I didn’t know if dropping out of school had made her break up with Jimmy, or if it was the other way around. Whatever the case, Jimmy had a new girlfriend, dark-haired, almost as pretty as Haylie. He didn’t work at my dorm anymore, but I would sometimes see them in his car or walking around campus. He kept his arm laid across her thin shoulders, steering her around. Because he was big, and because he still shaved his head, he was easy to spot from far away, and so I always had time to cross the street or duck into a building before he saw me. For a long time, that’s what I did. And then one sunny day in November, for no particular reason, I didn’t. He was alone, and walking toward me, and I kept walking straight, my head raised, not looking away. We passed each other without incident, his eyes vacant, staring straight ahead.
We parked behind Elise, in front of Mr. Wansing’s. There weren’t any other cars. There were a lot of people inside—we could see them through the windows. They were all current neighbors. No one else had come far enough to drive.
“I’m nervous all of a sudden.” My mother looked up at Mr. Wansing’s house. Green Christmas lights blinked from the edge of the roof, though the sun hadn’t yet gone down. “I haven’t talked to any of these people since…” She shook her head. “I don’t know what they know, what they think.”
“Do you care?” I asked. I really was surprised. It was hard to believe that after everything she’d been through, a little neighborhood party would scare her. Elise and Charlie were already walking toward us. Elise wore the carrier this time, Miles snuggled inside.
My mother shrugged, her fingers moving over her new scarf. It was too warm out for a scarf or a hat, but she was wearing both. “I don’t know.” She looked up in the direction of our old house. “I used to love coming to this thing.”
“Why?” I asked. I wasn’t being sarcastic. I really wanted to know.
She laughed. She looked back up at the house. “I guess because we did it every year. If that makes sense.”
It did. “Then let’s go now,” I said.
Once we got inside, she was fine. People were happy to see her—or us, but mostly her. She was hugged repeatedly. She was told how good she looked. Elise and Charlie and I sat in the corner on folding chairs, watching her and eating pecan pie, smiling at children we didn’t recognize. Carols played on a tape player, but not so loud that we couldn’t hear the talking around us. Some people told my mother they were sorry to hear about the divorce, and I heard her say, “Oh, thank you, but it’s fine, actually,” her voice more adamant each time. Creepy Mr. Shunke tried to hug her for too long, and our former next-door neighbor, Nancy Everton, cut in to save her.
“Oh Natalie, you just missed the Piltons,” she said, handing my mother a piece of pumpkin pie so Mr. Shunke couldn’t hug her again. “The people who bought your house? They’re lovely.” She lowered her voice. “They don’t mow their lawn like they should, and they let your roses go to hell.” She raised it again. “Really, they’re very nice. Two little boys and one on the way. No wonder they had to go early. She was probably tired.”
“Good for her,” Elise said, distracted. Miles had woken up, squirming and crying in his carrier. After a quick consultation with Charlie, Elise leaned over and tapped my knee. “We’re going to go,” she said. “If you’re smart, you’ll come with us. She’s in her element. Who knows how long she’ll be?”
But I decided to stay. I wasn’t miserable, just sitting there and watching people, and I didn’t want my mother to feel pressured to leave. She was clearly enjoying herself, sipping wine and laughing with Nancy Everton. I ended up having fun, too. I talked to two girls I’d babysat when I was in junior high, who were both now taller than I was; and I talked to Mr. Wansing himself about his new computer and the warm weather outside. When my mother was clearly out of earshot, he lowered his voice and asked how my father was doing.
“Please tell him hello,” he said, his pale blue gaze gentle under bushy silver brows. His voice was clear, his gaze unclouded. He might outlive