Pulling it free, I gasped. “Pops.” They had been observers, documenting my accomplishments. Unlike the others, this was an original photo of Pops taking a selfie in front of our shop. He had come to Boston, only a few feet from the front door. I wanted to ask him why he didn’t come inside. With only a few strides, the end of our story could have been different.
I slid the photo into my breast pocket, wanting this one for myself.
“There’s extra water in the kettle,” Mum called from the living room.
I got up and poured myself a cup of hot water, grabbing two tea bags and dipping them inside. I could have spent the night poring over the pages, getting lost in memories and what-ifs. Instead, I headed to the living room to share a spot on the couch with Mum. As much as I wanted, I couldn’t change the past.
The present, though, here I could start mending old wounds.
NOT MUCH OF A BULLY NOW
The radio called them oldies, but most of them were chart toppers while I was in high school. Unwilling to admit I had reached ‘a certain age.’ I danced about the kitchen. There was more egg on the counter and my apron than on the bread as I dropped another slice into the pan. If Mum and Gladys returned from the store, they’d see an uncoordinated disaster.
I couldn’t be happier.
After Mum went to bed, I returned to the kitchen table and the scrapbook. One painful page at a time, I relived my past. Underneath the bubble letter cutouts, he scribbled notes about every article. The guilt shifted from wishing he had seen the man I had become to wanting to know the manhebecame.
Before she headed to her room, she shared an amusing tidbit about Pops. “He wrote poetry. Notgoodpoetry, but it made him smile. We’d be lying in bed and ask if I wanted to hear his latest. I always said yes. No matter how dreadful, the smile on his face reminded me of why I loved him.”
It hurt that I didn’t know my favorite person had such depth. I could have let the guilt consume me. She didn’t wait for a reply as she left. I realized I still had a chance of knowing him. Through him, I could reconnect with Mum. Perhaps this hadbeen his plan all along? He might not be with us, but he wasn’t done with me… us… not yet.
“Shit.” I gave the pan a shake, flipping the French toast, revealing a darkened crust. The men in this family shouldn’t be allowed to cook. Then again, would it be breakfast in the Sanford house without a little smoke and the smell of burnt toast?
My phone vibrated on the counter.
Lacie: Tomorrow’s the night.
Nick’s tornado of a companion had sent the text directly instead of using our group chat. She might be well-meaning, but I knew a scheme when I saw one.
Charlie: For what?
Lacie: The curse.
Lacie: We break the curse.
Charlie: I’m not supplying a sacrificial lamb.
Lacie: No more blood magic for me. It got out of control last time.
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t ready to deep dive into Firefly like Lacie. At this point, she knew more about the town than I did. My opinion might have shifted. Slightly. The minor victories required me to sacrifice the personal space I demanded. So far, it hadn’t bitten me in the ass.
Charlie: What do you need?
Lacie: What’s your sign?
Charlie: Virgo? Why?
Lacie: Perfect. We need an Earth element.
Lacie: Tomorrow in the green. Bring firewood.
Charlie: Huh?
Lacie: Don’t worry. I’ll get everything else.
Lacie: Look cute.
Charlie: Is that necessary?
