Page 48 of Just Ten Seconds

I pull her into a big hug and squeeze her tightly. “You are really mature for a twenty-five-year-old.”

“This is why I keep you around.” She laughs as we part, pointing a waggling finger in my direction. “You’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Go have a shot for me, and I’ll see you tomorrow at the diner.”

She holds up her pinkie finger, and I lace mine with hers. It’s our sign of agreement. A promise, a friendship pact, a forever sign that all’s good.

As Jackie dances in the bright lights, I sulk farther into the dark hallway. I don’t want to walk through the bar and out the front door where I’ll most likely run into the jerk. I head farther down the hallway and out the back door.

It’s chilly tonight. I hug my arms and rub them up and down, hoping to get the chill away.

I hear a noise and realize it’s coming from the left. A couple is making out against a car. It’s not even eight o’clock, and these two are already in the throes of bar night passion.

I guess that’s what you do on a Saturday night. At this time last week, I was at the bereavement group.

Taking out my phone, I confirm the time. It’s only seven thirty. The meeting has started.

Without thinking, I walk to my car and get in.

In thirty minutes, I’m outside Zion Episcopal Church.

“It was an adult squirrel costume. Legit. With two acorns in his hands,” Cynthia, a woman who I met tonight for the first time, shares with the group. “Not only did Theo look ridiculous as an adult-sized animal, but he’s also standing there, holding his … nuts,” she says with a laugh while holding her hands out like she’s juggling something.

My shoulders rise with laughter, and Kevin’s round face turns beet red as he leans forward with a chuckle.

I don’t know if all support groups are like this, but tonight has definitely been an evening of banter mixed with tears and laughter.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I did a quick scan to make sure Dean’s blue pickup wasn’t there. He said he wouldn’t be, but I had to double-check before I got out of the car.

That’s when I stalled and looked down at my outfit. Still clad in my eighties-inspired clothing from Jackie’s birthday party, I considered not going in. Will someone find my attire insensitive? Will I be drawing unwanted attention to myself when all I really want is to be a fly on the wall?

Thankfully, my raincoat was in the car from last week’s storms, so I threw it on. And then I chickened out again.

Hugging my coat closed over my outfit, I turned to get back in my car when Tracey saw me and nudged me toward the entrance.

“I was praying you’d give our group another try,” she said as she placed a tender hand on my arm.

“I thought I needed someone to talk to, but I actually don’t—”

“You’re here, Mara. Give us a chance.”

“My outfit.” I opened my coat a little to show her another reason why I shouldn’t go inside.

“This is a judgment-free zone,” she reminded me.

“Yeah, when it comes to feelings. Not fishnet stockings.”

She chuckled and swayed her head toward the building, urging me to follow. “I think we can make it work for the group.”

I followed her into the building I really wanted to enter even though my brain had been telling me a million times this is a bad idea.

Tracey used my costume to lead tonight’s discussion: remember an awesome party occasion you celebrated with your loved one. Of course, because I am dressed up and the holiday is right around the corner, everyone has been going for Halloween, remembering the best costumes and favorite candy and house parties they went to.

A middle-aged woman who lost her daughter at the young age of twenty-four recalls the time they dressed as Kris Jenner and Kim Kardashian. “I wore an old Liza Minnelli wig and a pantsuit. I looked more like Austin Powers than a momager, but it worked, I guess. Abby went a little overboard with the fake butt.” She wiped away tears at the memories.

Kevin says his dad didn’t like to dress up. “But he stole all the good candy! Before I went to a house, he’d whisper in my ear to keep an eye out for a Reese’s. If someone came to the door with a big-ass bowl, I’d go through it like a scavenger, searching for the orange wrapper, just to make the old man proud.”

Lauren, the sweet girl I met last week, says Halloween was her fiancé, Ryan’s, favorite holiday, and they always wore coordinating couples costumes. “Bonnie and Clyde, sexy nurse and doctor, a hunter and his doe.” Joey, her current boyfriend, clutches her hand and smiles alongside her. “This year, I’m going as a Pegasus. Joey says I should shine on my own.”