“I told you those good-looking ones weren’t to be trusted,” Aunt Maya said as I walked through the grocery aisle with her. I couldn’t face going back to the apartment when my relationship with Nate was basically all over it, so I went to stay with her instead. “They sweep you off your feet and then break your heart, and you’re never quite the same again.” She paused at the end of the pet food aisle. “What do you think about getting a cat? I wouldn’t mind having a little friend to come home to at the end of work. I like that one.” She pointed to a can with a fluffy white cat on it.

“Why not get a cat each?” I said, figuring that I may as well get started on my lonely life cliché. I certainly wasn’t planning on ever finding another man.

“Now there’s an idea. We could call them Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Or Hop and Scotch. Oh, I know, Chess and Shire so that together they’re Cheshire cats. How clever.” She beamed and dropped two cans of food for our non-existent pets into the trolley.

“Sure, Aunty. Those are fine names.” My voice was void of emotion.

“I don’t think you’re taking this very seriously.”

“Sure I am. Two cats. Tweedledum and Tweedledee.”

“No, Chess and Shire. Although, now that I’m saying it again, I’m not sure I like those. Should we stick with the Alice in Wonderland references or go with something else?”

“I don’t mind, Aunty.”

She stopped pushing the trolley and looked at me sternly, studying me for so long that I almost started to cry. It felt like she was reading my emotions. She knew me so well that she probably could.

“Why don’t you call him?” she said after a while. “Surely the two of you can work this out?”

“We can’t.” I shook my head.

“Did he cheat on you?”

“No. He’d never.”

“Then what is so unforgivable that you can’t work it out? I wish you’d tell me.”

“We just can’t work, OK?”

“All right,” she said, adding a few more cans of cat food to the trolley. “But when we get the cats, I don’t want you calling it something ridiculous like Fluffy or Mittens just because you’re too depressed to be creative.”

“We can call them Blanche and Stella.”

She smiled. “I like that. We’ll make sure we get sisters and keep them away from any tomcats named Stan.”

“Perfect.”

I picked a stray cat hair off my sleeve as I gestured for my students to gather around me. With only one week left until the Christmas break, it was finally time for the end-of-year performance. This was the final stage of the fundraising fair that had been taking place on the school grounds all day. I was trying to focus on the girls, but I did have a little voice in the back of my mind wondering if they were going to do it—were Nate and his brothers going to steal the proceeds for their own pockets?

I didn’t know if I could forgive them if they did. Not that it mattered—I was already out. I hadn’t had contact with any of them in over two months. That included Alesha. She was one of them now. I'd lost my love and my best friend to the Cartwright way of life. Doing the right thing had never felt so bad.

“Ladies, if I can have your attention please,” I said as we stood behind the curtain ready for our performance of A Streetcar Named Desire. It would be the one and only show, and after the work the girls had put in on not only learning their lines, but also on the props and costumes, I knew the whole thing would go off without a hitch.

They crowded around me, their various character guises donned and ready to show the audience.

“I just want to take a moment to tell you all how unbelievably proud I am. You’ve worked so diligently on transforming yourselves into your characters and supporting each other in your roles. I honestly couldn’t be prouder. So when you go out there tonight, I want you to take that knowledge with you, and know that at the end of it, I’m taking you all out for pizza to celebrate what I know will be a fantastic show.”

Their excitement and nerves bubbled with the positive comments. There wasn’t a Debbie Downer in the whole bunch. These girls were ready.

“OK, places everyone, and don’t forget to break a leg. Metaphorically, of course.” I smiled and moved to the side of the stage while they all scattered and got ready. We had our music students at the side of the stage, ready to provide the soundtrack, and the auditorium was packed with family, friends and faculty.

I gave the thumbs up to our head of music, and she readied her students to play. We were using a simplified version of the score that accompanied the 1951 film, and soon the drama of that classic main theme filled the auditorium as the lights dimmed. I held my breath and clasped my hands beneath my chin, taking it all in.

Besides Blanche’s pearls getting hooked on the back of a chair and scattering about the stage, the performance was perfect, the music fantastic, and the audience appreciative. For the first time in the months since I’d run away from my life with Nate, I had a genuine smile on my face. I felt like me again.

“Thank you all so much for coming,” I said as I took the microphone at the end of the performance. “The students worked incredibly hard to make this performance the work of art that it was. I’d like you all to give a big hand to our stars. Emily MacNamara as Blanche DuBois! Rachael Emerson as Stella Kowalski!” I went through our actors one by one, handing them all a small bouquet of flowers as they took their bow to an uproarious applause. At the very end, they presented me with a bunch of flowers I hadn’t known I was getting, and I shed more than a couple of tears from the gesture as I hugged them all for being so thoughtful. Then I pulled the music director onto the stage and made the school orchestra and stage crew all stand up and take a bow as well.

“And let’s not forget our sound and lighting crew in the back of the room.”

It was when the spotlight turned their way that I saw him. Up the back of the auditorium, smiling and clapping along with everyone else. Nate.

He looked… proud of me.

My heart caught in my throat, and if I hadn’t been crying already, I would’ve started. He was there. And oh God, he was even more beautiful than my memory was giving him credit for. I wanted to call out to him, to run through the audience and fling my arms around his neck. But what would be the point? He was still doing what he was doing, and I was still against it.

When it was all over, I stepped back with everyone else before the curtain closed. We held hands and bowed, and I kept my eyes locked on Nate’s until the heavy fabric of the curtain cut us off from each other. My heart sank at the separation, hitting the bottom of my belly with a thud. He wasn’t there to watch and be proud of me. He wasn’t silently supporting me. He was there to steal the takings. I felt sickness and longing all in one moment, and I wished I could go home and curl up on the sofa with my cat. But I had girls I’d promised pizza to.

“Who’s ready to go out and celebrate?” I asked, putting on a fake smile and steeling myself for the inevitable phone call the following day, telling me that the money was gone.