do it?

For a change. Nothing else has changed lately.

Jody nodded as if they understood. Ready to go?

I’ve just got to grab my purse, Ellen said.

Do it fast, before your mom catches wind that I’m here, Jody said.

Is that Jody? Glory said from the top of the stairs.

Too late, Ellen said. Jody rolled their eyes, and Ellen laughed. She passed her mother on the way up the stairs to her room. She found her purse under the pile of sweatshirts she tried on that morning. None of them looked like an eighteen-year-old’s sweatshirt. Maybe it’s not the clothes. Maybe it’s me. She thought she might use the money her grandparents sent for her birthday to buy some new clothes.

She went back to the living room, where she found her mother laughing at something Jody said. Ellen put on her best fake smile. I’m ready. Let’s go!

April

April and Noelle’s mother, Moira, was a large and largely disagreeable woman, with loud and objectionable opinions she wasn’t shy about sharing. No one who knew their family was surprised when Moira’s husband went out to buy ice cream one hot summer day and never returned. It was surprising that he also left his two daughters, then eight and fourteen, who—by all accounts—he doted on. Neither April nor Noelle ever heard from him again. Moira received regular money orders she assumed were from him, cashed each one, complaining bitterly about it from the time the envelope arrived in the mail until the money was spent.

After her husband’s sudden and heartbreaking departure, Moira turned her considerable bitterness, ire, and constant criticism toward her daughters. She chastised them about their clothes and makeup, their friends and boyfriends, their classes and school activities, the books they read and what they watched on TV, and how they spent their free time. Noelle turned eighteen and graduated from high school, and twelve-year-old April feared she would move out of the home they shared with their mother at her earliest opportunity, leaving April to face and deflect Moira on her own.

Noelle didn’t move out, though she secretly wanted to but would never tell April that. Noelle couldn’t leave April. Instead, Noelle enrolled at the local university and lived at home and—as much as possible—buffered the tense interactions between April and Moira, whose fights were becoming neighborhood legend. Moira could be especially cruel to April, who was a lot like her father and pushed back against much of what Moira said. When it was particularly awful between them, April would creep into Noelle’s bed and as she cried, Noelle would rub her back and say, We’re in this together. Never forget that.

Noelle had started her first permanent teaching job and was in the earliest stages of planning her wedding to Mark, and April a senior in high school when Moira went to sleep one night and didn’t wake up. The proceeds from her life insurance covered a small funeral, which only a handful of people—mostly her extended family—attended. Noelle and April mourned their loss, of course, but were also relieved.

After the funeral, there was some discussion among that same extended family about what should happen with April. Should she live with one of them? Were any of them willing to take in a bright, headstrong teenaged girl? Should they try to locate their father, Martin? An aunt Noelle and April never met before the funeral said she might know where he was. Noelle would hear none of it. She and Mark abandoned their plans for a modest wedding and got married at city hall, with only April and Mark’s parents in attendance. Noelle and Mark sold Moira’s house and used that money, plus what they saved for their wedding, and bought a small house for all of them.

April, who was most accurately described as mousy and cute rather than beautiful, took a gap year after high school, and it was at the end of that year she found herself quite taken with the handsome new stockboy and clerk at the family-owned hardware store she frequented with Noelle and Mark. He introduced himself as Bennett Hamilton, tipped April a wink, and she was never the same.

Ben had recently moved to town and didn’t know many people, so April offered to show him around. He shared a cramped apartment with four other guys, worked at the hardware store to save money for college and hoped to have enough to start in another year or two. His parents were abusive and kicked him out when he graduated high school; he moved as far away from them as he could financially afford to get and only spoke to or about them when absolutely necessary. April was immediately drawn to this boy, whose stories of his parents reminded her so much of what she and Noelle endured with Moira. They became fast friends but quickly their relationship evolved to much more than friendship.

April worked off and on—mostly off—while Noelle and Mark supported her until she got pregnant and married Ben. April and Noelle were so afraid of becoming like their mother that they each took extra care not to treat their children as callously and carelessly as they had been treated, though worries about her relationship with Natalie kept April up at night more frequently as Natalie got older. She worried about slipping into the other side of that familiar pattern, and it would fit far too comfortably.

All of these thoughts tumbled around inside April’s head the evening of Natalie’s birthday. She watched from the doorway of Natalie’s bedroom as Ben climbed onto the narrow twin bed beside his daughter. The little girl snuggled next to her father and told him how much she loved the decorations at her party. Mom says they didn’t even cost that much! She told him about her presents and confided she liked the card game Lucy gifted her the best. Natalie described, in painstaking detail, the rules of the game, including how she beat her friends the first time she played, even though they’d all played before. Ben listened attentively and asked thoughtful questions. Natalie asked if Ben would play the game with her the following day.

I’m working tomorrow, Sweet Pea, Ben said. But we can play when I get home.

Satisfied, Natalie picked up the book they were reading, and Ben read to her, pointing out words he knew Natalie knew, working with her through a sentence or two on her own on every page. April watched and listened, her heart overflowing with love for both of them.

When they finished the chapter, Ben placed a bookmark where they’d left off and closed the book. I think that’s enough for tonight, Pumpkin. Five-year-old girls need a lot of beauty sleep, he said. He kissed Nat once on each cheek and once on the tip of her nose, and she giggled.

I’m sorry I didn’t get to have any cake, Ben said, pulling the covers up to Natalie’s chin. I’m sure it was delicious.

"It was good. There’s some leftover. You could have some for dessert before you go to bed. I bet Mommy would like some too. I don’t think she ate any at my party."

Ben laughed and looked at April, who smiled and shook her head. I bet you’re right, he said.

It was a fun party, but I’m glad you took Matt to mini-golf because he wasn’t having fun. He says we are silly girls! I missed you though, Nat said shyly.

I know, baby. I missed you too. Ben turned on the night-light plugged into the outlet next to Natalie’s bed. I’m not working next Saturday. We can leave Mommy at home and go roller skating. Just the two of us. How does that sound?

Super fun! Natalie squealed. Can we go to McDonald’s too?

Yuck, again? Ben teased.

Natalie hit him playfully on the arm with a stuffed bunny. You like their fries too, Daddy. I know you do.

You’ve got me there, Ben said. I like them very much.

Me too. But I like McNuggets better. Natalie smiled and burrowed deeper into her covers. Good night, Daddy. She waved at April in the doorway. ’Night, Mommy.

Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams. April blew Natalie a kiss, and Nat pretended to catch it and pull it under the blankets with her.

Ben and April sat close together on the couch in their living room for an hour, taking turns flipping through television channels but not watching anything. They shared a big piece of Natalie’s leftover birthday cake and a tall glass of ice-cold milk—just the way April liked it—and the cake was as delicious as Ben predicted. After their cake, they went to bed, made love and fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. April’s last thought before she slipped into sleep was—despite Ben’s absence—it had been an absolutely perfect day.

Much later, when April looked back on that day, she thought it was the last absolutely perfect day, and she smiled through her tears.

Noelle

Noelle woke after ten Sunday morning, sunlight streaming onto her pillows through the open blinds. She groaned and threw back the covers, got up—grumbling something about the sun being too goddamned bright,—and closed the blinds before crawling back into bed. She threw her arm over her eyes; her brain thudded with a headache that was not a hangover. She didn’t have enough to drink on her date to feel more than a little tipsy, though part of her wished she had more to drink—maybe even enough to get stupid. It might have made the date more fun and made the headache she could feel coming on worth it. She would not be seeing Bill again.

Noelle looked forward to her date with Bill more than she admitted to April—or herself. When she’d talked with him, he seemed friendly, ambitious, and kind; he brought his nephew bowling to help his sister, a widow like Noelle who worked Saturdays. Noelle met Bill’s sister Cora once, a lovely woman whose husband died after a battle with cancer. She seemed overwhelmed trying to manage her life as a suddenly single parent, a feeling Noelle was all too familiar with, and her heart went out to her. Noelle was impressed that Bill stepped up to help her.

Noelle dropped Matt off at his friend’s and, after chatting a bit with John’s mother, went to the restaurant to meet Bill. He picked the place without asking for her input, which annoyed her, and was waiting at a table and already ordered an appetizer before Noelle arrived. Noelle didn’t like that but dismissed it, determined to enjoy the date and have a pleasant evening. When the appetizer was served and Noelle didn’t eat any, Bill looked at her strangely, like he couldn’t fathom why she didn’t even want to try something that was obviously so delicious.

As Bill devoured the entire plate of appetizers by himself, it became painfully clear to Noelle that she’d made a horrible miscalculation. Bill held political opinions she found distasteful, and when she expressed a point of view that was mildly contrary to his own, he looked at her disdainfully and told her flatly she was wrong. Noelle debated ending the date at that moment but was determined to give Bill the benefit of the doubt.

She stuck it out, carefully studied the menu, ordered a glass of wine with her entree and asked Bill about his job. That was a mistake. That question opened the floodgates to a tirade about the business world at which Noelle smiled and nodded, understood little, and concluded Bill was currently unemployed after briefly owning a small business that failed. Noelle was sure this diatribe was meant to cast Bill as a victim in his own story, but he came off looking angry and a little pathetic. He’d lost almost everything and was living with Cora and his nephew.

Great, Noelle thought, nodding in false sympathy at Bill’s plight, I’ve managed to attract a deadbeat. Their food was served, and they dug in. Bill spoke fondly of his nephew in a way Noelle supposed was charming, but it wasn’t enough to redeem him as far as she was concerned. She laughed at some of his jokes, though she didn’t think they were funny, and pulled her hand away when he tried to touch her.

After dessert and coffee, Bill invited Noelle back to his place. Though Noelle was insanely curious as to the kind of privacy Bill might be allowed to claim in a home with his sister and her son, she thought accompanying him home when she’d already decided not to see him again would give Bill hope when there wasn’t any, which Noelle thought was unnecessarily cruel. She thanked him for dinner but declined his invitation, claiming she was tired from the birthday party.

So, Bill stammered, I’ll call you again?

He looked so hopeful that Noelle almost took pity on him and said, Sure, but instead shook her head and said, I’m sorry, Bill, but I don’t think so, and left it at that. She didn’t even lie and say she’d had a nice time.

That’s how Noelle found herself home alone at nine o’clock on a Saturday night, eating cookies and cream ice cream directly out of the carton—even though she’d already eaten dessert on her date—and watching a bad made-for-TV movie on a women’s cable channel, all the while thinking about Mark.

Noelle’s marriage to Mark hadn’t been perfect, but they were perfectly suited to each other. They both liked to wake up early and read the news online before heading to work. Mark hogged the bed, and Noelle stole the blankets. They liked to sleep in on weekend mornings, make love, then work all day on the laundry and housecleaning, sometimes running errands to the grocery store or the hardware store where Ben worked. Sometimes they took Matt on a picnic or window shopping, or they ate brunch at a swanky restaurant and went to an afternoon movie. Often, they ate dinner with April, Ben and Natalie. They rarely argued.

Noelle’s happy ending came crashing down around her one night when a slippery road and a curve conspired with Mark’s carelessness and a large tree to end his life. He hadn’t lived long enough to make it to the hospital for Noelle to say goodbye.

When Mark was killed, Matt was six and Noelle and Mark were finally starting to relax as parents and enjoy each other for the first time since Matt was born. They recently bought the house they dreamed about, big enough for the three of them plus another baby if they wanted one. They talked about it, decided to begin trying on their first vacation alone together; they were one week away from spending a glorious week on a Hawaiian beach when Mark died.

It had been a long, agonizing two years, and Noelle still missed Mark so much it ached. She supposed she always would. Her bed still seemed so big and empty without him to share it with, and sometimes she woke suddenly, disoriented, after rolling over into what she still thought of as Mark’s side.

Noelle sighed and threw the covers off for good. She pulled on her socks, got out of bed and made it quickly so she wouldn’t be tempted to get back in, then headed to her bathroom for some ibuprofen, hoping it would take care of the headache that was starting to pound.

Noelle hadn’t gone on a second date with any man since she’d begun dating again the previous summer. In six months, she’d been on a number of dates, some she enjoyed very much, and each time she told herself the chemistry wasn’t right. More specifically, there was something about each man that bothered her so much she couldn’t imagine going out with him again. One man told too many jokes, while another didn’t seem to have a sense of humor at all. One admitted he hadn’t read a book in years, unfathomable to Noelle, who taught high school English and read at least one book every week. And, of course, there was Bill, who was kind and charming but unemployed, politically troubling, and ordered appetizers without consulting her.

Noelle had to face something that was becoming a very real problem—she didn’t date anyone more than once because she consciously compared each date to Mark. Every time she found herself drawing a comparison, she internally scolded herself for measuring a man she barely knew next to Mark but continued to do it anyway. And the men always came up short. Mark was your soul mate, she told herself, but now he’s gone. You need to stop looking for someone just like him. That person doesn’t exist.

Noelle washed her hands in the bathroom sink and swallowed two ibuprofen with a gulp of water, thought for a second, then downed a third. She went downstairs to the kitchen, grabbing her tablet from the coffee table in the living room on the way so she could read the news before Matt came home. She brewed half a pot of coffee, knowing if she made a full pot, she was likely to drink it all and feel buzzed and anxious for the rest of the day. She toasted a bagel, carried it to the kitchen table, and opened her tablet.

Jody

Jody woke mid-morning Sunday to their father, Joe, banging on their bedroom door.

Jody, if you aren’t awake now, you’re gonna be! I’m about to run the vacuum!

Jody groaned and picked up their phone to check the time. Nine-thirty. I shouldn’t have stayed out so late. Go for it, Dad, they croaked. Seconds later, they heard the vacuum cleaner start and the unmistakable sound of it being raked back and forth across the hall carpet.

Jody rolled onto their stomach, buried their face in their pillow, and groaned again. They could lay in bed and wait for Joe to finish vacuuming, then try to go back to sleep—nearly impossible—or they could get out of bed and help him. They really wanted to do the former but knew they were going to do the latter. Decision made, they rolled back over and sat up. They pulled on their sweatpants without putting on underwear, then tugged on the t-shirt they wore the night before.

Jody used the bathroom, then ambled to the living room. They sat on the couch, feet curled under their legs, and watched their dad finish vacuuming under the small dining table. He turned off the vacuum and set it in its upright position. Good morning, sleepy, Joe bellowed. Joe bellowed everything. I thought you were going to sleep all day.

Jody rolled their eyes and leaned their head against the back of the couch. Dad. It’s only nine-thirty. You could have let me sleep another hour at least.

It’s nine forty-five, and I’m not about to let you waste the whole day.

It would have still been morning!

Joe laughed. I’m sorry I woke you, but it couldn’t wait. I need to get some things done this morning. I’m going to the office this afternoon.

Jody yawned and stretched. On a Sunday? You don’t usually work on Sunday.

Joe yawned too. No, but I need to do some prep work on a big project we’re starting this week.

Jody nodded, as if they understood their dad’s work or was the slightest bit interested in it. That makes sense, they said. How can I help?

Could you sweep the kitchen and go to the grocery store? I’ll make a list.

Sure, Jody said.

For as long as Jody could remember, it had been just them and their dad, Joe. Joe dated Jody’s mother, Barb, a woman several years his senior, in his early twenties. Barb got pregnant unintentionally and decided to keep the baby, but neither she nor Joe wanted to get married. After Jody was born, Barb and Joe stuck it out for a couple more years, but Barb was truly miserable, and Joe knew it. They went to counseling, where Barb revealed—though she felt motherly toward Jody and loved her—she didn’t feel like hands-on mothering would ever be for her. They parted amicably soon after, and Jody didn’t remember the time Barb lived with them. Barb moved to California, went to law school, and was a high-powered corporate attorney, who took her only child on fancy two-week vacations every summer and visited Jody as often as she could. She never married.

Joe never married, either. He dated occasionally but never seriously, women he told Jody about but never introduced them to. Joe was heavily involved in his work, which he loved, but always made it a point to be home for dinner every night, attended all Jody’s school events—even served as PTA president one year when they were in elementary school—and became acquainted with their friends and their friends’ parents, especially the Abernathys, to whom Joe was as close as Jody was. The two of them lived happily and comfortably.

How long have you been up? Jody asked.

Since seven, Joe answered. I emptied the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen, except for sweeping. Sorry I woke you, but I really needed to vacuum. This place was covered in cat hair.

As if on cue, Jody’s mangy cat, Scruffy, jumped into their lap. Hi, baby, Jody said, scratching under Scruffy’s chin, and Scruffy’s purr rumbled in her chest. Let me do it next time. She’s my cat.

But you hate vacuuming and aren’t bothered by the abundance of hair she leaves on every surface of this house. Joe sat on the other end of the couch, leaned over and ran his hand down Scruffy’s back. The cat instantly stopped purring and growled.

Jody laughed. I told you, she doesn’t like you, they said. She probably never will. I don’t know why you keep forcing it.

Joe smiled and shrugged. I hope eventually she’ll be won over by my animal magnetism.

Jody rolled their eyes. If it hasn’t won her over yet, I doubt it ever will.

Joe laughed and put his feet on the coffee table. I didn’t hear you come in last night.

It was late, after two, Jody said, as they yawned again. I was so tired, I fell into bed.

Where did you go? Joe asked, and Jody could tell he was trying not to pry.

To a party.

Was it fun?

Jody smiled. I had a good time.

Joe smiled knowingly. Ah. Did you meet someone?

Jody smiled wider and blushed. Maybe, they said shyly. They petted Scruffy again so they wouldn’t have to look directly at Joe, but Scruffy