We don’t know whose idea it was. It kind of came up in a conversation as we were planning — “Oh!” one of us said, “Let’s invite Naomi!”

IN the basement of our minds: throw pillows, watermelon ices, a box of Purim costumes.

Screams.

LAYKIE

I’m folding laundry when my mother calls. I’m always folding laundry, so this isn’t unusual — what’s strange is the timing.

“Hi Mommy, is everything okay?”

“Hi honey, sure, everything’s fine. Why?”

“You never call me at two.”

“Well, I had some errands to run, and then a levayah. So I’m running late with lunch.”

I haul another laundry basket onto the table. Someone’s pants are covered in tiny bits of tissue.

“Whose levayah was it?”

“Remember Mrs. Davies? They lived across the street for a couple of years when you were in high school?”

I’m picking tiny pieces of confetti off pants. Dropping them onto the floor.

I remember Susan Davies.

“Baruch Dayan HaEmes, I’m so sorry to hear! You kept up with her?” Pick pick pick.

“Oh, so you do remember her. I didn’t see her often, but when I did we always had a chat. Her husband passed away a few years back.” A small sigh. “Such a hard life she had, Susan.”

My cold fingers, still picking at tissue fibers. I need a lint roller, maybe.

“So… um. Her husband also died? I didn’t know.” I try to swallow against a dry throat, see if I can pull off a casual sound. “Where’s Naomi these days?”

“Naomi.” Another sigh. “She’s been in a private facility for years now. She needed… more care than her parents could give her.”

I’m standing in front of a closet, no idea what I need from here. Sewing kit, was it?

“In a private facility, wow. Did she, um. Did she come often to visit her parents? Did you ever see her since, since…” since that night, since then “…recently?”

I can hear some clattering of pots, tap water running.

“I was talking to Miriam Shein about that just now, after the levayah. I think since her father passed away, Naomi didn’t come home. Susan went to visit her there, made sure she had everything she needed. You know Naomi was never very communicative and I think it just got worse over the years. Miriam was wondering who’s going to be paying for that private frum home, now that Susan is gone. It’s really very expensive.”

I’m sitting on a dining room chair holding a pair of pants with white fuzz. Brushing it hard with my left hand, up and down, making things worse. Change the subject, Laykie.

“I… had no idea. Wow. Are there no other relatives?”

“I think there’s a brother, from somewhere in the Midwest? Susan never mentioned anything about family. It was hard enough for them to fit in without talking too much about it, you know. Older baalei teshuvah, just the one daughter with Down syndrome. So sad.”

So sad and then you made it a thousand times worse, Laykie.

I abandon the pants in favor of hand towels. Neat squares. Does Mommy remember anything? Will I ever have the nerve to ask?

I do manage to change the subject then. Ask her what pasta or salad she’s making, who’s coming for Shabbos.

All little nothings like those I’ve used over the years, piling random bits of life haphazardly over the memories in the basement until they were buried and I could lock the door.

We were three. Laykie, Tali, Adina.

Finishing high school, end of camp. The Three Musketeers, BFFs forever forever forever.

BFFs about to be separated for the first time since pre-1A. Laykie and Tali to BJJ and BYA; Adina staying local.

We were excited, we were terrified. We pinky-promised how close we’d keep, how we’d never fade out of each other’s lives, how we’d always call. Keep in touch every single day… all the while knowing how it wouldn’t happen.

This was the last sleepover before the Big Change.

Laykie’s house made the most sense, it had a renovated basement that would be perfect for schmoozing and through-the-night-noise. Tali was in charge of souvenirs and games, Adina the food.

We don’t know whose idea it was. It kind of came up in a conversation as we were planning — “Oh!” one of us said, “Let’s invite Naomi!”

We were full of ourselves. On a high, goodwill, chesed, what a great way to end one chapter and start another.

How could we have known that it would all end so badly?