I asked Teresa to keep this letter for you in case I’m ever not around to tell you these words.
For the last thirteen years, I saw a boy I’ve known since before he was born grow up before he should have to. He lost so much, but there is one thing he refused to lose, and that’s his love for you, whether he’s aware of it or not.
Ask him what were the first words he said to me every single time I came back home.
My dear Joel, over the last few years, I’ve seen you slowly lose the spark you had when you were with your best friend. Don’t let it fade completely. Go home again.
Remember, you were conceived in New York, but you were made in Portugal.
With love,
Mom
“Joel, sweetheart.”
I found myself wrapped in David’s arms while tears clouded my vision.
“They knew, David. My mom and your mom, they knew.”
“I think she was referring to us as friends, but she was right. You are home again. Now, here with me, you are home.”
It was true. I came all this way to let my parents go and ended up finding myself. Every place we visited, every conversation we had with people I’d never met before and would never see again made me feel more and more at home.
I picked up the chains and put the one with my name on David’s neck and the one with his name on mine. We were so close to each other that the magnetic puzzle pieces stuck together.
“What did you say to my mom?”
“What?”
I’d stopped crying, but he was still stroking my hair like I was the most delicate thing he’d ever touched.
“In the letter, my mom told me to ask you what you used to say to her.”
“Tell me about Joel.”
