So, I do. I wait while the same pictures and video and sound play out, but I shut my eyes because I refuse to look again.
Until Sabin has a reaction I cannot ignore.
“Oh my God,” he says with a catch in his throat. “Oh my God, this can’t be right. Chris?”
So, I look to my left to see what he’s watching. He stops the video, rewinds, and hits the Play button again so that photos of me as a toddler at school flash by.
“Keep going,” Chris says with encouragement.
We all watch my former life play out.
Then, Chris says, “Right here. Listen. Listen closely.”
I’ve heard it so many times now, and I can’t bear to listen to my parents comfort me while I go on about Bingo and kisses.
“Do you hear it?” Chris puts his other hand on top of mine. “Do you hear it?”
I shake my head and look at Sabin. His face is one of such disbelief and confusion that I have to turn back to Chris. But I can’t speak now because something is gripping my heart. Something has started to creep in and take hold.
It’s Sabin who speaks first. “There are pictures here. Of me and Chris. With you, B.”
“Yes,” Chris whispers. “At daycare. We all…we were at school together. And based on those pictures, we were all friends back then. They were important enough for your parents to save, Blythe. They meant something.”
Sabin rewinds the video so that he and I can study the pictures. Now, I see it. Maybe, had I focused more on them, on their eyes, I would have seen it. But there are pictures of me between a very young Chris and Sabin. My hand goes over my mouth, and I gasp as I try to contain myself.
“Now, go to the video,” Chris says. “Listen. Blythe…” He almost laughs with disbelief. “Blythe, you’re not saying, ‘Bingo.’ And you’re not saying, ‘My kiss,’ like your parents thought.
“We…because of how crazy our dad was, we moved around so much. We were in Massachusetts at some point. This made me remember that. I don’t think it was for long, and we probably left right before this video was taken. So, listen to what you’re saying. You’re missing us.”
He lets it sink in.
And when it hits, when the reality hits, I nearly break. But in the most beautiful way.
“I’m saying…” I struggle to get it out. “I’m saying, ‘Where Sabin go?’”
“Yes,” Chris says.
“And I’m saying, ‘My Chris.’”
“Yes, you are.”
Sabin’s reaction is audible. His breath is sharp as he inhales understanding and memory. “You used to tuck me in. I remember bits and pieces. You used to sit next to me by my nap mat and rub my back. Chris?” He is alert with shock. “Chris, do you remember that? She used to rub my back. To watch over me.”
He rewinds the video, and I can see how his mind is racing to catch up with the memories.
“Blythe? Blythe? I remember you. I can feel you. How you…how you…you mothered me. You hovered and made sure I could fall asleep. I can’t see your face—it’s like I can only see you in a shadow—but I remember the feeling.”
“We must have moved. Again. And this video is Blythe asking for us,” Chris says quietly. “Do you see how much she loved you back then?”
Sabin and I are both too wrought up with feelings to talk much, but he nods emphatically.
“Blythe and me,” he gets out. “We were best friends even back then, weren’t we?”
“You were. Still, every day, you get to choose to have that friendship. You’re not friends because of this, but it’s good proof that you belong together. That we all belong together. Somehow, we circled back to each other.”
“Where Sabin go?”
“My Chris.”
