Look, Lori was my friend, my best friend, and I don’t want to sound like I’m trashing her, but I reckon it’s important people know the truth about her and Bobby. Don’t get me wrong, Lori was special, did a lot for me, but she could be… she could be a bit flaky sometimes.

Lori and I met in high school. My folks moved to Flemington, New Jersey from Queens when I was fifteen, and me and Lori hit it off straight away. On the surface, Lori was your typical good girl. Good grades, polite, never got into trouble. But she had this whole secret life her folks never knew about. Smoked pot, drank, messed around with boys; usual kids’ stuff. Reuben was teaching American history at the school at the time, and Lori was careful to protect his rep. Reuben was cool. None of the kids at school ripped into him. He was just Mr Small, not wildly popular, but he had a way of telling a story. Quiet. A dignity about him, I guess. He was smart, too. But if he knew Lori was out drinking and screwing around behind his back, he never let on.

As for Lillian… I know she never liked me, blamed what happened to Lori at college on me, but she was okay. But then compared to my folks, pretty much anyone is. Lillian never worked, seemed happy being a homemaker–kept busy sewing and cooking or whatever–and Reuben made just enough for them to live on. Apart from their politics–they were way more liberal than you’d think, looking at them–it was kind of like they were still living in the 1950s.

After graduation, Lori and I both decided to apply to NYU–Lillian wasn’t happy about that, although NYC is only an hour or so from Flemington. Didn’t take long for Lori to get into the party scene, start doing heavy drugs, coke mainly. We had this whole system for when she knew her folks were coming to visit; we’d clear up the room we shared, she’d cover up her tattoos, make sure there was no evidence on show, but she got to a point where she couldn’t hide it any more. Lillian flipped out, insisted that Lori come home with her and Reuben, so Lori ended up dropping out. After she got clean, she came back to the city and tried a million different careers: yoga instructor, personal stylist, manicurist, bartender. That’s where I met my first husband, at one of the bars she worked in. It didn’t last. Neither the job nor the husband.

Then, out of nowhere Lori applied for this fashion design course–convinced Reuben and Lillian to pay for it, though I don’t know where they found the cash. I thought it was just another flaky move, but turned out she was good at it–hats especially, which became her thing. She started getting commissions, moved to Brooklyn where she could afford to set up her own studio. She designed a hat for my second wedding, refused to charge me for it, even though she was just starting out.

It was just after she did that Galliano show that she found out she was pregnant. ‘I’m keeping this one,’ she said. ‘The big four-oh is coming up and I might not get another chance.’ Wouldn’t say who the father was, so I suspected she’d done it on purpose. I’m not saying she slept around, but she liked to have a good time. Didn’t see the point of being in a relationship.

She concocted this whole crazy story about being artificially inseminated so that Lillian wouldn’t freak out. I couldn’t believe she was going to go through with it–it didn’t seem right. But she said it was easier that way. After that preacher was going on about Bobby not being born of man–that he was unnatural and all that stuff–I could have said something, told the truth, but I thought it would all die down. Who could take that seriously?

When she was pregnant, Lori went through this whole religious stage, talked about sending Bobby to Cheder classes when he was old enough, shul, the whole shebang. Jewish mother syndrome, she said. It didn’t last. I’d thought she’d freak when Lillian and Reuben decided to move to Brooklyn, but in actual fact she was pleased. ‘It might not be a bad idea, Mona.’ And yeah, before Reuben got sick, having Lillian on tap did make it easier. Specially when Bobby was a baby. It all backfired when Reuben got really bad and Lori had to be the supportive one. She was good at it, though. In a way, it made her grow up. I admired her for stepping up to the plate like that. Still… sometimes I wonder if she wanted Lillian and Reuben to move down to Florida so that they’d be out of her hair, although that makes me sound like a prize bitch, doesn’t it? I wouldn’t have blamed her. She had a lot to deal with.

And Bobby… I don’t like to say it, but I swear to God he was a different kid after the crash. I know, I know, it could’ve just been PTSD or shock or whatever. But before it happened… when he was small… look, there’s no other way to say it. He was the toddler from hell, threw a tantrum about a million times a day. I called him Damien after that kid in the movie, which made Lori mad. Lillian didn’t see the half of it–Bobby behaved like a little angel whenever he was with her, I guess because she let him have his way all the time. And Reuben started getting sick when Bobby was two or so, so she wasn’t around him all that much. Lori also spoiled him rotten, gave him whatever he wanted, though I told her the only person she was hurting was him. I’m not saying she was a bad mother. She wasn’t. She loved him, and that’s all they need, right? Although the truth of it was, I couldn’t tell if he was spoiled or just what my mother would call a bad seed.

Lori hoped he’d settle down when he started at school. One of those arty Magnet schools had just opened up in the neighbourhood and she decided to enrol him there. It didn’t help. Within days of him starting there she was called in to talk about his ‘difficulties integrating’, or whatever bullshit way they described it.

This one time, when Bobby was four or so, Lori had this big client she had to see. She was stuck for a babysitter and as Lillian was taking Reuben to be assessed by a new doctor, Lori asked me to babysit. I was living in an apartment in Carroll Gardens at the time, and my then-fiancé had bought me a kitten, cute little thing, we named her Sausage. Anyway, I left Bobby in front of the television while I had a shower, and as I was drying my hair I heard this high-pitched screaming sound coming from the kitchen. I swear, I never knew animals could scream like that. Bobby was holding Sausage by her tail and swinging her from side to side. He had this look on his face that said, ‘Jeez, this is fun.’ I’m not ashamed to say that I whacked him; he fell and knocked his forehead against the kitchen counter. Bled like anything. I had to rush him to the emergency room to get stitches. But he didn’t cry. Didn’t even flinch. Lori and I fell out over that for a while, but it didn’t last long, we had too much history. Last time she asked me to babysit though.

Then after the crash… it was like he was a whole new person.