My best friend of 37 years suddenly asked me to take one LAST photo together during our beach trip. When I asked why she said “last,” she gave me an unsettling smile and whispered, “Because tomorrow, you’re going to find out who I really am… and you may never want to see me again.”

For a few days, I almost felt like myself.

There was only one strange moment, on the third night. We were sitting on the cottage porch with a bottle of wine, and out of nowhere, Paige asked, “Do you ever miss your dad?”

“Every day,” I said. “Why?”

She was quiet for a while. “I think about him a lot lately.”

“My dad? You hardly knew him.”

“He came to my high school graduation,” she said. “Did you know that? He stood way in the back. I don’t think he knew I saw him.”

“That’s sweet. He always liked you.”

Paige looked down at her glass. “Yeah,” she said. “He did.”

Then she got up abruptly, said she was tired, and went inside. A minute later, through the thin cottage wall, I could have sworn I heard her crying.

I told myself it was the wine. I told myself she was thinking about her own father, Ron, who’d walked out on her and never come back.