The Verona Cove bonfire is always on the first Saturday after the Fourth of July. No one knows who started the tradition. I’m not even sure who brings the firewood or buys the keg. Or why the police let it happen. Silas has this theory that the cops let us get it out of our system this one night a year. Probably saves them trouble for the rest of the summer. The usual crowd is high school– and college-aged townies. It’s an unspoken rule: no one under fifteen, and you age out after college. A few vacationers are invited, but mostly the ones who have stayed in Verona Cove every summer of their lives. From a calendar standpoint, they’re one-fourth townie.
Naomi decided to walk from our house to the beach with me and Vivi, a surprise to both of us. Not that she’s said anything on our walk. Vivi has skipped beside me the whole way, asking about who will be here (everyone) and whether there will be fireworks (yes, but just little ones). In Vivi’s presence, it’s impossible to deny that I’m weighed down. She’s buoyant, feet barely tapping the sand she walks on. Her body seems subject to less gravity than the rest of us. Naomi has always been thin, and her bony shoulders hunch forward a bit. I always thought she had bad posture. I never considered that she’s been as weighed down as I am, except for longer. Even before my dad died, Naomi worried like it was a hobby. About grades, about college, about money, about the other five of us, the environment and pollution. Seriously.
“Wow,” Vivi says, “I mean, would you just look at these stars—they’re unreal. I love this, being away from any city lights. It feels like if you walked off one of the cliff sides, you could step on each star like lily pads in water and jump from one to another to make your way through the whole solar system.”
With that, she wraps one arm around me and jumps up to peck me on the cheek. I don’t have to look to know Naomi is rolling her eyes. I smile anyway, even though Vivi tugging at me splinters the pain in my already-aching back.
My whole body is sore from working on the restaurant patio all week, in addition to watching the littles and working my usual shifts. On the first day, I hauled all the miscellaneous crap away. Half of it went into the shed out back and the other half went to the dump. I called Silas to bring the car and help me move an old, busted oven to the junkyard. Yesterday, I ripped up the weed infestation, but I left the ivy. Silas showed up, even though I didn’t ask him to. We worked silently, me pulling at the deep-rooted weeds with all my force and Silas rerouting the electrical cords and testing which lights still work.
Today, I borrowed a power washer from Mr. Thomas, who owns the hardware store beside the restaurant. The patio is, at least, empty and clean. Everyone who uses the alleyway as a shortcut said how great it looks. Mrs. Kowalski said she wants a reservation for the first night the patio opens. I hadn’t even thought that far ahead, but Silas and I thanked her anyway. Maybe it’s lame, but it feels good to sweat for something I care about. The patio looks a little better each day, measurable progress in front of my eyes. I don’t even mind the ache. I’m used to it.
The fire roars in the distance, and there are dark forms all around it. I can smell the smoke already, hear the laughing and chatter. Last year, I came with my friend Zach and a few other guys from the baseball team. I spent most of the night hanging with them and flirting with Sarah. That was when she was a cute Yorkie, not a yippy one. Since I didn’t do baseball last spring, I don’t even really see those guys anymore. But I can’t let myself think about this—about how much can change in a year. It feels like someone driving the heel of their hand into my nose, in a street fight I didn’t know I was in.
As we make our way into the masses, people call out greetings, mostly to Vivi. We pause for a moment as Naomi says hello to a group of old friends and Adam, the guy she dated in high school. When I look back for Vivi, she’s a few yards away. She’s chatting with Dane Farrow like she knows him. And she’s already holding a beer.
Dane Farrow is a lowlife. That’s the word my dad would have used. Kids at school go to Dane for drugs because his older brother deals. He does, too, by association—pot and Ritalin, I think. He leaves the harder stuff to his brother. I never really think about guys like Dane. I mean, what do I care what he does? Verona Cove is kind of a hippie town, so it’s not like weed is a big deal here. But I don’t love Vivi talking to him.
When Vivi makes her way back to me, I eye her. “How do you know Dane Farrow?”
“Hmmmm,” she says, drawing it out. She’s openly considering what to tell me. Like, how and to what degree she will lie. “We have a mutual friend.”
“Named Mary Jane?”
Vivi giggles like it was a joke. “He knows Whitney. I met him at work. Oh, relax, Jonah; don’t give me that face. What Dane sells is ditch weed; I’d never buy from him.”
Would she buy from someone else? We’ve never talked about it. I’ve smoked before with friends but never bought weed. Furthest thing from my mind these days.
“Jonah, Naomi, hey!” Ellie’s waving at us, walking over from a group of sophomores. “You came!”
She hugs Naomi and gives me a shy wave, saying, “I saw the patio, Jonah. It looks so great!”
I nod. “Thanks. It’s getting there. Ellie, this is Vivi.”
“His girlfriend,” Vivi adds. We haven’t had the definition conversation. I try not to react in surprise. Or relief.
“It’s so good to meet you!” Ellie’s tone is genuine as she sticks out her hand. Vivi shakes it daintily, as if Ellie is someone she’d rather not touch. “Leah talked about you nonstop last time I saw her.”
Vivi gives her that painted-on smile again, but it’s more than her lipstick. She looks like a doll with a permanent smile forced onto her face. “Huh. I haven’t heard about you.”
I frown because of course Vivi has heard of her. “Ellie is Felix’s oldest daughter, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” Vivi fake-smiles still. “Right.”
I feel like I’m a gazelle about to be mauled by two lions.
“C’mon, El,” Naomi says, taking her hand. “Walk with me to the keg.”
Without another word to Vivi, they’re both gone. Maybe Naomi meant to save me, which I guess she did. But it still seemed like she was excluding Vivi on purpose.
“Sorry about Naomi.” I sit down on the nearest log, and Vivi cuddles up beside me. These logs are another Verona Cove mystery, our Stonehenge. They’re huge, like petrified wood or something. They curve around the bonfire pit, unused for 364 days a year. “It’s not you. She’s just like that. It takes her forever to like people, but she’s known Ellie forever.”
“Oh, give her a break, Jonah.” She takes a long drink of her beer. “God, guys are so dense—like, honestly, I can’t tell you how much your daily lives would improve if you figured out how to read body language.”
I blink at her, sort of pissed. “What?”
She sighs, flicking her glance over to Adam. “When that guy talked to her, Naomi totally put on a face. I’ve never seen her look so friendly and pleasant, but it exhausted her. I don’t know who he is, but I can tell his presence has this, like, major effect on her.”
“He’s her ex.” Naomi never gave details about their breakup, and I never asked. She mentioned it once, very matter-of-fact, around the time she left for college last year. It’s like when someone eats something bad and tells you they “got sick.” You don’t ask for details. You understand that the situation sucked, and that’s all you need. “You think she’s still hung up on him?”
“Maybe not hung up on. But definitely hurt.” Vivi rolls her eyes at me. “Honestly, Jonah, I don’t know how you can live in the same house as someone who is heartbroken without sensing it. I’ve known since the first night I met Naomi, obviously, because I can smell heartbreak on a person. It smells like incense, sweet but burning.”
I want to tell her that I live with six heartbroken people, one of whom is catatonic. That kind of heartbreak smells like the aftermath of a car wreck, like hot metal. Oil. The chalky powder released by airbags.
“Anyway.” She glances to see that Naomi’s walking back over. “I’m going to go find Tasha real quick. Be nice to your sister.”
I have no idea who Tasha is. Vivi flies off in a flash of blond and bare legs. I figured Naomi would nag me if I had a drink tonight, but she’s holding two beer cans.
“Here,” she says, taking Vivi’s place on the log. “I got us decent ones instead of the piss they’re calling keg beer.”
She hands me a can and cracks open another for herself. “Cheers. To surviving this endless, fucking awful year.”
Here’s hoping. I knock my can against hers. It makes a thin, aluminum clink, and we both take long drinks.
“She’s really something, isn’t she?” My sister’s dark eyes are watching Vivi, who is locked into conversation with some guy who is clearly not Tasha. She’s laughing, occasionally pushing at his arm. I mean, she’s openly flirting with him. But then she catches me looking and puckers her lips like kissing me from yards away. Her red lips stand out in the moonlight.
“Yeah.” I chance a sidelong look at Naomi. “You’d like her if you got to know her.”
The fire snaps in front of us, and a log splits within it. Naomi is quiet for what feels like a long time. Finally, she says, “I’m just trying to hold it together.”
This isn’t exactly an excuse for her perpetual bad mood. But I know what she means. “So is Vivi.”
I don’t know how I know this, but I do. I’ve never asked about the scar on her left wrist, jagged and intentional. She wears long sleeves almost all the time or, if she’s in her bathing suit, an armful of bracelets. Isaac asked about the scar once, and Vivi told an elaborate story about getting attacked by a bear while camping near Mount Rainier. She’s never told me the real story other than to say she isn’t afraid of darkness. I believe her. Every once in a while, her temper flashes. It’s like she’s exhausted from beating down her demons.
I’m not sure how much time passes, sitting beside my sister. It feels like we’re the only people who are still and sober. Everyone else creates a loud, smoky blur around us. Drinking with my sister doesn’t feel weird like I thought it would. This past year made us the same age: old. Because we have real problems. Not that so-and-so broke up with me or I failed a biology test or will I get into Berkeley? Naomi and I are the grizzled adults drinking silently at the bar while the college kids grind on the dance floor.
When Vivi reappears, she has the guy she was flirting with in tow. Yay for me.
“Naomi, this is Ethan,” she says, with mischief in her voice. “I was just telling him how you’re doing an internship for your environmental engineering major.”
Naomi doesn’t smile, too suspicious of Vivi’s motives. “Oh yeah?”
“I’m a junior at Stanford.” Ethan talks fast, genuinely excited for some reason. His hands clasp against his chest like Naomi doesn’t understand the pronoun I. And his eyes are locked onto my sister in a way that makes me want to punch him. “Majoring in environmental engineering.”
This changes Naomi’s expression. She softens, now looking at Ethan in wonderment. My sister is such a nerd for science, and no one in our house ever wants to hear about it. She gave up a long time ago. “I’m at Cal Poly!”
“What’s your internship emphasis?” he asks. Vivi crosses her arms, triumphant.
“I’ve been compiling a lot of pollutant data—NPS and indicator bacteria mostly. But I get to transition to some groundwater-remediation-type stuff soon.”
“That’s so cool. I’m working at an environmental law agency this summer because I’m thinking about going to law school. We have a big Clean Water Act case right now.”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Captain Planet,” Vivi says, touching Ethan’s arm in her overly familiar way. “But this is more boring than watching glue dry.”
Vivi’s candor can be charming. It can also be rude as all hell. Naomi looks ready to throw her into the Pacific, but then Ethan chuckles. “She’s right.”
His eyes stay fixed on Naomi. “I’m actually kind of hungry. Do you want to walk to the diner? I think it’s still open. I’d love to pick your brain about the environmental influences on Verona Cove.”
“Sure.” Naomi rises to her feet. I’m not used to seeing my sister’s face so open and untroubled. “I’d love to.”
They head off together toward town without even saying good-bye. I can hear him telling her that he grew up in landlocked Colorado, that Verona Cove’s ocean life and varying terrain are fascinating to him. I stand, like I’m going to chase him down and warn him: if you hurt my sister, I will bludgeon you with a tree branch. Or drown you in unclean water. Or whatever you do to maim and insult an environmental engineer.
“Down, boy,” Vivi says, patting my arm. “He’s an Eagle Scout. Literally. We talked about it.”
“I’ve never even seen that guy before! He could be . . . a murderer.”
She rolls her eyes. “Violet Cunningham is his cousin. It’s not like he’s a drifter who hitchhiked into town with a rusty sickle.”
Violet’s a lifelong vacationer and well-liked enough to get a bonfire invite. But still.
“Besides,” Vivi says, jabbing her elbow into mine. “Check that out.”
Naomi and Ethan walk past her ex-boyfriend and his group of friends. She doesn’t even glance over. And maybe, to Vivi, it seems like matchmaking. But it honestly took me this long to realize that maybe my sister just needs a friend. She comes home from her internship and looks after the littles. She goes upstairs to handle money stuff with my mom; she cleans up around the house and does laundry and grocery shops, same as the rest of us. I can’t remember the last time I saw her with someone her own age.
“That’s what I call killing two birds with one stone. Except I would never kill one bird, let alone two, so that’s not really the right adage. But there’s no adage for, like: gave one bird a cute boy named Ethan and made another bird named Adam jealous. Oh! Speaking of which. I’m getting a birthday dinner on the patio, right?”
The change in subject takes me a moment. “Right.”
“Great, okay, so I’ve been promising Leah I’d help with her peacock costume, but she wants there to be an occasion, and my birthday party seems like a good one. So I want everyone to come to dinner, and I want everyone to dress up like their favorite animal because that will make everything perfect for me.”
“Yeah, all right. Why not?” For the thousandth time in the weeks I’ve known Vivi, I wonder, What the hell have I gotten myself into?
“Hooray! Oh, and don’t forget to invite Officer Hayashi.”
Like I would forget a request like that. I still don’t quite understand their connection. I know they eat breakfast together some mornings. And I know that, last week, as Officer Hayashi was leaving Tony’s, he pointed at me and said, You be good to that girl. Then he patted the handcuffs on his belt all menacingly.
“Hey, Vivi!” someone calls from closer to the water. I’ve lived in this town my whole life, and Vivi has more friends.
“Be right back,” she says, kissing my cheek. “Don’t move, okay? We’re talking more about my anthropomorphic birthday party. Isn’t that a great word, anthropomorphic? I’m not sure if I said it right, but who the hell gets to decide how people use language anyway? I could make up my own language if I wanted to; there’s no council that certifies these things, and . . .”
“Viv,” I say. “Someone called for you.”
“Oh, right!” She kisses me on the mouth this time, hands on either side of my chin, before running off.
I sit by myself without even looking around for someone else to talk to. I had weird motivations for coming here tonight. It wasn’t to have fun. I guess I wanted to represent my family. Like, look, we’re okay. Two of us are here. I even have a girlfriend. But all that feels stupid now. We’re not okay, and there’s no point in pretending. By the time I finish my beer, I’m ready to go home. I’ve made an appearance; I’ve said hi. I don’t have a happy face, but even my I’m-okay face is tired.
Vivi startles me out of my introspection, back by my side and pulling at my hand the way Leah does. “C’mon, c’mon. It’s time for skinny-dipping!”
It takes me a second. I’ve heard skinny-dipping happened at a bonfire a few years ago, when I was too young to attend. “What? No.”
“Yeah! Oh, c’mon, it’ll be fun.” She taps my nose with the tip of her finger and glances intentionally downward. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Is she serious? Or teasing me to get a reaction? I can never tell. “Viv, there’s no way I’m getting naked in front of everyone I know.”
“Oh my God, Jonah.” She rolls her eyes, and I feel like the parent of a teenager on a sitcom. “It’s dark! And you’ll be in the water. No one will even see.”
“Yes, they will.” Most of the time, I feel drunk on Vivi. Light-headed and wanting more, more, more. But then there are moments where being with her feels like a cruel hangover. Or maybe it’s just that I am cast in the role of Buzzkill. “And I don’t want everyone here to see you naked either.”
“Okay. I’ll keep my underthings on, then. For you. Out of love.” Before I can tell her that’s not really what I meant, she’s off and running, already peeling off her shirt. I want to yell at her to stop, please, that this is weird. But the words feel like gunky oatmeal in my mouth, stuck to my tongue. I don’t want to be this deadweight, un-fun guy. It’s just that I’ve never seen Vivi wear a bra that isn’t lacy and totally see-through, and I don’t want other people . . . you know, seeing through it. I want to be the only one who sees the colorful flower tattoo on her side—the one that she hates.
There’s a group of at least ten people at the edge of the water, stripping down. Even more run down to the shoreline when they realize what’s happening. Seeing a big group of naked people is surreal. My instinct is to look away because staring seems wrong. The guys are stark naked, but most of the girls are keeping their underwear on. Vivi’s right; it’s hard to see in the darkness. As the group runs into the water, they’re a nude blur.
Of course, everyone on the shore is encouraging them. I’m relieved that Naomi left. Because there’s probably nothing weirder than your sister seeing your girlfriend almost naked. Resigned, I find my spot on one of the logs. They’re well into the waves, and I sigh.
“Hey.” A slim figure appears between me and the bonfire, and I look up to find Ellie smiling down at me.
“Hey.”
“So, my dad tells me you’re testing out some menu changes.” She sits next to me on the log, adjusting her skirt beneath her. “He’s really proud.”
“Thanks.” Proud—like a dad. I don’t really know how to feel about that. Which reminds me.
“Hey.” I drop my voice even though no one is really close. “Can I ask you a weird question?”
She nods.
“Do you know who owns the restaurant? Like half your dad, half my dad? And what now? Since my dad is—”
“Yeah, it’s fifty-fifty. Your dad’s half went to your mom.” She smiles the tiniest bit. “I overheard. When your brother gets in as much trouble as Diego used to, you get really good at eavesdropping.”
“So have you, um . . . heard your dad say anything? About how the restaurant is doing?”
She considers this, really mulling it over. Her brows drop and her lips pinch together. “No. But he’s seemed stressed, and I’ve walked in on a few conversations where my mom and dad abruptly stopped talking. I figured it was about my brother’s new girlfriend or something. Why?”
If Felix wanted Ellie to know, he would have told her. It’s probably not fair to make her worry. But, based on the way she’s looking at me, I think that ship has left the harbor. “Don’t tell your dad I told you, okay? But I accidentally saw some papers that make it seem like we’re a little . . . behind on payments.”
“Huh.” The fire reflects back in her dark eyes. “I didn’t know. I had no idea.”
“I don’t want your dad to know that I know, but I’m trying to figure out what I can do.”
She nods slowly. I understand how hard it is to process. I didn’t think about money, let alone worry about it, for almost sixteen years of my life. Worrying about money makes you old. Eventually, she gives a wispy sigh. “Well, I want to help. I’ll try to come up with some ideas, too.”
“Without your dad knowing.”
Ellie gives me a smile, like she understands that this is about protecting him. And, somehow, my dad, too. “Without my dad knowing.”
The skinny-dippers are back near the bonfire now, pooling around the shore to get dressed. It’s a miracle no one stole the clothes. A voluptuous blonde is turning cartwheels in her bra and panties—a thong, no less. Ah, yes. My girlfriend, bare-assed in front of everyone I know. I want to jump into the bonfire.
“So,” I say, trying to sound like I think it’s funny. “That’s Vivi.”
Ellie laughs, and I expect her to give me a look of judgment—I feel like I deserve to be judged—but her kind smile remains. “Good for her. I’d totally do it. Skinny-dipping, I mean. But Diego’s stupid friends are here, and they’d probably tattle to my parents. Maybe next year.”
I smile over at her. Maybe I’m being judgmental. Vivi’s having fun—that’s all. “I think she’s had more than a few beers. Sorry she was kind of weird to you earlier.”
Ellie waves my apology off. She looks all around us for a moment, at the people laughing, at our town. “Do you remember last summer, us talking about leaving Verona Cove?”
“Yeah.” We were closing up, wiping down tables at the restaurant.
She’s watching my face in the firelight. “Do you still feel that way? Even on nights like tonight?”
I nod. We’d both admitted that we want to leave after high school. That we love our families. We love the people and knowing a place so well. But, as Ellie put it, sometimes you can’t breathe. “And I feel guiltier than ever, you know? How could I want to leave the place . . . my dad . . . ?”
“He’d want you to.” She gathers her skirt to stand up. “We can always come back! See what’s out there. It’ll still be here. Well, I’ll see you soon.”
She’s probably smart to leave before Vivi gets back. When I look around, I find Vivi posing for a picture with someone I don’t even recognize. Wearing just her bra and underwear. That’s it. I haven’t seen how much she’s had to drink, but clearly too much.
I walk up, unamused, but she’s bubbling over as she buttons her shorts. “Hey! Ahh, that was such a rush—you seriously missed out, Jonah, I mean it.”
Her charming ball of energy routine isn’t going to work on me. I’m embarrassed and mad. “Great. We need to go home now.”
“No! What? No way, it’s just getting fun.”
I drop my voice to a whisper. “Viv, you’re drunk. And I think we need to leave. Before any more people have almost-nude pics of you.”
“Excuse me.” She snaps her fingers at her sides, over and over, and I keep expecting to smell the booze on her. Her eyes look bleary, like she’s struggling to focus. “I’m not a child, and it’s my body, and I can run wild if I damn well please, and screw you for judging me. What do you care what I do, anyway? You’re so busy flirting with Ellie.”
This stuns me. I stand mute. “That’s not what it’s like at all.”
She makes a disgusted face. “Ellie. It sounds like a little kid’s name.”
“Short for Eliana.” Shit, I think, seeing Vivi’s eyes narrow. Should have kept my mouth shut.
“Well, isn’t that special. What’s her middle name? What’s her favorite color? Do you just know everything about her?”
Now I’m just mad and swinging back. “Carmen, green, and you’re being ridiculous. C’mon, we’re leaving.”
This was the wrong thing to say, too. I never say the right thing.
“No, no, no!” Her voice is so loud that my face goes hot. “I can’t even look at you right now, with the way you’re behaving, Jonah; truly, it’s not okay.”
“Feeling’s mutual, Viv,” I whisper. “But I’m not leaving you here by yourself, wasted.”
“Damn right you’re not. I’m leaving you here, non-wasted.” Before I can get even a single word in, she takes off skipping toward the hill that leads back up toward town. I don’t bother to call out to her. I don’t bother to follow. So much for putting on a good show at the bonfire. People have totally noticed our conversation, staring as Vivi takes off.
I stalk toward home, my sister’s words echoing in my head. I just want to survive this endless, fucking awful year.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been asleep when I hear the latch on my bedroom door.
“It’s okay, Leah,” I murmur. “It was just a dream. You’re okay. Everyone’s okay.”
But she doesn’t say anything. I hear the door lock, and I sit up, suddenly wide awake. Vivi wafts in with the scent of campfire smoke and beer. She crawls up the bed, her body warm and suddenly next to mine. “Are you mad at me?”
“How did you get in here?” My room is on the top floor—just low-beam attic space with my bed and desk. She couldn’t have gotten up using the roof.
She sighs as if my common sense is exhausting to her. “Silas let me in. He fell asleep on the couch. Are you? Mad?”
“I don’t know.” I really don’t. And, right now, all I can think is that my mom or younger siblings will catch us in here. “I’m . . . confused.”
“Okay. About what.”
“I thought we had a good thing here. And then you strip down in front of every guy I go to school with? And you’re mad that I don’t like it? But then you freak out when I talk to another girl?”
Sound needier, Jonah, seriously. But I won’t take it back. It’s true.
“Jonah.” Her whisper shivers in the air between us. “I’m trying to live to the fullest; I’m trying to feel everything. I prioritize experiences over anything or anyone, and maybe that isn’t easy for you to accept, and I’m sorry, but that’s who I am.”
A non-apology. I didn’t expect one anyway—not her style.
Vivi shifts across my twin bed, straddling herself over me. She looks right into my face. “Jonah, I think you’re a wonderful person with a soul that reaches so far beyond your years. And maybe the humane thing to do would be to leave you alone because I’m not ever going to be some kind of dutiful, well-behaved girlfriend. But I don’t want to leave you alone.”
It is very, very hard to think with her on top of me. “Dutiful? I don’t even want whatever you just said.”
“Okay. Then how about you just let me be me, and I’ll let you be you. We’ll feel everything we feel and not apologize for it. If we get mad at each other, we’ll have it out. And then we’ll make up.”
That’s just it: Vivi does allow me to be myself. She never shoves me out of my sad moods. She never tries to talk me out of my frustrations. Vivi is all action—let’s go to the beach, let’s write a play, let’s build an ice-cream sundae bar at the house and then play Candy Land while watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory with the littles.
She leans close to me, offering her lips for the taking. “Jonah. Make up with me.”
I pull her in and kiss her. With teeth against her lips. Because I’m still mad. And because we fit together. And even when we don’t, clashing only makes more sparks.
In the movies, the music always starts up right about now, slowly louder with a solid beat. When a girl sneaks into your bedroom, it’s surprisingly quiet. But everything sounds loud for fear of being caught—mouths against skin, pieces of clothing dropping to the floor. Heavy breathing and the drone of the thought, This is happening, this is happening. And eventually the sound of your own voice asking, Are you sure? What you get in return is, apparently, a muffled giggle and the words, Yes. God, you’re so cute. It kills me. You try not to think that it seems so casual for her. You try to convince yourself you feel the same. But you don’t. Your feelings fill the room like an angry fire. Your feelings for her could blow the glass out of the windows.
When I wake up in the morning, she’s gone. The sheets are pulled back from her side, and there’s a black Sharpie on the floor that I guess fell off my desk when I was fumbling around for a condom. It takes me until I’m getting dressed to notice, on the wood of my headboard where it meets the mattress, tiny letters: Vivi was here.
As if I’d forget.