“Okay. Sure. I feel so bad, Mom.”
“Me too, kid. She's my best friend, and… well, there's nothing I can say. You'll get that when you're a parent someday. Your children are your life.” We didn't talk much on the short drive to the Stones', just listened to the sounds of the eighties in the background on the radio. My mom held my hand like she did when I was five as we climbed up the steps to the front door. She knocked lightly before walking in.
“Karen?” my mom called out.
“In the kitchen!” We walked in to find her with a measuring tape standing on top of the counter. “Hi! Could one of you do me a favor and pull this over to the end of those cabinets?” I grabbed the edge and pulled like she asked until I was on the other side of the kitchen reading out measurements.
“What are you going
