Page 82 of Counting the Days

Rhea looked out the window at the darkening sky and said, “Should we go soon?”

“Uh-huh, very soon, we’re just waiting on…some people.”

“Tiny…?”

“Well, if I told you they were joining us, you wouldn’t’ve come.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone. But I swear to God, it’s gonna make you feel better to be around a lot of people. But if they ask, tell themyoucalledme. I do not wanna hear a fuckin’ boundary speech from Ada.”

Zoe and her family arrived first. Zoe’s older daughter was Alice. The new baby was the Cheshire Cat, David was the Mad Hatter, and Zoe was the evil Queen of Hearts, which Rhea found amusingly apropos.

“Rhea! You’re here!” Zoe embraced her. “Thank God. We’ve been so worried about you. But honestly, my love, I had a bad feeling about Danny right from jump street, and I’m so relieved you ditched him.”

Everything about Zoe’s words hurt. Rhea did not want anyone to think ill of Danny; she loved Danny more than she could ever put into words. Also, why did people wait for something to go bad and then say, “I knew that was going to go bad”?If you knew it was going to go bad, you should have told me before it went bad!Rhea just imposed a smile and told them how adorable their family costume was.

The Achebe-Millers arrived next. Ada was dressed as Wendy. Marcus was Captain Hook. Chichi and Ekele were both Peter Pan, and sweet little Obinna was stuffed into a Tinkerbellcostume; he kept pulling his wings to his mouth so he could suck on them. Ada Achebe was living Rhea’s dream life, Neverland and all.

Ada screamed when she saw Rhea and hugged her for so long that Ekele started to cry for attention.

“I’m so happy you’re here, Ree Kee! I feel like I never got a chance to properly thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?”

All Rhea could think about was how guilty she felt that Obinna was three months old and they’d never met.

“For what?For watching Chichi and Ekele. For saving our butts. And for my Meal Train.”

The one thing Rhea had managed to do for all of her postpartum friends was set up a Meal Train, which allowed everyone in their community to sign up on an app for a time slot to send food to their growing household, thus giving the exhausted parents a break from cooking. This was something Rhea was able to do remotely, so she did not have to change out of her stained sweatpants.

Each time Rhea set up a Meal Train, she would think about those grueling few months when she first opened the boutique: the long hours, the stress, the uncertainty. How lovely it would have been if someone had set up a Meal Train for her during that time, but birthing a store did not count; only birthing a human deserved that kind of communal support.

“Oh, you’re so welcome. It was the least I could do.”

“I miss you so much. Never leave my side again,” Ada said with her arm around Rhea.

Ekele was yanking at the hem of his mom’s blue Wendy dress, screaming at top volume.

“Okay, okay, little man.” Ada picked him up and promptly left Rhea’s side.

They headed out into Tiny’s neighborhood to knock on the doors of the immensely wealthy. Where Rhea grew up,onehouse on the block went all out with tombstones, cobwebs, and mannequins wrapped in toilet paper. Where Tiny lived, every house on the block went far beyond that.

Each residence had at least twenty jack-o’-lanterns on its porch, made out of real pumpkins, lit by real wax candles. One had a giant skeleton peering into their third-story window. Another had turned their front yard into a cemetery so realistic they’d even installed a rusty gate around the whole thing and a metal sign engraved withSteinberg Family Cemetery: Enter if You Dare.

“Trick or treat?!” the kids screamed after they rang their first doorbell.

As much as the spirit of Halloween tried to get Rhea to enjoy herself, she could not. The entire neighborhood had been taken over by people in family costumes, as if Rhea needed more of a reason to feel ostracized. They were all wearing uniforms that represented their blood ties. She, almost certainly, was the only person in a family costume who was not a member of that family.

As they moved down the block, she watched her friends be parents and spouses, watched them protect and guide their children. They were all so useful, so wanted. Rhea was a dead limb. She did not need to be there; there was no reason for her to exist.

Bitter feelings rose in her throat, and it was not just because she was dressed as a lemon. She regretted leaving her house; it was too soon. The more she thought about it, trick-or-treating in a family neighborhood was the absolute worst thing for her to be doing. Glomming on to her friends’ lives, stuffing herself into their happy fruit bowl. She had to get out of there before she rotted and spoiled the whole barrel.

In the most cheerful voice she could concoct, she said, “I think I’m gonna head home.”

They had only hit five houses. Rhea was standing on the sidewalk with Ada, Tiny, and Zoe, each of their fingers curled around the handlebars of a baby-filled stroller while their husbands knocked at the front door of a mansion with the older kids.

“What? No way, dude. As soon as Wolfie goes down, we’re getting drunk,” Tiny said.