Page 2 of Don’t Open Your Eyes

“I got it. You should get going, or you’re going to be late,” Annabelle said.

“Right. Have a good day, everyone.”

A few minutes after he left, Annabelle cleared the table while the girls gathered their things. They filed out and got into Annabelle’s Volvo XC90. Once they were on the road, she gave Scarlett a quick look.

“Make sure you’re not on your phone all night. I don’t want you to ignore your sister.”

“I won’t. We’ll watch a movie or something.”

“And no one coming over,” Annabelle said.

“Okay, Mom. Got it. Geez.”

“I’ll tell you if she does anything wrong,” Olivia piped up from the back seat.

“I’m not going to do anything wrong. Ugh!”

“And you call me right away if there’s a problem,” Annabelle said.

“There won’t be a problem! What did you get Dad for your anniversary?”

“Remember the photo of the four of us on the beach last summer at the Cape?”

“Yeah, you made us all dress alike like a bunch of dweebs,” Scarlett said.

Annabelle laughed. “It’s a great photo of everyone! I had it done in oil paints for Dad.”

Scarlett didn’t seem impressed. “Hmm. That sounds nice, I guess. Um, so, I was wondering—”

“What?”

“Did you have any other serious boyfriends before Dad?”

Annabelle’s hand tightened on the wheel as an image formed in her mind. For the second time that day, the old pain returned. All these years later, she still felt like a part of her was missing. “Why do you ask?” Annabelle made her voice light, buying time.

“Just wondering, you know, if there was anyone really special before Dad. Like, did you know right away that Dad was the one?”

“Do you mean, was it love at first sight?”

“I guess.”

Annabelle was careful to measure her response. “I don’t believe in love at first sight. Your dad and I were friends first, and I fell in love with him gradually. But it’s better, I think, because he’s not only my husband, he’s my best friend.” What she didn’t tell her daughter was that once upon a time, she had very much believed in love at first sight. Back when she was young and naive and hadn’t had her heart broken. She’d experienced that all-consuming, head-over-heels, mad love that poets and philosophers wrote about, and it had nearly destroyed her. Maybe her knees didn’t buckle when James kissed her, but that kind of feeling didn’t last anyway. What they had was better, more real. The kind of love that would sustain her, not obliterate her.

Scarlett made a face. “Doesn’t sound very romantic. Who were you dating before him?”

Annabelle decided to sidestep the question. “Listen, the romantic love you see in the movies isn’t real. Real love is—” She glanced over to see if Scarlett was listening and saw that she had put her AirPods in and tuned her out. She sighed. The teenage years were certainly living up to the stereotype. Annabelle was close to both girls, making sure to do special things one-on-one with each of them. Olivia and Annabelle went to the bookstore together every week, ordered hot chocolates, and chose a new book to read together. Scarlett and Annabelle’s thing was scary movies. They’d make a large bowl of popcorn, turn the lights way down, and snuggle under a blanket. But lately, Scarlett wasn’t even interested in doing that. Annabelle supposed it was normal—this pulling away—but it didn’t make it any easier. Thank goodness Olivia was still her same sweet self.

Annabelle pulled into the parking lot of their school.

“Bye, Mommy,” Olivia said as she jumped out of the car. Scarlett got out without a word.

“Have a good day,” she called after them, but they ran ahead without looking back.

“You too, Mom,” she said to herself, shaking her head.

—

James held up his glass of wine. “Here’s to us, and to many more years together.”