Page 117 of Happiness for Beginners

“She forgot to pack Softie. You wailed so bad for so long about it that GiGi finally went home to get it for you. That’s when she found Mom. She’d taken pills. She was curled up with Nathan’s teddy bear.”

Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and said, “That’s why she never came back?”

I nodded.

“I think I liked it better when it was all my fault.”

“It was never all your fault.” As I said it, I realized it was true.

“I thought she just didn’t like us.”

“Puts things in a different light, doesn’t it?”

It felt comforting, somehow, to know that we’d both carried the same wrong story of our lives—that I hadn’t been the only one. That’s when it sank in: No matter how alone I’d felt all those years, Duncan had been right there with me. We’d been alone together.

We talked about it for a while longer, standing there in the entry hall, combing through the information I had. He was surprised GiGi hadn’t given me more details, but I said I wouldn’t have wanted them. “Sometimes,” I said, “the big picture is enough.”

In the end, he asked if he could come with me when I went to see our mom, and I told him I’d be hugely grateful for company.

“Sorry to throw this at you when you’ve just walked in,” I said.

He put his hands in his pockets. “It makes me feel weirdly better, somehow.”

I nodded. I got that. “And worse, too.”

“Yep,” he agreed. “Much worse.”

As the topic wound down, both our eyes started drifting over toward the cooler.

Finally, I had to ask. “Whatisin the cooler?” I asked. “GiGi told me not to be mad.”

Duncan pointed at me. “I definitely need to tell you. But I need to pee first. And get a soda from the fridge.”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

“So weird to need to pee and be thirsty at the same time,” he said, as he walked away. “You’d think those things would cancel each other out.”

“I guess so,” I said, thinking about it.

Then he stopped and turned back. “Just promise me you won’t look inside the cooler.”

“Is it something for me?”

“In a way.”

“I promise I won’t look inside.”

“Great,” Duncan said. Then he doubled back to grab his duffel and set it on top of the cooler, as if it might provide a barrier, just in case.

“Go to the bathroom!” I said.

While he was gone, I waited in the hallway. What would GiGi have been talking about? What would Duncan have brought me in that thing? Cold beer—but some awful kind? A seafood dinner from my favorite restaurant in the North End—but no longer safe to eat? A tub of my favorite ice cream, but melted? It had to be some kind of food-related welcome-back treat gone awry, right? I took a moment to appreciate him. He was much sweeter than I gave him credit for.

He came back, walking and glugging a Coke at the same time.

“Duncan, I’m very touched that you tried to bring me a—”

But he held up his hand to stop me. Then he let out a foghorn-like belch. “Sorry,” he said. “Carbonation.”

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