entirely and throw on the yoga pants that had never actually been to a yoga class. Three hundred and sixty-four days of the year Micah chose to give up before she started and donned the yoga pants.
“Gawd, I love this city at night! Why don’t we do this anymore?” Sabina twirled as she walked, arms wide open, head thrown back. She stumbled a little in her four-inch heels on the uneven cobblestone, but Jamie was quick to catch her.
“Because we have jobs and lives and because only college students and creepy old people hit up this part of Boston on a Friday night.”
“If you are going to have any hope of fun tonight, you’re going to have to change that attitude of yours,” Hanna said as she pursed her lips and quirked her eyebrows.
“My attitude? I don’t have an at—” Okay, maybe she did. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I don’t plan on having any fun tonight. So there.” What was she? Five?
“It’s Drew’s night. Fun is a requirement.”
“I never agreed to that rule.” She looked over at Jamie. Although he was Drew’s cousin, they had been more like brothers. She knew out of everyone that he would understand. But in his typical quiet-guy fashion, he shrugged his shoulders, telling her she was on her own.
“C’mon, Micah. Drew lived for stuff like this, so if we’re really going to honor his memory like we have for years, then we need to have fun. You included. This is what he would have wanted and you know it.”
“He would not want a droopy-faced, depressed version of his Micah,” Josh said as he put his arm around her to soften his words. “I know these anniversaries are hard on you, but you’ve made it through nine already. What’s so different about this one? You can do it. I know you can.”
Micah couldn’t refute that. She had done just fine these last ten years. So why was this one so hard on her?
The crisp Boston air sent a chill through her body. She pulled her coat up higher around her neck and buried in closer to Josh, allowing his sheer size to block the cold October winds whipping between the buildings.
“Cold?” Josh asked as he pulled her closer and moved his hand up and down her arm in an effort to warm her. “You care to explain why you ignored all my texts today?”
“Not really.”
“So you don’t deny it?”
“No. I was ignoring you.”
“How much ice cream did you eat today?”
“None of your business.”
“What am I going to do with you?” He kept his arm around her and flashed her one of his smiles.
“I may need to rethink my vice, though. I think I’ve put on five pounds in the last couple months. Even my stretchy pants are starting to feel snug.”
“Now that’s just bad.”
“Shut up. It’s a sensitive subject.”
Josh’s deep laughter rumbled through his chest, but he got the hint and stopped talking about it.
Every sixth of October the five of them went to the same pub in downtown Boston. They would toast to the memory of Drew and talk about favorite memories, but Micah sensed this year would be different. She couldn’t quite figure out what had changed until they sat down around their usual table and ordered a round of drinks. Scanning the faces of her closest friends, she knew then that Sabina had been right. They had moved on while she was still stuck—stuck in her painful memories.
The truth hit her like a ton of bricks. She had been living in denial. It was a comfortable and easy place to live. Never addressing reality. Never addressing the pain. Never allowing herself to truly grieve the loss of her first love—her only love.
Jamie raised his glass. “Here’s to Drew.”
Five glasses lifted in unison as she wondered if they all knew what she had just come to realize. Did they know she hadn’t dealt with her grief? Were they okay with that? She continued to watch them. It was if they were all thinking the same thing: What now?
The guys turned their attention to the game playing on the TVs around them. The girls were playing with their phones. For a moment Micah wondered if this might be the last of the tradition she held so sacred.
Hanna’s phone buzzed. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll be right back.”
Sabina had been whisked away by a group of guys, while Josh had seen some friends at the bar, leaving Jamie and Micah alone. Silence stretched between them. Running her finger across the top of her glass, she wasn’t sure what to say. Her mind was still trying to grasp its latest discovery.
Her mother had taken her to a counselor when the tragedy first happened. The counselor hadn’t said much, just listened while Micah talked through the emotions that were affecting every area of her life. She’d walked away from the session deciding she wouldn’t let the pain control her anymore.
Micah had been certain that her grief could be controlled and normalcy restored. So every year, she allowed herself a period of time to grieve. There was no point in thinking about it or dwelling on it all the time. By limiting herself she was able to ignore the pain until eventually she became numb to it. That was how she had survived.
But as the ten-year anniversary approached, she’d sensed this one would be a more difficult to get through, and allowed herself some extra time. However, she’d failed to anticipate the extent of just how difficult it would be. Thoughts of what her life could have been, what she and Drew might have been doing now.
Micah caught Jamie looking down at his watch. “You have somewhere to be?”
“Actually, yeah. I’ve got a ton of work to do back at the house.” He dragged his hand down his face. He looked physically and emotionally drained.
“On a Friday night?”
“Yeah. On a farm, my job is never ending. Sorry to do this to you, but I really should go.”
“Fine. Go.”
He pressed a quick kiss on her cheek and headed out. Micah shook her head. Jamie was the last one she’d expected to cut out on this ritual. If Jamie could give up on it so easily, then maybe this faithful five wasn’t as indestructible as she had once thought.
The fact that he had bailed on this commitment, this promise they had made, poured anger into her cocktail of raging emotions. Sure, by now they should all have moved on. But show some respect. This was a tradition among friends. Sacred. It was honoring the memory of a friend they all held dear. But now they acted as if Drew didn’t matter to them anymore. Was she the only one who felt this cavernous hole where he’d once existed?
Of course, she had been oblivious to it until recently. Numb to the pain that had festered over time. And just when she had let it out, it was like a snowball, building and building until her grief was out of control. She took a deep swallow of her drink and finished it off, then reached for the ones Hanna and Sabina had left behind.
Years ago, her sadness had seemed like something she could handle with a modicum of ease. So where had she gone wrong? Somewhere along the
