Another photo shows the same man sticking his fingers up at the camera with a smile on his face. I open one of the letters and chuckle when I realize they aren’t so much letters as notes that they must have passed back and forth to each other.
Hey, Buttercup, have I told you how much I love your ass today? No? Well, damn. Come find me after school, and I’ll show you just how much I love it. AJ
Who was AJ, I ponder as I pick up another one written in the same messy scrawl.
Thanks, Buttercup. My father’s an asshole, but he’ll get over it. Sneaking out with you is always worth the punishment. AJ
I sift through the photos. They are variations of the same theme: this man, my mom, or both of them together. All except the last one, which falls out of a letter I pick up.
Buttercup, I’m sorry. I love you, a part of me always will, but this is not the life I wanted for us. I can barely look after myself, let alone a baby. Maybe one day our paths will cross again, and I will be a better man. Lord knows you deserve better than me, you always did. AJ
The photo is an ultrasound photo. For a second, I question my parentage until I turn it over and see the wordsBaby Boy Coming Soonin my mom’s familiar writing.
Well then, I guess AJ must have been the father—he just wasn’t mine. I don’t remember her ever mentioning an AJ, so I guess he never did figure out how to be a better man and forever became the one who got away. But what happened to the baby?
I prop the letter on the table and turn my focus back on the box. I pull out an envelope with the wordsAngel Babyon the front and swallow. I guess I know what happened after all. I trace my fingers over the writing, but I don’t open the envelope. It feels too private, which sounds stupid when she’s dead and won’t care. But I do. I lay it down gently and pick up another envelope, this one labeledmy rainbow baby.
I stare in shock inside the envelope and pull out a drawing that I made when I was little, followed by a lock of my dark hair. I place the envelope down with the other one and rummage through the box, finding an odd-shaped clay object that I had painted a lurid yellow with my initials on the base. I also find a tiny pair of baby booties and a onesie nestled in the bottom in pale pink. I pull out photos of me dressed as an angel in a nativity play, and at a picnic with my friends—all things I would swear she never came to.
A bundle of pictures held together with an elastic band grabs my attention. I pick it up and fight to swallow down the vomit rushing up the back of my throat.
There’s a picture of Alec standing next to his shiny new truck that his parents gave him when he passed his driver’s test. Next to him, with her arms wrapped tightly around him, is me. The similarity between this photo and the one of my mother is eerie. The only difference is the angle from which it was shot. It’s almost like the photographer didn’t want us to know the picture was being taken. I stare at my expression, wishing I couldscream at my younger self to run before it was too late. But all my face shows is happiness. And I was. I was so happy back then.
The next photo was taken a few months later. Alec is laughing at something his father is saying, but I’m standing next to him, staring off into space. I remember that day. That was the first time Alec hurt me. We had been arguing over something stupid, and he shoved me into the door before storming off. He apologized straight away, and I believed him. No, I wanted to believe him so fucking bad. I flip through photo after photo, each depicting the span of my relationship with the boy who would be my downfall. The last picture was taken two weeks before the accident. I had been feeling off for a few weeks and wanted to stay at home in bed, but Alec insisted we go camping with his friends. We argued. He won, the evidence clear in the photo of my split lip and the ring of bruises around my arms that match the ones I’m sporting today. After spending three days being humiliated and embarrassed in front of his friends, I was done. I couldn’t handle his coercive, toxic brand of love anymore. It was slowly killing me.
A banging at my door drags my attention from the picture. I toss it on the table, move the box from my lap, and walk over to the window.
Spying Katy, I open the door and grab the bags she immediately shoves into my hands.
“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
I shake my head. “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just got the works. Everyone loves a cheeseburger, am I right? Well, unless you’re a vegetarian. Shit, you’re not, are you?”
I smile at her babbling and shake my head. I adore burgers.
I freeze when Banner steps in behind Katy, his eyes moving over me in a predatory way as Katy continues to talk.
“Phew, it dawned on me earlier that all I remember you eating from before was salads. You were always on some kind ofdiet.” Banner tilts his head curiously, knowing I’ve never been anything but slim. But slim was never good enough for Alec. He needed me to be skinny.
Katy takes the bags back from me and heads to the kitchen. I look at Banner as if to sayWhat are you doing here?
He grins. “I told you I’d give you space. I didn’t say how much.”
I roll my eyes and follow Katy into the kitchen, where she shoves a now-full plate into my hand.
She does the same with Banner before sitting at the table with her own plate of food. She takes a huge bite of her burger as I watch on with amusement.
“So good.”
Banner pulls out the other chair for me to sit in, leaving him to stand. He doesn’t seem fazed by it all. He picks up his burger and starts eating too.
They’re both acting as if this is all perfectly normal, which it absolutely is not. I sit there, feeling like I’m having an out-of-body experience, when Katy looks at her watch and starts cursing.
“Shit.” She stands. “I didn’t realize the time. I’m supposed to be meeting Casey to help her with…a thing. I can’t cancel it now. It would be rude. Banner will stay and help. You do whatever needs doing, won’t you, Banner?” She doesn’t give him a chance to answer before she kisses my cheek, then his, and runs out the door, taking her burger with her.
Well, fuck. Hurricane Katy strikes again.
“She’s not exactly subtle, is she?” Banner grins.
