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Bradley pointed at her, indicating it was her turn to be the actor.

She was struck by the notion she hadn’t done a charade since her mother had still been around, a woman who enjoyed any and all opportunities to show off her acting talents. Devra had to begrudgingly admit the woman had always been a better actress than a parent.

More often than not, Devra felt numb when thinking about her mother. For a long time, her leaving had felt inevitable. So when she slipped out one Christmas Eve, ten-year-old Devra hadn’t even been surprised. It solidified the curse as an indisputable, unavoidable force in her life. There was the rare day, however, when she’d think of her mother and a bubble of anger would pop to the surface. Maybe the curse had compelled her to leave that day. But it was her choice to never come back.

Bradley exaggerated his pointing. He was now clearly charading to her that she needed to charade to him.

Her mind went blank. She couldn’t think of a single film title.

Scrambling for her phone, she planned to look one up but was distracted by the numerous messages she’d missed from her brother and father.

David: A new neighbour in December? Are you all right?!

Papa: Make sure you keep your doors locked, but try not to worry too much.

David: Try not to worry???? This can’t be a coincidence!

Papa: Just try to avoid them as best you can, Devi.

David: Just try to survive until January, and maybe they’ll move out!

Papa: You are going to be okay.

David: Let us know if you need anything.

Papa: Stay strong. Be safe.

David: ANYTHING.

Papa: We are here for you.

Devra was about to reply that she too had assumed the worst but that her neighbour actually seemed pretty nice and that he had made her laugh harder today than she had in a long time.

Until a cold sensation climbed up her spine.

It was Papa’s heart attack striking during a cheerful family reunion. Her devastating breakup coming after months of closeness and passion. Her mother leaving the day after she showered them with hugs and kisses. The curse, continually knocking her down after a high.

She lifted her gaze to where Bradley was nodding expectantly, his smile welcoming. This kind, handsome stranger whose presence made her tingle with forgotten desires.

Devra snapped the curtains closed, dropped into her office chair, and placed her head between her knees. Her temples pounded.

Any pleasantness she’d been experiencing had to be the curse trying to lull her into a false sense of security, trying to trick her into letting down her guard. Maybe Bradley wasn’t the axe murderer she’d originally feared. But something was coming. Something big always came. Maybe Bradley would continue to distract her from her work. Maybe the Squally Project would be put in jeopardy. Maybe she was about to lose her job. She almost wanted it to be true. A bizarre confliction, her both wanting nothing bad to happen and something awful to happen as soon as possible so she could get it over with. The slow December buildup was agony.

After several deep breaths, she managed to sit up in her chair. She texted back. Thanks, everyone. How are you feeling, Papa?

Never better. Made of steel. Don’t worry about me. Focus on yourself.

Devra didn’t want to focus on herself. Right now…she wanted to see her father.

The yearning crashed into her. She didn’t want to be texting with him, to be guessing at his health, his mood. She wanted to be with him. All of them together, the way their family used to be, the way other families took for granted. But it was December. And she couldn’t shake the impression that worse misfortunes befell them when they were all together, like individual clouds coalescing to form a storm. His fucking heart attack had scarred her. And while she wanted to go see him, to tell him in person how much she loved him, how much she appreciated all the years he’d worked so hard to keep their family intact, to reel in her mother’s flights of fancy, to keep their spirits up in the face of disaster after disaster, she was also terrified that if she did go see him, something awful would happen to him again. Something more permanent. And it would be her fault. Irrational, maybe. And yet completely plausible, given her history. She didn’t know what to do. She never knew what to do. As it happened, not doing anything was much easier than making a choice to do something.

So she stayed home, with the curtains closed, and tried to bury her anxiety under lines and lines of predictable code.

BRADLEY

Bradley kept glancing out his window, hoping he might see her curtains part. Yesterday, he’d seen Devra smile for the first time. It was like switching on Christmas lights, brightness spilling over the space that separated them and flooding into his home, causing a welcome explosion inside his chest. It wasn’t that she had a particularly beautiful smile, which she did, of course, with her full lips and sparkling hazel eyes, but Bradley also thought Gladys had a beautiful smile, false teeth and all, and he didn’t wake in the middle of the night thinking about Gladys. So it wasn’t just that her smile was beautiful; it was how it softened her sharp features and offered a glimpse of the person she was under the clouds of misery. It was the contrast, the enormity of the change, that had caused the image to linger in his mind. And knowing he was the cause of such a legendary smile was a mental reward like no other.

Except he also couldn’t stop thinking about how her face had reverted as she yanked the curtains closed so fast he almost felt the whoosh of air. She hadn’t returned to the window since. And he had been watching, hoping for her to return.