God, you were around all the time.

Obviously, that was a given. You were Callie’s nanny—much to Jeff’s dismay, constantly claiming that Shauna was “wasting” his “hard-earned money.”

Whatever. She’d like to see him stay home with a ten month old all day. She tried not to resent her daughter, but it was hard. Shauna wasn’t sure when the lines blurred and Jackie became Callie and Callie became Jackie, but her daughter felt like her late best friend come back to haunt her.

Another facet of the biggest ghost in her life that wouldn’t give her peace. Her guilt was unending, carnal, and devouring her very being.

Then enter: You.

Twenty one. A Junior in college. Young and beautiful, and spending ninety percent of your lovely time here. In Shauna’s tiny house. With her ten month old baby. Always helpful. Always observant.

You’d become an excellent confidant over the months as you helped the young mother adjust to her new fate, stay-at-home mom. No College. No Brown. No Literature degree, and no studying abroad.

Shauna’s dreams and hopes left abandoned in her childhood bedroom, as she adjusted to life post-crash; traumatised, guilty. and bitter.

Nursing Callie. Lack of sleep. Changing dirty diapers. Cooking and cleaning and housekeeping. All medial yet exhausting tasks made easier by your kind and quiet presence in her life as you helped her get through repetitive days.

The closer you got, the more dependent Shauna became; feeling a highschool-like crush fizz up in her chest like soap in a bubble-bath. She started inviting you over more under the guise of being extra stressed—an excuse to monopolise more of your time, see you more. Spend a few extra minutes forgetting about her husband.

Shauna watches from the kitchen, fixing some sort of meatloaf dinner and setting the table, as you play with little Callie on the living room floor. She’d invited you for dinner, seeing as Jeff would be home late again. Distracted by the peculiar sight of you so carefree with her daughter, she nearly drops a plate.