The Most Fun We Ever Had

by Claire Lombardo

She lived a little bit like how she imagined murderers lived: sparsely, and with shame.

They would repeat it for years to come in times of strife: the most fun I’ve ever had.

“I think so much of making a relationship work has to do with choosing to be kind even when you may not feel like it. It sounds like the most obvious thing in the world but it’s much easier said than done, don’t you think?”

At some point your children crossed a threshold from being children to being real people and it never seemed to announce itself dramatically but rather in quiet moments like this one.

Her mom thought she was pretty, would sometimes get teary-eyed and contemplative and say, “You’re so beautiful it hurts me, Goosey.” But moms had to say those things, Grace supposed. And they probably especially had to say them if their children were homely, to fatten them up with compliments before they unleashed them into a dark world of people who were not their mothers.

His best friend, the most wonderful surprise life had ever lobbed his way.

And it was striking, how much less alone that could make you feel, because of course to be peopled at all was a high-order gift, but to find people beyond your people was nothing short of miraculous, finding a person away from home who felt like home and shifted, subsequently, the very notion of home, widening its borders.

“Refueling,” David said, and she nodded against him. “Christ, those girls drink a lot of wine. I’ll have to apologize to the recycling guy on Tuesday.”