Page 49 of Just Ten Seconds

“What are you gonna be, Joey?” someone asks him.

“The poop emoji,” he says with a serious face.

We laugh even though he’s not joking. At all.

“Mara, what about Benjamin?” Tracey asks.

I blink a couple of times before I realize she’s talking to me. I clear my throat as I sit up a little straighter. “Benjamin? Um … we never dressed up in matching costumes. The most I could get him in was an orange sweater. The thought of adults dressing up seemed ludicrous to him.”

Kevin eyes my outfit with a raised brow.

“I know, right? This was for my best friend’s birthday party. It was eighties-themed, which was fine with me. I still dress up every year to give candy out on Halloween, but Benjamin never did.” I hold up a finger as a thought comes to me. “Wait. I did get him to wear an adult onesie when he lost a bet. He didn’t think I had the balls to stand in the middle of Times Square and belt out a rendition of ‘On My Own’ from Les Misérables.”

“How loud?” Kevin asks, keenly interested.

“Sang it at the top of my lungs, and I made six dollars in tips!” I state proudly, pounding my fist in the air in a mock congratulations to myself.

Lauren giggles. “You like to sing?”

“I was in musical theater in high school.”

“Do you still act now?” she asks.

I give a half-shrug. “I gave it up a few years ago. After college, I’d moved back to the city to make it as a television actress. I’d had the worst luck with auditions, barely got a callback, and made more money as a bartender or waitress than I did in any acting gig.” I chew the inside of my cheek. This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately and yet not truly addressed it. “Benjamin didn’t understand my career choice. He didn’t even like the theater. He enjoyed going to a Broadway show every once a while, but he didn’t see the benefit in spending hours a week to be in a play that didn’t further your life potential in any way. Time could be better spent mingling with potential clients, socializing, and gathering new deals.”

There’s an itch on my head, so I scratch it and then run my hand through my hair and then down the back of my neck, holding myself there. “One day, I came home upset because I hadn’t gotten yet another role, and he said, ‘Enough is enough. Why are you wasting your time trying to be something you’re not when you can come work for me and make a ton of money?’ He was right. I was an adult. A married woman. I had a college degree. I should have been doing more with my life. I went to work for him even though I knew absolutely nothing about finance.”

My knee is bouncing uncontrollably. I lay a hand on it to calm myself down.

Earlier tonight, I freaked out because someone had recognized me, and here I am, giving away my story, leading these people right into my past. I feel like, any minute, someone is going to stand up and yell, Gotcha! The thought makes me want to puke.

Lauren frowns. “Ryan didn’t understand my passion for softball. He thought it was a fun thing to do in school but not as an adult.”

Everyone in the room nods their heads, their focus fixed on Lauren with those understanding faces on.

That’s when I know it’s true. This is a safe place for me. No one knows who I am. And no one will ask questions.

“Did you give it up?” I ask Lauren, genuinely curious.

“It was time.” She gives a contemplative frown. “Joey thinks I should give it a try again. I don’t know. I’m kinda rusty now. I’ll probably tear out my rotator cuff.”

“There’s plenty of leagues up here. Maybe you can give it a try,” I suggest. I know there’s one in our town because the team comes in for breakfast after their Sunday games.

“Sometimes, you have to move on, right?” she asks, but it’s not really a question.

I nod at her. Of all the people in the room, I think I connect the most with her.

“What kind of onesie did you make him wear?” Kevin pokes my leg, bringing my attention to where he’s sitting beside me. “Your Halloween story took a detour before, and I’ve been wondering what kind of onesie you made him wear.”

“A teal-colored unicorn!” I say with jazz hands. Everyone laughs. “It’s good to laugh.”

Cynthia agrees. “People often feel awkward, talking about Theo, to the point that they won’t even mention his name. And when they do, it’s always with an air of pity. This, here, sharing stories and being silly … it feels good.”

Tracey speaks up, “You need to talk about your lost children, partners, friends. And laughing about how ridiculous they looked in a unicorn onesie or a squirrel costume or devouring Reese’s is a great way to remember that they lived. These are your memories too. You can’t erase your past, just as much as you can’t change it. Like it. Breathe it. Laugh, cry … do it all. Don’t be afraid to feel.”

I want to snicker at her words. Sometimes, all I think I do is feel. I’m ready to be numb. To have the day where the past is behind me and time has healed all wounds.

Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen?