On Thursday night, Dad put the new Star Wars film on, and we all sat to watch it in a not-really-watching-it way.

The wedding was in ten days.

I looked around at my family, feeling heavy. Mom was sitting sideways on the sofa, her feet on Dad’s knees. Kat was on an armchair scrolling through her phone with the ends of her hair in her mouth. Nicos was on a laptop, probably designing more sick sneakers.

I sat on the other sofa with my notebook on my lap, thinking. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d sat together—just my family—and watched a movie. I know that sounds silly but Eleni’s family was always around, so we’d watch with them. Or, more likely, Mom would go off to talk to Aunt Soph, Dad, and Uncle C would watch it, laughing, and we’d hang with our cousins. Everything was different now. We didn’t hang with them anymore. But it was also kind of special for just the five of us to be in a room watching a movie together. I say kind of because everyone was miserable.

When Mom went out of the room to get something, I turned to Dad and said, “Why don’t you take her out tomorrow night? It would be good for her to dress up and go somewhere.”

“She never wants to. I’ve asked. She said she’d rather be home.”

“Take her anyway. I’ll paint her nails and Kat can do her makeup—she used to love getting ready with…” I stopped. “You know. Before.”

Dad said. “What a sweetheart you are. You’re such a goo—”

“Don’t say good girl,” I snapped. “I’m really not.”

“You really are,” Dad said with a smile that made my stomach lurch.

“When you go out, can you take me to Pappou’s?” I asked.

“You can stay here. Nicos and Kat can babysit.”

“But I need to talk to Pappou.”

Dad scratched his big bear hairy chest, grinned, and said, “OK. But let’s see if she says yes first.”

I don’t know how Dad managed it, but Mom agreed to go.

That evening, though, instead of getting ready, Mom sat on her bed like a deflated beach ball and said, “I don’t even feel like it.”

I stood in front of her and bit my lip. “You’re scaring me,” I said.

“Nothing to worry about. I’m just tired,” she lied in an unnaturally cheerful voice. “Come on. Help me choose what to wear.”

I nodded, opened her closet doors and pulled out some clothes. I held them in front of her and she said, “You choose.” So I decided on a red dress with sparkles around the neck, which Mom said was a little fancy, but she didn’t argue.

She showered, put the red dress on, and we looked at the nail polishes. She picked Baby Poo Cappuccino (real name: Monte Carlo), but I told her she should have Fresh Blood Vamp Lick (real name: Candy Sweet) because it was fun and happy, and she needed fun and happy. She did a good job of acting like everything was fine, but she didn’t look fine. She moved about like she had rocks inside that were weighing her body down.

Mom untwisted the cap and stuck out her lips. I knew she was thinking about Aunt Soph, because Soph always painted Mom’s nails. Always. I was glad Mom missed her. Maybe she’d actually do something about it.

“I’ll paint them,” I said. I slid out the small wand and the smell of the polish leaked into the air. I don’t know why they all smell the same when they’re different colors.

How nail polishes should smell:

• Brown: hot chocolate with marshmallows

• Green: freshly cut grass

• Red: strawberry jelly

• Orange: mango ice cream

• Blue: blueberry bubblegum

• Black: bubonic plague

I stroked the bulging brush against the rim of the bottle and watched the polish ooze off like lava. Then, with a towel under her hand, which was resting on her knee, I slapped the polish on Mom’s right thumb nail as badly as I could.

“Tsssch! What’re you doing?” Mom yelled, pulling her hand back.

“I’ll take the bad parts off later.”

“It’s all bad parts! It’s all over my finger!”

“You could pick up the phone,” I said, taking my life in my hands, “and call Aunt Soph. She’ll do your nails properly. She always has.”

To be perfectly honest (which is a stupid phrase, because who in the whole world is perfectly honest?), I knew it was a stupid reason to call Aunt Soph, but I was desperate and anything was worth a try.

“KAT!” Mom yelled.

No, no, no! That wasn’t supposed to happen!

“What?” Kat yelled from the next room.

“Come and do my nails! She’s making a mess of it.”

I tried not to scream. What was going to make Mom call Aunt Soph? What?

Kat came in, saw Mom’s thumb and said, “What, did you just splash it all over her finger? There’s a nail there. Look. Nail. Finger. Not the same thing.”

Kat took off the polish and opened a bottle of base coat, which I’d forgotten about. Then she painted Mom’s nails neatly while I sat on Mom’s bed brooding.

Dimitri’s wedding was coming, Paska was coming, my birthday was coming, summer was coming, and we’d do all of them alone and never talk to Soph’s family. I’d never see Eleni again, and I’d be a lonely whale gliding through the deep blue ocean forever.

When I returned from the ocean in my head, I realized Kat was telling Mom about something she saw on BuzzFeed and Mom was chuckling. And I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen that before. Mom always got ready with Soph while Kat and Kallie sat plotting destruction and menace somewhere else in the house.

Mom and Kat were having a moment. And that was the nicest thing I’d ever seen. Well, maybe not the nicest. But up there in the top ten. Or maybe the top fifty. Or the top five thousand. Or something.