I hold it in my lap, tracing the wood with my eyes and palm.
“When you first told me about the baby, I started thinking a lot more about my mom. Though I didn’t have much in terms of memories, my dad had all these… remnants of her. He kept everything. So every time I needed a piece of my mom, I knew I could go to him, and he’d show me something new.” Bo turns, placing his knee on the couch to face me. “He had this box under his bed filled with photos, jewellery. Things as insignificant as buttons that had fallen off her coat or pennies she’d picked up off the street. All of Mom’s notebooks filled with music she’d written…journals, notes, letters…” Bo says, looking toward the dining room over my shoulder.
I reach out my right hand, putting it on his knee and squeezing as best I can.
Bo smiles wistfully, taking a deep inhale, his eyes turning back toward me. “And through those things, through those little pieces of her, I learned that her story wasn’t just how it ended. I learned about her life. I saw all those scraps of her Dad kept and realised how deeply they had loved each other.” He swallows, licking his lips. “I wanted our baby to have that too. Even ifweweren’t in love. Even if the baby was unexpected… I wanted them to have something they could hold on to. Tangible memories. Something that meant ifoneof us…” he says, his chin folding down and his voice wobbling. “IfIgot sick again and…”
I put my hand on his cheek, brushing gently along the line of his beard with my thumb. “You’re not going anywhere,” I say adamantly, nodding my head so he does the same.
He smiles, tilting his lips toward my hand. “I know. I’m not allowed.”
“Damn right,” I whisper, my voice wavering.
“Anyway, I wanted them to have this,” Bo says, pointing to the fastener of the box. “But now, I think I want you to see it too. Because… I always wondered if my momknewDad’d kept these things. That he’d been so madly in love with her, that she was memorialized before she was even gone.”
I unhook the latch and open the box, revealing the treasure trove of items inside.
“It’s mostly just junk…” Bo says, rubbing the back of his neck as I pull out a receipt and read it over.
“From… from the café on Cosgrove?” I ask.
“The day you told me about them.”
I reach in, pulling out a mason jar of stones and turquoise sea glass.
“From our walks to the beach,” Bo says.
I laugh, tears springing free as I pull out the photo of us from that first ultrasound—my dazed, confused smile in hilarious contrast next to Bo’s bright enthusiasm in the lobby of the medical building. Underneath it is a photo of me, one that I didn’t know he’d taken. I’m gardening in the backyard, dirt across my face and tummy sticking out from under my T-shirt. It had to have been less than a week ago.
“And this?” I say, laughing as I hold up a small, rectangular piece of plastic.
“I may have taken someCatanpieces… from that first game night,” Bo says, shrugging one shoulder. “Don’t tell Sarah.”
I pull out thefather-to-bebook Sarah gave him, now annotated with notes in the margins and flagged pages with bright pink tabs. I flick through it, realising that he’s left notes to the baby amongst the pages. Telling them how excited he is for every stage. How much he can’t wait to meet them.Your mom is doing such a good job at growing you,I read.She’s going to be an incredible mom.
Every little item I pull out next fills my heart more and more. The pack of twenty questions, with short forms of our answers written on the back of each card. His copies of the ultrasound photos, scrap pieces of paper, more candid photos of me—my bump going from unnoticeable to overflowing.
“This is a beautiful gift, Bo,” I say, wiping my tears. I move the box to the couch beside me and wrap my arms around him. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, crying. “I only made you socks.”
“I love socks.”
“I love you,” I say.
“There’s one more thing that I took out.”
“Hmm?” I ask, leaning back as I wipe my tears away.
“Remember on the first day, I told you I hid something so that you wouldn’t find it while snooping?” He reaches into the side of the couch. “I stashed it here earlier, for the record. This isn’t where I hid it.”
“So mysterious…” I say, my smile faltering into confusion as he pulls out…oh.
“This I can’t explain,” he says, holding out the red bandanna I lost on Halloween. “This I kept before I knewanythingabout the baby. Before I knew how much I was going to love you. Because, clearly, some part of me already did.”
I cover my mouth, looking down at his hand, clasped tightly around the bandanna as my brain catches up with my soaring heart.
“I think I knew that I needed a piece ofyouto hold on to. I was walking out of that room and I saw this on the chair next to the door and… I don’t know. I just needed to take a part of that night with me.”
“But… but you left.”
