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I shook the thought away, imagining Seth’s voice in my head. None of it is your fault.

“I’m sorry,” Freya said. “I don’t live in the same place as my parents anymore, but we FaceTime a lot. It’s hard to be far away from them. Are you going to see yours while you’re here at all?”

Again, I hesitated, that old feeling of irritation bubbling up. How was it any of her business? It was a normal question, though, one I wasn’t surprised she’d think given what I’d told her. I went with another half lie. “Probably not. Things have just been so busy, I’m not sure if I’ll get the chance. It’s too bad.”

And it would be too bad, if I had normal parents, a normal relationship with them, a normal family. Like everybody else seemed to.

Freya smiled mysteriously. “Maybe things will work out. Maybe life will surprise you.”

Something in my chest twisted hard. Maybe. Maybe one day my parents would turn up at my door and tell me they’d been reflecting on my childhood and that they’d finally realized how wrong they were, and that they wanted to give me their deepest apologies. Maybe life would surprise me and they’d tell me they knew it might take a while for me to trust them, but they wanted to take that time to build a new relationship with me. Maybe I’d finally get to understand what it was like to be part of a real family.

It had been too long since I’d spoken. I cleared my throat. “That would be the most amazing thing.”

Ugh. I nearly cringed at myself. When had I turned into someone for whom the maybes were positive? This was all Seth’s influence. Normal me would’ve shut this down right away. I didn’t know why I’d already said so much.

Luckily, before Freya could ask any more questions or I could dig myself into an even more ill-advised, deeper hole, Stephanie popped back up. “Thanks so much for shopping with us,” she said, handing over the garment bag and a receipt. I carefully did not look at it in fear of having a heart attack that would lead to dropping the dress and getting it dirty. “Hope to see you again!”

She would never see me again. A thought that made me kind of sad, I realized, as Freya and I waved goodbye outside the store and hopped into separate cabs.

Something that also made me sad: even though the sun had already set, Bev, Benjamin, and Seth had waited for me to light the candles. Or maybe sad wasn’t the right word. Maybe I was touched, and my body didn’t know the difference. All I knew was that my heart squeezed when I entered the apartment and saw them all standing there around the menorah, the candles already inserted and ready to drip wax on the tinfoil beneath.

“Aw, you guys didn’t have to wait for me,” I said. It was clear who’d selected the candles today by their neat alternating blue and white pattern: Benjamin. Bev’s selections were typically more colorful; Seth’s a random riot of the oranges and purples that nobody else wanted to include in their setup.

“Of course we waited for you,” Bev said, giving me a funny look, as if she hadn’t even considered otherwise. “How was dress shopping?”

I held up the garment bag in response. Her face split in a smile. “Oh, I can’t wait to see it. I’m sure it’s beautiful. I only wish I could’ve gone, but…” She shook her head. “My stomach had other ideas.”

“I wish you could’ve gone, too,” I said hastily, before she could fill me in on exactly what other ideas her stomach had. “But I had fun with Freya.”

Bev’s smile flickered. “You went with Freya? Freya, as in…” Her eyes flitted to her son, apparently unable to voice Freya’s relationship to him.

“Yup,” I said. “Freya and I are friends. I like her a lot.”

Seth’s eyes were now darting from the menorah to the door, as if judging how long it would take him to make a break for it. I stepped in front of him so that he couldn’t go anywhere.

“I see,” Bev said. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time. Shall we light the candles?”

Since tomorrow night Seth and I would be at the ball, this was our last night lighting them together. As a family. Well, kind of. Whether we counted as a family or not, I still savored each catch of the flame, each note of our voices raised in song, every flickering reflection of the candles in the glass of the window, the glow of our faces above them.

21

The morning of the ball dawned bright and clear, which was a relief. No matter what I did with my hair, any rain or snow would’ve introduced an element of unpredictability. And frizz. Always frizz.

Though it seemed Bev didn’t want to leave anything unpredictable. “I made us a hair appointment at my salon for blowouts, if you’re up for it. It’s at three thirty.”

My mouth opened, ready to instinctively agree with her, but what came out was, “I was thinking I might actually wear it curly. Could they help me with that?”

She smiled. “I’m sure they could.”

Even though I’d slept in well past Seth, whose floor nest had been cleaned up and folded neatly by the time I cracked my eyes, three thirty was still an interminable number of hours away. Hours I had to fill. Later on, I’d be spending more than enough time in close and awkward proximity to my fake boyfriend who I’d real kissed—time for an excuse. “I think I’m going to go for a run,” I said, craning my neck to see past her into the kitchen, where I assumed Seth was.

“That’s wonderful, dear. I’ve never been much of a runner myself,” she said. As if she’d finally caught on to the awkward neck-craning, she added, “Seth and Benjamin went out to play pickleball. They had to go early to snag a court.”

My shoulders sagged a little with relief, knowing I wouldn’t have to see him first thing, then felt bad for it, because he was my friend. Awkwardness or not, I shouldn’t be relieved about not seeing him.

Then it occurred to me that his absence meant I didn’t necessarily have to be absent. Though I’d already told Bev I was going running. Going back on that now would probably be weird. “I’ve never played pickleball.”

“Oh, Benjamin loves it,” Bev said. “He used to play tennis, but when he realized there was a sport like tennis without all the running he was delighted. He’s not much of a runner, either.”