“I loved that thing,” she said from behind me, smiling.
Our tree glittered with lights and familiar ornaments behind, and my mother’s voice said, “Show us what you got, Cal.”
I presented my action figure to the camera, then turned to Gracie. “What did you get?”
She turned the box around to show the camera, dropping it in the process. I picked it up and helped her hold it up, then threw my arm around her and smiled for the camera. It only lasted a moment, and then I was back to my toys.
While my eyes stayed glued to the screen, I shuffled backward, sitting on the floor with my back leaning against the couch next to Erica’s legs. We both watched, enthralled.
The camera panned to my dad, who smiled, his eyes clearly on my mom. Then the video went wobbly, and she turned the camera on herself. She had bangs—the sight of them made me blink. She’d gotten rid of those. My mom’s smile reminded me of Erica’s—another thing I’d forgotten about her. I hadn’t seen the bangs or the smile in the years that followed. “Christmas ’94! Happy holidays!”
The image cut. I was at the kitchen table—the same one that was in the dining room just up those three steps and to the left—with my head bent over some scrap papers. Gracie was next to me, her little face scrunched. “I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can,” I said. “What’s that?”
“A ‘G,’” she grumped.
“See? You know your letters.”
“But I can never remember,” Gracie complained, her voice a high whine with a slight lisp. “Evewyone else knew how to write their name, and Ican’t!”
“It’s easy,” I said. “G-R-a-c-e,” I sang, tilting my head back and forth with each letter. Gracie joined in, then took up a red crayon and started writing. When she lifted the sheet, her letters were wobbly and angled, but they were all there. She beamed with the kind of happiness only a proud child can produce.
“Good boy, Cal,” my mom said from behind the camera again. Little me looked up, and the smile I gave her was foreign. I didn’t remember ever looking at my mom like that.
Erica shifted on the couch and put her hand on my shoulder. I realized I wasn’t breathing, and I sucked in a hard breath. “Why are you showing me this?” I croaked, fumbling with the remote to pause the video.
“Because I wanted you to see the childhood that I remember,” she said quietly. Her hand was still on my shoulder, and she squeezed it gently. “You were the best big brother either of us could have asked for. You still are.”
“Graciedied, Erica,” I snapped. “She died because ofme.”
“Look at me.”
I didn’t, staring at a spot above the TV. My smile, frozen on the screen. A boy I didn’t remember. Was that really me?
“Look at me, Cal.”
Jaw clenched, I glared at my sister. “What? You’re going to tell me it wasn’t my fault? Itwas, Erica. Mom and Dad got divorced less than a year later. That was my fault too. Then they died, and neither of them forgave me. And you know what? I didn’t deserve their forgiveness, and I don’t deserve yours. Our family fell apart because of me.That’sthe truth.”
“Our family fell apart because of a tragic accident. Not because of you. But you know what you did?”
“What?” I asked, eyes prickling, chest hot.
“You stood beside me every day of my life. You sat with me when I applied for college. You came to every softball game. You paid for my schooling and took me in when my coward of an ex left me when I got cancer. You were the rock that allowed me and Lila tolive, Cal. I just wish you’d let yourself live too.”
“For what?” I snapped.
“For that little baby who deserves better than we got,” Ericahissed. I turned to look at her, surprised at her tone. At her fury. She pointed a finger at me. “You have the chance to right all those wrongs, Cal. All those times our parents turned their backs on us. All the times they blamed you when things got too hard. You have the chance to fix that by being the best father you can be. That little boy is coming whether you’re ready or not.Soon, Cal.”
Not, I wanted to say. Not ready in the slightest. But no words came out.
“I’m going to say this until the day I die. Cal, you aregood. Down to your core. You were a good brother, and you’re a good man. You’ve saved me so many times I lost count. I just wish you’d save yourself.”
Denial was on the tip of my tongue. I stared into my sister’s eyes, stunned by the anger swirling there. The frustration. The softening.
“You’re going to be a father,” she continued in a lower tone. “Don’t you dare waste that opportunity. Don’t you dare turn your back on that helpless, precious child.”
“I’m not going to?—”
