Page 161 of The Difference Between

“Didgeridoo,” he explains, lining the opening up to his mouth.

My phone dings with a text that I reluctantly read. You think bedbugs have their babies in the spring?

Banyan plays a long, lonely sound that could be the anthem of my whole life. He plays it so long its echo gets trapped under my skin and wraps itself around the reality of everything that has to come next.

“Reesey-piecey,” he calls when I finally will myself to leave. “You’re not a grapevine, you know? We’re more than the money we make or the fruit we bear. Our worth—” He swirls the hand not holding his didgeridoo through the air. “Just is. Know what I mean?”

For the first time ever, I wish the world was exactly how Banyan thought it was.

“No,” I answer. “And don’t call me that.”

And then I get in the car, and drive.

Forty-Nine

The weed took the edge off enough for me to actively put my emotions in a box, tape it closed, and shove it in the abandoned warehouse of my soul where it will stay until the end of time.

All I need to do is avoid everyone and get through the night then everything will return to normal.

Will it sting? Absolutely. But stings fade, and eventually it will be like I was never even ever here at all.

Only when I pull into my mom’s driveway, every vehicle of everyone I know is here.

Because I planned a surprise dinner to announce my new life plan.

If I wasn’t forty and harboring dead eggs, I’d scale the house and climb through the window. Since I cannot, I pivot, pulling my phone out, doing what needs to be done, then making myself insentient.

“There she is,” Gavin calls as I walk in. His warm, cheery voice is the antithesis of my cold, empty ovaries.

The house erupts in applause, making me wince. Everyone’s in the kitchen. There’s champagne—that I bought—because we were supposed to be celebrating my future family and career pivot.

Gavin hooks an arm around my waist, pulling me close, looking like him as he kisses my temple. White tee, blue jeans, bright eyes, dreams of fatherhood.

I pry myself out of his grasp and avoid his gaze. “Hey.”

In the kitchen, the vibe is celebratory.

Mom tosses her hands in the air. “This must be quite the announcement if you’ve summoned us and are allowing me to have champagne, Reese.”

Two months ago, her brain was the most concerning thing in my life. Meanwhile, my eggs had already evacuated.

I force a smile. “I have to run upstairs.”

I move quick, destroying the evidence of my grief from my face with a washrag, then throw toiletries and clothes in a duffle. I pause only once to look at the unchecked boxes of my life’s checklist. The list a teenage girl made and grown woman tried to complete but never will. I snatch it from the board and rip it up before tossing it into the wastebasket. For three breaths, I look at young Amanda’s and Reese’s faces in a faded photo; life didn’t turn out the way either of them expected. I wish I could warn them. Wish I could tell them everything I know. Amanda would still be alive and we would still be friends and I would have a family by now because I would have known not to waste my best years.

Since I can’t, I finish packing.

At the bottom of the stairs, I drop my bag, wipe the remaining inkling of my despair from beneath my eyes, and return to the kitchen with my brightest smile. My story will be quick and to the point.

Rue laughs, Nash beside her. He’s wearing a shirt covered in flowers and a doting smile on his face. He pecks her on the cheek then whispers something in her ear that makes her do a so-so gesture with her hand. He leaves her for the pantry.

Remy is mid-pour of a glass of champagne when she says, “You bring us all over here to finally announce your plans of world domination or what, Ree?”

Kids laugh and shout from another room, and I bite down on my smile. Everyone looks at me expectantly.

My superglued joy stays firm. “Those who dominate the world don’t announce their plans, little sis.”

Gavin steps next to me and wraps an arm around my waist. I look at him; he grins and winks.