Hopefully.
And tomorrow was my birthday. Thirty-one.
I nearly had a meltdown when I turned thirty. I couldn’t stand the idea of aging into a new decade. I wasn’t ready to let go of my twenties and the youthfulness they represented. Thirties seemed too mature for me. Too grown up.
But Nick had been the one that made it amazing. He’d given me bouquets of thirty things all day long. He kept having them delivered to my classroom until my desk had overflowed and I had to set things along the windowsill.
Thirty pink roses. Thirty cans of Diet Coke. Thirty Snickers Bars. Thirty brand new red Sharpies. Thirty dollars for my Kindle. Thirty dollars to Garmans Deli. Thirty packs of my favorite gum.
I had to make three trips out to the car to carry it all, but he was at home to help me haul it all inside. Then he’d taken me to a bar called Thirty and Clover. The food had been awful and we’d laughed about it all night. He had leaned over the table at the end of the night and said, “See? Thirty isn’t so bad.”
The next day we’d fought about something stupid. I couldn’t remember what it was now. But I knew we didn’t speak to each other for four days.
Two months later I demanded a divorce.
Annie and I walked around the corner of our block. I could see our cute house, up a little hill. The grass had started to peak out from beneath the melting piles of snow. It was still dead and brown, but at least I could see it.
It felt like hope.
It felt like change.
Mrs. Dunn was outside getting her mail and I stopped to talk to her. I hadn’t seen her in months. She was an elderly woman. Most of the people on our street were elderly or young parents with wild kids running everywhere. There wasn’t much in between.
“Hi, Mrs. Dunn.” I smiled at her and paused on the sidewalk. The leash hung loosely in my fingertips while Annie skipped around Mrs. Dunn’s pink velour jogging suit.
“Hi, Kate.” She bent over to pat Annie on the head. “Hi, pretty girl. Out for a walk?”
“It’s so nice today. We couldn’t resist.” Across the street, young kids bounded into their driveway with a basketball.
“Seems like everybody needs to get out of the house today,” Mrs. Dunn smiled across the street at the children playing. “Do you know the Jacksons? Nice family. The kids are sweet.” She gave me a sideways glance, “Loud, but sweet.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Mrs. Dunn thought the mailman was too loud.
I looked across the street as the basketball hit the rim of the hoop and bounced backward. It rolled off the end of the driveway and into the street. I watched in horror as the littlest girl ran for the ball just as a car came zooming down the street, way too fast for a neighborhood.
I threw my hands up to warn her to stop, but her older brother grabbed the back of her shirt just in time. I sucked in a gasping breath because my nightmare wasn’t over.
When I’d panicked about the little girl, I dropped the leash. Annie had raced into the street to get the ball. The car saw her, but couldn’t stop soon enough and my poor little Annie girl was caught under the tire.
I watched it all in a slow-motion nightmare. The car couldn’t get out of the way fast enough. I heard her pained yelp and leaped into motion. I followed her into the street, scooping her up in my arms as I sunk to my knees on the damp, cold pavement. She was filthy from our walk and soaking wet. Blood mingled with her wet, dirty fur, turning it a sickly brown color.
I sunk my fingers into her sticky coat, beyond terrified that she had died, that the monster in the car had killed her. Her little lungs trembled with the effort to breath. They shook in her small chest while her head rolled listlessly in my arms.