I swallow. “Do you know where Dad’s old cameras are?”
Her hands pause for a second. “Why?”
“Tobias said something the other day that just… stuck with me. He told me he used to own a photography business.” I exhale, rubbing my thumb along the mug. “I thought maybe if he had a camera again, he might feel more like himself.”
Mom doesn’t speak for a long moment. My chest tightens.Shit.Did I mess this up?
“I know they’re special,” I add quietly. “But I thought maybe they could be used for something good again, you know?”
When I look up, her eyes are shining. She reaches across the counter and covers my hand with hers.
“That’s a wonderful idea, honey.”
“Really? You don’t mind?”
“No. Of course not.” She breathes out, voice softening. “I don’t know if they’re in good condition anymore, but yes. He can have them. They’re just collecting dust downstairs with your father’s things.” She looks far away, then holds a finger up. “Actually, you know what… Sasha was learning digital photography before she died. Her camera might be closer to what Tobias used. I could try to find it.”
Her voice wavers. The idea of going into Sasha’s room still hurts her. I know it.
“Do you think Taren will be okay with that?” I ask gently.
“I’ll ask,” she says. Then, adds with a faint smile, “But have you seen the way Taren is with Tobias?”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Everyone seems to like him.”
“Of course they do. And I’m sure he’ll take good care of them,” she says.
“I know he will. He takes care of everything we’ve given him since he got here.”
She snorts. “More than some of you. He even makes his bed every day.”
I laugh.
It’s been five years since Dad died, yet most days it still feels like last week. I still catch myself looking toward the door, waiting to hear him ask if I want to go for a run. I’d give anything to go for one more.
But thinking about giving his cameras to Tobias… that feels right. Like something that lets him stay with me a little longer. It eases the pain.
Plus, it’ll help Tobias. Give him joy when he desperately needs it.
I hope, anyway.
“Is everyone going tomorrow night?”
Mom hums. “Taren and Evelyn are staying, but otherwise, yes.”
“Is Jericho going?”
She nods. “He wasn’t going to, but Bronson really wanted him there.”
Her hand rests over mine. “You okay?”
My throat tightens. “Yes. No.” I exhale. “It’s kind of a mixed bag, honestly.”
“You and me both.”
When our eyes meet, I can see we’re thinking the same thing, even if neither of us says it:Hopefully this is the last Remembrance for a long, long time.
After finishing my drink, I go to the basement. The large, poorly lit room doubles as a cold storage room for all of Mom’s canned goods, with large shelving units attached to the walls and forming a center aisle. Mom usually keeps everything clean and organized in here, with dates and labels on every tote. So when I get to the back wall where all of Dad’s things are, I’m surprised to find there’s a thick layer of dust on all the boxes.
