Maxx kissed my forehead. “You need to talk to them... alone. Give yourself this time with your parents, Aubrey. Trust me when I say if you don’t you’ll regret it.” His eyes were filled with pain, and I knew he was thinking of his own parents, whom he’d never be able to talk to again.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Do this for yourself.” He buried his nose in my hair and held me tightly for a moment before pulling away.
“Can I have your keys?” he asked, holding out his hand.
“Don’t drive over twenty-five miles an hour and make sure you brake for all stop signs,” I instructed, dropping the keys into his hands.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of your baby,” he laughed.
He kissed me one last time and gave me a slight push toward the living room. “Now go and talk to your parents.”
“We were cleaning out Jayme’s room and we’ve put some things aside that we thought you’d like to have,” my mother said after I joined them in the living room.
I felt awkward and uncomfortable sitting on the same sofa that had been there since I was a kid. The frayed arms had worn over the years.
My mom passed me a shoebox, which I took gingerly.
“It took us a long time to sort through her things. We had been putting it off, neither of us willing to do it,” my dad said, taking a sip of his coffee. After his initial hug, he now seemed almost reserved.
I took the lid off the box and looked down into the random treasures from my sister’s room that my parents had collected. I pulled out a ratty, pale pink teddy bear that sat on top. Why in the world would my parents give me Mr. Swizzle? My sister had slept with this ugly thing until she went to high school. And I suspected she hid him under her pillow after that, still holding him while she slept.
“Uh... thanks?” I held the bear in my hand, not sure what else to say.
My mother let out a tense laugh. “You don’t remember, do you?” she asked. I frowned.
“I don’t remember what?”
My parents exchanged a wistful look, and my mom shook her head. “Of course you wouldn’t. You were so young. But you picked that out for Jayme when she was a baby, just before we brought her home from the hospital. Your dad took you shopping for a welcome-home gift for her, and you insisted on Mr. Swizzle. Jayme slept with it every night after you gave it to her. When she was in her crib, we’d put it in the corner and she’d stop crying. It worked every single time,” my mother told me, and I stared down at the worn stuffed animal in my hands.
“How did I not know that I was the one to pick it out?” I asked incredulously.
“It’s yours now. I think she’d want you to have it.” Mom wiped at her eyes, and I knew she was getting weepy.
I put the bear down, and my fingers began to hesitantly sift through the remaining items in the box. I realized that my parents had carefully chosen things that they knew would be meaningful to me.
I saw the coral necklace I had helped her pick out when we went to the beach one summer during middle school. We had argued over that particular necklace, but in the end I had let Jayme have it because she was my sister and I loved her more than a stupid piece of jewelry. Jayme had worn it all summer.
I found an old spiral notebook with a ripped cover, and I realized it was our “secret club” notebook. I thumbed through the pages to find my childlike scrawl and Jayme’s crude drawings as we detailed our secret missions and important secrets we didn’t want anyone else to know.
My mother leaned over me and reached into the box. “Do you remember this?” she asked, pulling something out and putting it in my hand.
“Iknewshe took it! That sneaky brat!” I gasped through a choked laugh. Lying in my palm was the silver locket on a chain my grandmother had given me for Christmas when I was ten. Jayme had pouted all day because she had wanted one, too.
Then two days later it had mysteriously disappeared, and I never saw it again. I had accused Jayme, but she denied it and I had gotten into trouble for insisting my sister was the culprit.
My mother shook her head. “I guess we owe you an apology for not believing you.” She smiled.
“I told you guys she took it! Where was it?” I asked, holding up the locket and attaching it around my neck.
“It was in a box at the back of her closet. I’m guessing she hid it and completely forgot about it. There were old Pokémon cards and chains made from Tootsie Pop wrappers as well,” my dad said.
“I can’t believe her. If she were here, I’d shake her silly,” I muttered. Our conversation died down, and we sat in heavy silence.
I put the lid back on the box and set it down at my feet. “Thanks for this. I appreciate it,” I said sincerely, surprised that they would think to do this for me, given our relationship the last few years.
“Aubrey, I know things have been hard since Jayme died—” my mother began.
