Tucker flashes through my head at that thought. Things with him have become easy. In a matter of weeks, I’ve gone from pissed off that he’s the head contractor and having to fake datehim, to feeling myself falling for him more and more with every day that passes.
Sometimes it knocks me off my feet, because how can a one-night stand consume my mind this much? It doesn’t feel right, but at the same time it feels like what I need—what I want.
I make my way upstairs as the golden glow of the sunset sweeps through all the open windows. The master bedroom is taped off, with a hole in the ceiling covered with plastic until tomorrow. I stand in the doorway and my eyes find the box of my grandparents’ memories sitting in the corner.
Lifting the caution tape, I duck under it and make my way toward the box. I sink down against the wall beside it. My hands hover over the lid of the wooden box. I’ve been trying so hard to find something that gave me a deeper connection to this house—something to make it feel like it’s mine and not just a project. But now that I’ve found it, I’m afraid of what happens if I look even closer than I did before.
I open the box hesitantly, and staring back at me is a single photo of Mimi Millie, smiling at the camera. And it feels like she’s smiling atme. My fingers tremble as I lift it. I stare into her eyes through the image, as if I can see her now. As if she’s here in this home with me. I flip it to the back of the stack, coming to the next picture. It’s the house from years ago with flowers blooming along the porch and that old swing glider that’s now against the edge of the property line, sitting in the front grass right next to it.
Flipping again to the next one, I freeze, sucking in a sharp breath.
Because that’s me.
A little girl with messy hair sitting cross-legged on the porch floor.
I flip to the next picture. It’s me again, bundled in the same blanket I found in the crawl space, and Millie’s head is thrown back in laughter as I make a funny face at her.
Another picture.
I’m tucked into the corner of the living room, knees pulled to my chest, the blanket wrapped around my shoulders while old cartons flicker on a small box television. I had to be about three in that picture.
I keep flipping and flipping—picture after picture. So many more memories of me and her. Photos of her and my grandfather. And I don’t remember any of these moments. Despite the proof sitting in the palm of my hands, I don’t fucking remember.
I press the photos to my heart and let my head fall back against the wall behind me as tears slip down my face. I don’t bother trying to stop them. I’m crying for the memories I didn’t know I had. Crying for the years I didn’t ask questions. Crying because this house didn’t just belong to her, it belonged tous.
All this time, I’ve been trying to force a connection.
But it was already here.
It was just waiting for me to look.
I sit upright, digging in my pocket for my phone. Lifting it to my ear, it rings twice before my dad answers.
“Hi, honey.”
“Dad,” I say, my voice breaking as I say it. “Why? Why did we stop coming here?”
There’s silence on the other end and he doesn’t answer.
“I found pictures,” I add quickly. “Dozens and dozens of me. Of Mimi Millie and Pop Pop. I don’t remember any of it, but I was here. A lot.”
Another long stretch of silence, and I feel anger bubbling inside of me as more tears drip down my cheeks. I close my eyes with the phone to my head and my head falls back against the wall again.
“Why?” I ask again, barely above a whisper this time.
I hear movement on the other end of the phone, a chair scraping and footsteps as the TV in the background fades away like he’s moving. And then I hear my mom’s voice. “Who is that?” she asks him, but it’s faint.
My dad lowers his voice. “We can talk about this another time, Scottie.”
“Dad.”
He exhales—heavy and hesitant. “I promise, honey. I will tell you everything.”
“Billy?” my mom asks in the background, much closer this time.
“Talk soon,” he says and then hangs up.
My grip tightens around my phone as I bring it to my lap, and without him saying it, I know. I know now it had to be Mom.
