Short Story: The Other Slide

It was a park with a rudimentary playset whose plastic slides and two bridges were blanched by years in the sun.

Adults held BBQ’s and felt like they had gotten their money’s worth in HOA fees by throwing around a ball in the vastness of the yellow-green half alive grass a couple times a year –Memorial Day and the 4th of July, maybe Labor Day for the ambitious.

This was when the nondescript aluminum picnic benches were occupied with dirty-faced children. Proud parents marked the passing of another year with relief, awe, and upper-middle class regret, shaking their heads and paying extra attention to their offspring for the afternoon.

But generally the adults succeeding the retirees in this neighborhood were too busy paying the mortgage to make much use of the space.

This made it all the stranger when Julie began to notice remnants of invisible activity left behind on the picnic benches and the grass and trees, after her family moved in with their grandma across the street.

First, she noticed that no matter how windy it was, the breeze that ran leisurely pace, like a mother’s fingers through a daughter’s hair, through the oak trees didn’t alter. It didn’t speed up and never slowed down. It was always the same – gentle.

She pointed this out to her twin brother James, stopping on the way home from school on a particularly blustery Fall afternoon. She squinted as her hair whipped around her face. Yet, nary a branch in the park quivered.

She licked her lips. “James look!” she pointed to one of the grills from which steam with no discernible source rose. Instead it coiled slow and hypnotically like a python readying itself to strike. It was such as odd scene in the middle of a nearly winter’s day, she remembered it. But when she spoke it out loud to herself later in front the mirror as she got ready for bed, she realized she sounded nuts and did not bring it up again. Neither to herself nor anyone else.

But that didn’t mean she forgot about it. Julie’s window had a direct line of sight to the park. And that incident got her looking out the double-paned glass twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening as she did her homework.

Once there was a cake – untouched left on the picnic table closest to the swings.

There were no candles, no birthday hats, simply a well-frosted mound with violet and pink rosettes around the rim waiting to be eaten, or perhaps waiting to be noticed.

When Julie saw it she turned around and rustled through a box of miscellaneous items looking for her binoculars. Even in a mess, Julie could always find what she was looking for.

When she located it, she adjusted the center dial and read the words written in translucent red frosting, “Congratulations, 1580!” Just the sight of it made a pit form at the bottom of Julie’s stomach. She would be taking the SAT’s this year and on her practice exam she had barely scored 1490. She put the binoculars away, that was enough for the day.

· · ·

Another time when Julie was walking home from school with her brother again there was a banner that read simply, “Prom, Mindy?” It hung between two Jacarandas by the tennis courts and they spotted it just as they were about to cross the street.

“Wait!” Julie had called after her brother as he proceeded to the other side. “Did you see that?”

“Yea?” he motioned for her to hurry. “If I get soft like that in my old age, I hope you’ll stop me,” he said, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up.

She looked once more at the banner: green on cream-colored butcher paper, yellowed at the sides, like it had been preserved across decades – everything was perfect but the edges. Like old memories, Julie suspected. At 15, she was too young to have many of those. She ran to meet her brother on the other side, looking both ways before crossing and pointing out James’ untied left shoelaces when she caught up to him.

“It’s mom’s name,” Julie said catching her breath. “Weird, right?”

James shrugged. “Yea, weird,” he said as he pulled Grandma’s house key out of his pocket and slipped it into the ancient lock.

Mom had campaigned to have her move in with them for years, ever since their grandpa died. But as it turns out, they ended up moving in with her when their dad lost his job a year ago. He was still, hardly ever home.

“Hello Sweetheart,” Grandma said giving their mom the deepest of hugs.

“I’m sorry Mom,” she said burying her face into Grandma’s shoulder, squatting and wrapping an arm under her armpit to do so. Even from a distance it looked to Julie like her mom might cry. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Grandma nodded. “It’s ok, there’s only one rule here,” she pulled away to search her daughter’s face. “It’s that you get what you want,” she smiled.

And then something passed between them. Something electric. Julie wasn’t sure what it was but she felt it like static in the air. And as if to put a period on the point, at that moment the porchlight turned on.

Their Grandma nodded as if she had done it. But then their mom smiled as if she knew.

And James smiled at the coincidence.

As soon as their suitcases were inside the house, Grandma set about making sure everyone was comfortable. Most of all their mom. She cooked Julie and James spaghetti and meatballs – their favorite dinner so far as she remembered, which was about five years back and no longer true. And she brought up a box from the attic that said “Mindy, High School.” She took out their mom’s senior yearbook.

“Aw Sweetheart, look how beautiful you were, you’re still stunning even in middle age but my, how lovely you were, how fresh,” Grandma plopped the book in their mom’s lap. “Not saying it’s Doug’s fault but he really did a number on you what with twins and a move across the country,” she “tsk”ed.

Their mom gave her mom a small, tight smile. And she shut the book as soon as it had been placed in her lap.

“Julie!” Mom yelled later that evening, as her daughter tiptoed past her room. “Come here.”

Julie hesitated. She had the yearbook which had been left on the oak coffee table pressed against her chest. And she wasn’t sure she wanted her mom to see. But there was also nowhere to hide it.

“Yes, Mom?” she asked, her voice rising with a quiver.

“Darling, I want you to know not to believe whatever Grandma tells you.” She kissed her daughter on the forehead once she had sat down beside her on the bed. “You and James are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I mean that.”

“What about Dad?” Julie asked in a small voice. She regretted the question as soon as she’d asked. She already knew the answer. He was a non-entity to their mom. A means to the life she enjoyed – or had enjoyed.

“Doug, your dad, I loved him as much as a girl of 18 could love,” she smiled at Julie. “But things changed for him I suspect and then they changed for me.”

Julie began to fidget.

“Darling what I want for you, is what I wanted for me. I want you to be free. Promise me you put your world first.”

Julie promised. And then her mom appearing bored with this conversation, set her free with a flick of an unlined hand.

Mindy Yu. Mindy Yu. Julie searched for her mom’s name through the senior pictures., moving her index finger along the neat names under each portrait.

Westbrook High. It was the same school she and James went to now, the same mascot embossed in gold on this yearbook almost two decades old as on their class schedule keeper – literally a babbling brook. Julie stifled a laugh. She and her mom were the quietest people she knew.

In a sea of white faces her mom’s full lips, long black hair and thick eyebrows stood out. She had a smug smile, like she knew something about her life, that wouldn’t be true for anyone else. Her senior quote was: make it all about Yu. Next Julie flipped to the back to read her classmates’ signatures.

“Don’t forget about me when you’re rich and famous.”

“You’re gonna make some dude really lucky.”

“Chase your dreams ‘cause we both know you’re gonna get there.”

Reading these messages suddenly felt voyeuristic, wrong. She shut the book and tiptoed downstairs to put it back in the box marked “High School.”

Their dad joined them a few days later after.

· · ·

“You know, your mom grew up here,” Grandma had said, moving a few dishes from the open box marked “KITCHEN,” deftly to their pre-determined spots in the cabinet. She put away maybe a quarter of the contents before closing the flaps and pursing her lips as if to say, that’s enough of things that don’t belong here.

“She was really something special, your mom. And the thing is, she knows it too. That’s why it hurt so bad when she got pregnant. Not that she doesn’t love you and James completely, because she does. But kids take something from their parents. Especially their moms. If they’re lucky it’s this much,” she held her thumb and index finger apart about an inch. “If they’re unlucky, they take a whole lot more,” she shook her head.

Julie stood there, speechless. It was the first time she had ever heard herself referenced as a usurper. Though how could it be otherwise.

“Did you know your mom got a 1580 on her SAT’s? Back then, that was really something,” she handed the box to Julie. “She was going to be important, then Doug came along,” she said his name with an abundance of phlegm, like the mere thought of her son-in-law was distasteful. She put a hand on Julie’s, remembering herself. “Sweetheart, will you take this down to the basement?”

Julie bit her lip as she took the box. She could barely see over the top as she stepped down the mauve carpet that lead from the first floor to the basement. On the last step, she tripped over her left foot but caught herself. Perhaps this was how mom felt when she had been pregnant - big as a boat and about as elegant. About as hopeful too, to hear Grandma tell it. She had descended into the absolute pit of her young life.

Julie navigated to a corner of the room and set down the “KITCHEN” box next to the “Mindy – High School,” box. It seemed vaguely appropriate. They belonged to the same person, at least in theory.

She ran back upstairs, tracing her hands along the light blue wallpaper.

· · ·

Last Saturday as Julie sat at her desk, she noticed a red kite in one of the trees in the park. It wasn’t fancy like the dragon or butterfly her dad had gotten them from his business trip up north, the year he forgot their birthday.

Nor was it remarkable in any other way except that it resembled something Julie was sure she had seen before. But where? She couldn’t place it. Still, it was pretty and the tail sported three yellow ribbons evenly spaced. She stood up and cupped her hands to the sides of her face pressing it against the window to see if there were any kids to whom it might belong. But the park was empty except for two dog walkers, neither of whom were accompanied by children.

Julie felt deeply in her bones that something was not normal about these normal scenes. It was like there was another reality that these moments belonged to. One that whispered at existence and just beyond her reach.

She finished her Trigonometry homework, dusting the eraser bits off of the graph paper and holding it up to the light to inspect it for any debris she might have missed. After tucking it into the shallow desk drawer she walked across the hall to James’ room.

Their parents were gone that long weekend. It was a “much needed” anniversary trip. And they had been left in the care of their grandma who had promised Mom and Dad they would return to well-fed, well-bathed and well-entertained children come Monday.

“Hey, what are you doing?” she asked standing at the threshold to his room. James was lying on his bed futzing with a Rubik’s Cube their dad had given him. It was from the family’s chiropractor and had the words We Put You Back Together, emblazoned on one side.

“Dunno, just bored,” he said, clicking away with confidence in one direction before furrowing his brow and reversing just about all his steps.

James’ room still housed boxes – mostly unopened. Julie had offered to help him, but to James there was something dishonorable about having his little sister help him with his most personal posessions. Even if she was younger by just a couple of minutes.

The late afternoon light that streamed in through the window lit up the dust that hung suspended throughout the room. Julie took a brave step inside.

“Wanna go to the park?” she asked.

James’ tongue was now curled out over his upper lip. He groaned and threw the Rubik’s Cube on the floor. His face reset as he shrugged and smiled. “Sure, let’s go.”

As they stepped outside, neither could envision a more pleasant hour. Julie looked at her brother. The golden undertone of his skin looked particularly appealing and for the first time she could see why he was popular with girls.

She didn’t dare explore the converse, why she wasn’t appealing to the boys in her grade. She thought she might break if she discovered the reason was something unfixable, like her personality rather than her nose. James had always told her she was too much of a know-it-all to be likable.

“Look! You’re doing it again, can’t you just stop? Stop.” He had said when she unleashed her fifth “well, actually,” of their Scrabble game last night.

“What?” she had said innocently, shrugging her shoulders.

“You’re just so damned annoying, you’re not better than me just because you have a bigger vocabulary. Look at Mom? She’s smarter than Dad but he made all the money. What wouldn’t I give for a crystal ball,” he sighed. Nothing in his mind, was worse than being poor, than being stuck here at Grandma’s house. It was humiliating. If he had to lie, steal or cheat James promised himself he would never be dependent on anyone – ever. Not like Mom.

“Ready?” James asked, bringing himself back to the sidewalk in front of their grandma’s house.

He stepped off the curb not waiting for an answer. He was about halfway across before Julie found it suitable to follow him into the non-existent traffic on Oak Mill Dr.

“First one down the slide doesn’t do dishes until Mom and Dad are home!” he yelled when she joined him at the edge of the sand. James started toward the blue ribbon of plastic in an unconcerned trot.

Julie always helped with chores, even when they weren’t hers. And besides, if she decided to actually try, he would just hold out his arm and push her onto her butt. He shook his head without bothering to look behind him. His sister was the most agreeable and most annoying person combined in one.

And when he wasn’t thankful for her, he felt sorry for her.

As he was contemplating the fate that had given him the superior mix of Mom and Dad’s genes, namely a backbone, a strong gust of wind held him back just as he had reached the post at the stairs that lead up to the bridge that connected to the slide. He swore his hand was slapped away.

“Ow,” he muttered, grabbing the injured hand with the other.

“What happened?” Julie said, putting her hand on the post.

“I – I don’t know but something,” he held his hand up to show Julie the patch of red on his palm. “Like - it bit me!”

Julie looked at her brother, doubtfully. “Alright well that’s no excuse for losing,” she offered. Though she did feel bad that he was hurt. Perhaps she would let him down the slide first.

She began to climb up the stairs that led from the sandbox to a covered tunnel hardly big enough for a five year old let alone a teenager to crawl through even if they were on their hands and knees. On the other side of the tunnel was a ladder that led to the top of the taller of the two slides. It was one of those slides that was fully covered and reflected a blue cast on Julie as she sat at the top. She waited until her brother was in view, cursing as he resumed a standing position from the necessary crawl, and then slid down.

In the moment before she used the leverage of her arms, tingles surged through her body. She felt light as a feather and like she was suspended in air, in time, in whatever viscousness that was far denser than her 15-year old body. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“Hurry up!” James said standing behind her. “I’m gonna push you if you don’t go.”

“See you on the other side!” she slapped his ankle and pushed off her hands.

· · ·

Julie waited for a moment, half expecting James to kick her back after pausing irresponsibly short time to follow her. But the kick didn’t come. Neither did James.

She stood up and dusted off her butt and turned around when she heard laughter. A glob of wet sand flew a few feet in front of her face causing her to step back. Her calf hit the slide. Still no James.

“Mindy? Mindy!” a voice called. A boy – a handsome boy she didn’t recognize, came around the corner.

Julie followed his path with her widening honey-hued eyes, to the bench, and then to the grill. She recognized who was already there.

“Mr. and Mrs. Yu! Hello! Do you know where Mindy is?” he bowed slightly.

“Jack, my boy – the son I never had!” Julie’s Grandpa slapped him on the back. “She’s over there, tennis.” He pointed to the court obscured by dark mesh paneling that added an air of unwanted mystery to this moment. “Should be coming off soon though.”

Just then, the kick came. “Ow!” Julie yelped, falling forward with the arrival of her brother.

“Sorry Jules, darndest thing, that slide? It wouldn’t let me go down, I swear. It was like I was stuck in goo.” He held up his hand. “I know how weird that sounds.”

She popped back up and put a hand over his mouth. “Shhh!” she whispered furiously. “Do you see what I see?”

“Grandma? Grandpa? Mom!” he couldn’t help but yell that one. And as if to over-compensate, he pulled her down so they were both crouched.

A young girl, no older than Julie nor James ran towards the boy.

“Jack!” she squealed. “You came!” she jumped onto him, throwing her arms around his neck and her legs around his back.

“Some decency, Mindy, please. Your parents are here,” their grandma said. She had moved from the grill to the picnic table carrying a plate of Korean BBQ. Even though she was scolding their mom, it was a tone that said you can do no wrong – ever.

Maybe even: get pregnant at 18, and we’ll forgive you.

“Sorry Mom,” Mindy got down with Jack’s help, and they both hurried over to her father’s side.

Jack took over the grilling. “Here, let me Mr. Yu,” he said, holding out his hand for the spatula.

“Son I never had!” Grandpa said, relinquishing the instrument with pride.

Julie felt something was deeply wrong here. Jack wasn’t their dad. And Mom seemed happier than she had ever seen her. The first thing was depressing enough. The second actually hurt, like the time she got a piece of glass stuck in her toe after boldly proclaiming there was nothing to worry about that summer by the beach. She’d been too proud to accept her mom’s help and throughout the day it just got deeper and deeper, lodging itself at last so far into the flesh, it was a hopeless case by the time she was ready to grab a pair of tweezers.

She looked at her mom, examining every inch of her the way a stalker might and cross-referencing what she already knew. Mom was like a younger, bouncier version of herself, obviously. But there was something else. She had a fire that Julie couldn’t recall ever seeing. Like life would be a continuous (and glorious) unfolding of only the most worthy (and unworthy) dreams.

Suddenly her grandma’s words made sense. The regret she felt on her daughter’s behalf. And the pain she wanted to take away. Even as a 15-year-old though, Julie knew no one can alter the course of their life other than the person living it.

“My legs are cramping,” James whined from his crouched position beside her. “Can we please go?”

“Where?” Julie asked, throwing up her hands. “Where are we supposed to go?”

But she didn’t protest and obediently rose when James got up and gestured for her to follow. They walked away from the slide. They noticed as they got some distance from it, that it was different from the playset they had entered minutes ago.

It was new for one thing. And it was missing the second slide. Julie realized it wasn’t just some wild strange dream provoked by her Grandma’s desire to give their mom the life she thought she deserved. They had actually gone back in time to her mom’s girlhood.

Still, the Jacarandas here were in full bloom and Julie could easily transpose herself onto this scene. Something in her loved the idea of the magic that brought them here. She wondered where it came from. And she remembered the porchlight on their first night. Their grandma.

James hardly looked to either his left or right as he crossed Oak Mill Dr. to their grandma’s or should he say, their mom’s house. He pat his pocket, checking to make sure the key had made it with him, it had.

“Grandma hasn’t changed these locks in like 20 years,” muttered James. “Someone should tell her it’s a security hazard.”

Julie held her breath as she stepped inside. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but she closed her eyes too. And when she opened them one at a time, it looked exactly as it had that morning. Nothing had changed, not even the baby blue wallpaper in the hallway that lead from the kitchen to the basement. The oak coffee table looked the same. The smell was the only thing that seemed different. That is, it was unremarkable. Not stale and still as it had been when they stepped out moments ago. The pictures on the walls were different. There was more space between them, less territory covered. There were no graduation or wedding pictures, or the family portraits from their toddler years.

Of course there weren’t, because they hadn’t happened yet.

James held up a brochure from the kitchen counter that had evidently come in with the day’s mail.

“Look,” he waved it proudly. “Mom was invited to apply to Harvard! Who gets invited to apply to Harvard?” He stood like that for a moment, grin as wide as his ears, until his eyes lit on something more interesting. He threw down the papers and ran over to the coffee table, picking it up and plopping on the scratchy plaid couch in a single motion.

Julie watched him as he sat down. “What is it?” she asked.

“It’s a letter, something from Dad,” he held it up. “Or should I say Doug. It isn’t opened. Should I?” he asked.

Before Julie could answer, he had slipped his index finger between the sealed flap and clumsily ripped it, pulling out the contents with his tongue curled up over his upper lip, eyebrows furrowed. He cleared his throat and began to read it out loud.

“Dear Mindy,

It’s been so long since summer, I wonder if things will be the same when we see each other again.

I wish I could be there to celebrate your 16th birthday with you, sweet 16 indeed. I imagine you’ll look (and be) stunning as you naturally are.

Have you told Jack yet?

Yours (truly),

Doug”

James put it down and made a gagging motion. “Well I guess fidelity wasn’t Mom’s strong point.”

“It isn’t Dad’s either,” Julie muttered, crossing her arms. “They’re kind of perfect for each other, actually.”

Not a beat passed after she had reluctantly sat on the couch next to her brother to wait, before the front door opened. The voice of their adolescent mother and their grandmother’s were hushed, like they were discussing something to be decided.

Julie and James both braced themselves. James’ jaw set tight and he stood to move himself to the side of the couch closer to the door to protect his sister – just in case. Julie closed her eyes, counting by heartbeat which seemed to be racing at least two times its normal speed.

“Julie, James!” their mom said as soon as she lit on them. She ran over and hugged them together, kneeling to do so. A three-way hug, a “thrug” she used to call it when they were small and had been left alone while their dad traveled for work. One in the morning before school, and one in the evening before bed.

Their grandma who had been standing quietly by the door, shut it, smiling at the scene in front of her. Mindy to pulled away with the sound. She motioned for her kids to follow her to the kitchen where their grandma met them with a benevolent smile.

Julie spoke first. “Mom? What is this?” she said quietly.

She inspected her mom’s unlined face, dynamic smile, lips no longer set so tightly. She took in her scent, their mom – at least the one she knew always smelled of soap, Dial now but it used to be Dove. This iteration of Mom however, smelled artificially sweet like baby powder and sticky jasmine. Like she expected some one to notice.

“We made this for us!” Mindy looked at her mom. “I want you and James to stay here with me. I want us to be together, to grow up together and live all our dreams together! Julie, you and I can be like sisters, I will cheer you on and be there with you through everything. And James, think about all the possibilities of what could be. We all deserve a do-over,” she shook her head and looked down. It was hard to tell whether excitement or shame was the dominant emotion.

It was quiet for a long while. Julie wanted to say yes. But something stopped her – maybe it was Dad, maybe it was the idea of fairness. Why should her mom get a do-over? I mean if she really loved them, truly, would she need one?

Grandma who had been observing, spoke. “There’s only one rule here, that your mom gets what she wants.”

Julie nodded. She stepped forward and hugged her mom tightly. “Mom, I love you but I can’t. I mean I can’t stay.” She choked on the last word. “I have to go home.”

Her mom nodded, her own tears mirrored in her daughter’s eyes. “I understand. It’s not fair to force you. I would never do that. You know how to return.”

Julie looked at James who was looking at his hands like he was seeing them for the first time. Or maybe like he was high.

“Coming?” she asked.

James shook his head. “No, I think I’ll stay,” a strange smile began to form on his lips. “You know where to find us.”

Julie’s mouth still hadn’t fully closed when she stepped out of the house and crossed the Oak Mill Dr. Her jaw had only started to loosen when she passed her grandpa and Jack scraping off the grill. They were laughing about something and looked truly happy. Grandpa looked up for a moment. He smiled courteously at Julie and waved. But no sign of recognition flashed across his eyes. Neighborly, that’s all it was.

Julie walked over to them.

“I’m sorry, do I know you? Are you one of Mindy’s friends?” Grandpa asked, confused.

She nodded. “Yea, I’m one of Mindy’s friends.” She threw her arms around him and gave him the tightest hug. “Thank you for, I don’t know I guess for everything. I love you.” When she pulled away, she felt the moisture at the corners of her eyes and turned quickly not wanting to see their reaction. She had missed him – she would miss her mom. She would miss her life.

“Young lady!” she heard her grandpa’s voice call after her, “I think you should seek some help! Mental infirmity can start young you know!”

Julie was already halfway around other side of the slide. She climbed the stairs and went through the tunnel. She took a deep breath, holding it as she steadied herself seated at the top before pushing off with as much force as she could. Sure, she could come back and find them in the past, but she knew she wouldn’t be doing that. She closed her eyes and counted 1-2-3.

When she got to the bottom it was getting dark. She hurried to the other side of the playset which now or once again had two slides and two tunnels. And as she stood at the edge of Oak Mill Dr. She turned once more to look at the park in the fading dusk.

There, taped to the mesh of the tennis courts was a banner. “Yu can do anything – Harvard!” And while she was sure there wasn’t anyone else there, she still scanned the park benches and picnic tables.

Just as she was about to cross Oak Mill Dr. for the fourth time that day, she heard it. “We love you, Mindy!” And though she wasn’t sure, she thought she heard applause and then her brother’s voice. “Congrats Cousin!”

She didn’t bother turning around. She knew she wouldn’t see anything else.

When her heart steadied she rang the doorbell – her brother still had their key.

Grandma appeared at the door moments later. “Come on in Julie,” she said.

Inside looked as before. Julie’s backpack which she had inserted her trigonometry folder into hours ago, still sat in the foyer. So did her sandals and umbrella. And then she realized it did look different. Her brother’s shoes, usually strewn mismatched and at odd angles across the brown tile were missing.

She looked at her grandma. Without saying anything ran Julie as fast as she could, up the stairs. Her room was the same. The room her mom had been sleeping in was now empty. A pristine guest room. She ran down the hall. Her brother’s room was bare too, save for the Rubik’s cube. There it was - We Put You Back Together, on the nightstand. Some glitch in the matrix she guessed.

Her grandmother came up behind her. “You’ll still see them, Julie. It’s not the end.”

Julie turned and ran past her. She ran down the stairs to the powder blue corridor that housed all the happiest family pictures. There were twice as many as there had been that morning. There was now a picture of Mindy graduating from Harvard. A picture of her walking across the stage to receive her J.D. A picture of her standing in front of “Mindy Yu & Associates Law Firm.”

To Julie’s relief, her mom still had her last name.

There were pictures of her brother, too. “James?” she pointed to one of her brother graduating high school and looked at her grandma.

Grandma laughed. “He got in trouble – twice actually for insider trading. But they could never pin anything on him – no evidence. He’s very comfortable, made some fabulous money one can only get when reversing hindsight is possible.”

“But Mom never married? She’s still a Yu?” Julie asked, hopefully.

“She did, she just kept her last name this time.”

Julie didn’t have to ask to whom. It took a moment for Julie to register that her mom had an entire do-over of her life that negated her existence, what she had meant to her and what her role in Julie’s future might be.

Sure she was depressed. She had been mostly absent for years but at least her body was there! At least she was there to tell them “goodbye” in the mornings, and “hello” after school, even if she did it in the same robe she’d been wearing all day.

That still meant something to Julie.

She fought back angry tears, hot and wet. But the dam wasn’t strong enough and they fell, unforgivingly down her face. She swiped her sleeve clumsily across her face turned to her Grandma.

“What am I supposed to do now!” she screamed. She had finally lost it. “Who am I?!”

Her grandma looked at her, startled. “Why, you’re who you’ve always been,” she took her hand, pushed up her damp sleeve and placed her other hand on top. “You’re Julie, and there’s only one rule here. You get whatever you want.”