6
Andie.
The slipup at the park had drawn her to the surface of Ava’s consciousness, and she bolted awake at a small hour that night with Andie’s name in her mouth. Her breath was tight and shallow. She could hear her heartbeat as loudly as if she were underwater. She squinted through the dark at Brutus, curled asleep on his Dreamy Dog Bed.
‘Brutus,’ Ava whispered. She patted her Comfortable Mattress. She never let him up on her Principled Bed, but she would make an exception this time. Slowly he rose, stretched, ambled toward her.
Andie.
Andie had been driving, and Ava had been in the passenger seat. Ava’s father, Ira, shared the backseat with Ava’s mother, Joan. Her parents were discussing hydrangeas. The hydrangeas had done very well that year. Ava’s mother was chalking it up to th
