I hang up with Mark as I turn onto Melanie’s street, determined to go upstairs and finish this song. Or as much of it as I can before she gets home.
When I get to the apartment, Melanie isn’t home yet. That’s all right. I kick my shoes off at the door, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, stopping to look at the photo of Melanie and Cara held up by a magnet, their faces lit with joy. Cara’s eyes are crinkling, like she’s laughing at something. I grab my guitar and my notebook and spread everything out on the coffee table. Then I start rummaging through the cabinets we have been keeping our old notebooks in, but there are no photos in there.
I look in Melanie’s hall closet, wondering if I missed any photo albums. I’m coming up empty. Finally, I walk into her room. I know she has some photos in here. There are a couple stuck in the mirror on her dresser. But I don’t want to take them off—that feels wrong. I gaze at them for a moment. There’s one of junior prom, the two girls dressed up, wearing their corsages and smiling big. Melanie lookedso beautifulthat night. A chill runs through me as I remember what happened after prom. That night changed me forever.
I open her small closet and there are a bunch of boxes on the shelves, but it feels intrusive to get them down and go through them. I just need a couple of loose photos to spread out on the table for inspiration while I write. I want to remember specific things about Cara—her big blue eyes, the dimple in her left cheek, the way her eyes crinkled in the corners when she laughed.
Then I remember, there was a packet of 4x6 photos in Mel’s nightstand drawer. I remember because it looked old and the One Hour Photo logo was printed on it. I saw it when I was looking for her vibrator. I don’t know what they are, but it’s worth a shot. I move toward it, opening the drawer and rooting through some miscellaneous birthday cards, lists, and other things in search of the vintage Kodak sleeve that reads, “Share Moments. Share Life.”
But then, my eyes catch on something else. An envelope, worn and unopened. A memory from a couple of weeks ago flashes through my mind—Melanie hiding something behind her back that she claimed to be a bill. I didn’t buy it, but I certainly didn’t think anything of it either. I noticed it last week but all I wanted to do was get her off, so I pushed it out of my mind. But now, there’s a nagging feeling in the back of my brain, urging me to turn the envelope over. I can’t ignore it.
I reach for it, flipping it over to see who the sender might be, but there’s only one thing scrawled on the front of it. In Melanie’s familiar curvy handwriting:
Josh.
I study it for a moment. It’s from back then. It has to be. If it were new, there’s no way the edges would be tearing and worn. There wouldn’t be spotted fingerprints on it. It’s a letter for me that clearly Melanie never gave me. Against all my better judgment, I tear it open and begin to read.
Then everything goes black.
Then
Josh,
I don’t know how I’ll ever have the courage to give you this letter but if I don’t tell you now, I never will. I tried to talk to you at the funeral but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Everyone looked so sad and I didn’t want to make things worse.
Josh, I’m pregnant. Or, I was. Remember a month ago how I started bailing on you? Saying I felt sick? Well, I realized that I hadn’t gotten my period in a long time. I couldn’t remember the last time. I used to always write it in a notebook but I haven’t since before prom. So I had no idea how late I really was. I went to the dollar store up the parkway so no one would see me and bought ten tests. They all came back positive. I’ve been sick over it for weeks—not telling you. Then the nausea started and I was completely terrified that this would ruin everything. Music, Nashville, us. I don’t know how it happened. I thought you always pulled out. That you were careful. It doesn’t matter now anyway.
I was going to tell you about it the night of the accident, after the game. I thought we could decide what to do together. But when I got to the hospital, I was bleeding. I started screaming hysterically, my parents didn’t understand, the doctors didn’t. They thought it was just my period, maybe brought on by the accident or my broken leg. But I told them I was pregnant. My mom started crying then and my dad held my hand. They took care of my leg first, casted it. Then they wheeled me back for an ultrasound. My dad sat next to me, holding my hand. I cried the whole time. And then there it was. Our baby on the screen in a black bubble. I thought, “Thank God. We can keep it, it’ll be okay.” It looked like a little gummy bear. At that moment all I wanted was to keep it. To get to hold our baby one day.
I thought everything would be okay. But the doctor just shook her head and looked at me sadly. She said there was no heartbeat. The impact of the crash must’ve triggered a miscarriage.
I would have never wished to be seventeen and pregnant but I am devastated. My mom says it’s just as well. That no one wants to be a teen mom. I’m so sad without Cara and this baby that I started to picture in my head. I don’t even see the point anymore.
I don’t know how to tell you. I want to see you but I am scared you’ll hate me. I’ve lost Cara and our baby and I feel like life is over. I don’t know what to do.
I’m so sorry. I love you so much.
Mel
31
MELANIE
NOW
Ican hardly wait to get home from work and see Josh. Things with us have felt like magic lately—the connection, the music, the intimacy. It feels like a piece of me that has been missing for years has finally found its way back. I’m trying desperately to cling to it, even as the weight of everything I haven’t told him presses harder on my chest with each passing day.
I park next to his car in the back alley to my apartment. My neighbor is still out of town, so everything is quiet—too quiet. Most days when I get home, I hear Josh rehearsing from outside through the open windows. Today, there’s only silence. Maybe he went out for a walk. Maybe he’s napping.
But as soon as I push open the door, I know that something is terribly wrong. The air is too thick, too still. The shades are drawn. And there on the couch sits Josh, staring down a single glass of amber liquor and a bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the coffee table. Panic surges through me and I immediately feel like I’m going to be sick. That’s when I see it. Next to the glass…my note. My stomach drops. I wondered if he had seen it in my drawer that day. I guess he had.
He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t even flinch at the sound of the door.
“H-hi,” I manage but my voice breaks, and I sound as if I have laryngitis. “Everything okay?”
Josh turns to me then and the moment our eyes meet, I know I’ve made a terrible mistake. His eyes are rimmed red and puffy—not just tired. Wrecked. My pulse quickens and my heart sinks. Regret settles in my bones.
“You were pregnant?” he asks, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.
