The sudden feeling of a hand on my shoulder made me jump in my seat.

I stopped staring at the picture of Riley pinned to the refrigerator's door and turned to my dad with a smile. Concern etched onto his features, he pushed back a lock of gray hair off his forehead, to have a better look at my face.

His eyes narrowed in an expression I had seen a lot as a child, whenever I mentioned Mom. I had been at its receiving end every day since Riley's accident. That look blended worry and regret as if he believed that he was the cause of my unhappiness.

"I'm okay, Dad." I leaned against the kitchen island, but the picture drew my attention again like a magnet.

Dad had taken the shot at a park in a nearby neighborhood. A bright red cocktail dress hugged her body like it had been designed for her, and fell loosely over her knees. The camera captured her mid-laugh, therefore making the picture slightly fuzzy.

It took a conscious effort to turn away from her smile, and even more effort to face my dad again.

"How was school today?"

School. Food. College. Work. We knew what the safe topics were, and we never strayed too far from them. The long days we had spent trying to talk about what actually mattered had scarred us both. We weren't going to try for a while.

"Great," I said, focusing on his nose to give the illusion that I was looking into his eyes.

His face appeared so worn out, and it made him look about ten years older than forty-seven; I knew it was somewhat my fault. I was getting better at lying but unfortunately, Dad was not an easy target to dupe.

"Do you have a lot of homework?"

I picked on the cautious tone of his question. He didn't know how to tell me to focus on school because he understood that it was the last thing on my mind after what happened. But, I was a senior and the calls from my teachers who sympathized but complained about my work made him anxious.

"I'll get to them." I didn't add that I hadn't been able to care about equations or comma splices in months. These things felt so secondary now.

He didn't seem convinced but he didn't push me.

"I can handle dinner," I told him. "The baseball game's about to start."

He glanced down at his watch and nodded. "Are you sure? You don't have to."

I dismissed him with a wave of my hand.

He walked out of the kitchen, and I took his place in front of the stove. For what seemed like hours, I stared at the oven timer, not thinking about anything specific. Everything reeked of Riley—the kitchen counter, the oven, the stove, the microwave. She used to spend all her Saturdays in the kitchen, and we were never allowed in until she was done.

I used to peek into the kitchen through the window, and she would be bent over the stove, nodding or yelling along to the loud music coming from a small iPad she'd place on top of the microwave.

Then, she would turn around and glare at me. "I knew you'd be here. You're ruining the surprise; get out of my kitchen."

Not that it was ever much of a surprise, anyway. She either baked buttercream cupcakes or edible chocolate chip cookie dough. But we humored her and acted surprised.

That kitchen also recorded memories of the day I found out she was going out with Avan, as though painted on the walls.

For two whole weeks, after they started dating, I had known nothing of their relationship. Then one day, I walked into the kitchen to find Riley leaning against the kitchen counter and an onyx-haired guy leaning toward her.

Unable to muster any words at that sight, I cleared my throat loud enough to get their attention.

"Oh! Hi, Avery." Riley said, her tone casual as if nothing strange had been happening. She had gently pushed Avan away, so she could make her way toward me.

"He," she said, motioning to Avan, who was nonchalantly leaning against the counter, "is my boyfriend." He had the boyish charm of someone who never put much thought into his appearance. She added, with a taunting smile, "He's a sophomore this year."

He shook his head in response as though he was used to her teasing.

We shared a few classes together as I was in tenth grade too. I had never paid much attention to him before.

It must have taken a while for me to speak again because she had brushed my shoulder to bring my attention back.

"I didn't know you were dating anyone." I had tried my best not to sound bothered. "Were you keeping it a secret?"

"Sorry about that. It didn't even occur to me that you didn't know. We hang out here all the time. You just never come downstairs." She gave me a smile that kept me from even considering holding a grudge.

Avan had watched our exchange without a word, his brown eyes nearly as dark as his hair that had been much shorter then.

"You know how I hate keeping secrets from you." Her cheerful tone had chilled a little bit and her eyes avoided mine. Before I could ask about the strange reaction, she had snapped out of it and continued, "Avan, this is my sister."

He walked over to me and politely shook my hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Nice to meet you," I said, quickly letting go of his hands because mine were sweaty.

Riley soon shooed us out of the kitchen, closing the door behind us.

Avan and I stood in the hall for a few awkward seconds, before I found the courage to excuse myself and to run up to my room.

Every Saturday since then, whenever she locked herself in the kitchen, Dad and I would seize the opportunity to get to know her boyfriend better. This involved plenty of bonding and staring—he and Dad bonded over a shared affection for terrible country music, and I did the awkward staring.

Now, as I stared at the kitchen counter, the memories it seemed to contain came rushing back. Its shiny redwood and white colors that used to make me feel at home now felt so strange.

"Avery?" my dad yelled from the living room. "You okay in there?"

His voice pulled me back from my head and I noticed that I was alone in the kitchen. Riley wasn't there, leaning over the stove, or waving me out with a spatula. No trace of her lingered.

Yelling back that I was fine, I flipped through the pages of an old recipe book from the cupboard, trying to find something to cook.

I turned on Riley's iPad, scrolled through her playlist before putting it on shuffle, and a remastered version of Queen and David Bowie's Under Pressure started playing.

Finally getting to work, I boiled potatoes and started preparing what the recipe book called a Sauté Chicken. I had no idea what that was, but it looked good in the picture.

I was an okay cook, but Riley was a genius. She disregarded recipe measures completely, preferring to go with her guts, and somehow, she was always right. I tried to follow the recipes to the letter, but still rarely managed anything special.

The final result was like plastic on my tongue, but according to Dad, it was my best so far.

I joined him on the couch to watch the game with him after dinner, but the occasional glances he gave me hinted that he would prefer it if I got a head start on my homework instead.

Entering my room, I planned to do just that, but I got distracted by the door where Riley's bed used to be. She was the worst roommate. Her corner was always messy and her sleep schedule sucked.

She didn't mind staying on the phone for hours late at night, arguing with Avan about random topics neither of them even cared about. But, ruining my sleep seemed to be their purpose in life.

As I laid out my Pre-Calc book and my notebooks, I understood Dad's concerns. I couldn't see how I would catch up with over five months of lessons I had not even tried to understand.

I couldn't afford to not graduate this year. Yet, I couldn't seem to get Riley out of my mind long enough to fight the empty feeling that came from thinking about her.

Staring at the pages wasn't going to cut it. I had to learn to get better at keeping the intrusive thoughts and memories out.

I put down the book and papers on my nightstand. Even though I knew I had to start taking school seriously again, I had a hard time feeling a sense of urgency about it.

Tomorrow would be a more convenient day to start worrying about that.

For now, I wanted to soak in the memories as they washed over me and filled me with an eerie sense of peace.