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I want to tell him that’s not healthy but who am I to talk? I’m over here dreaming up conspiracy theories.
“We better get back to it,” I say, sighing. “I only have you for another day and a half.”
The thought of Theo leaving so soon is upsetting and I suck in a breath as I stand up and walk over to another box.
“I’m sorry that I have to leave so soon.”
I shrug. “I get it. I’m just going to miss you.”
“I know. I miss you, too, and I missed so much time with Mom by being away. When my contract is up in a couple years, I don’t think I’m going to reenlist.”
“You know what you want to do once you’re a free man again?”
He laughs, shaking his head as he stands up. “Nope. It’ll be a fun adventure.”
I giggle as I pull a taped up shoebox out one of the bigger boxes. Frowning, I inspect it before glancing up at Theo.
“Let me see your knife.”
He flips the knife in his hand and holds the handle out to me. Taking it from him, I cut through the tape and sit down on the couch with the box in my lap.
“What is it?” Theo asks and I shake my head.
“I’m not sure yet.” Carefully, I open the lid and scowl at the photo of a little boy sitting on top. Underneath that is a stack of handwritten letters that almost completely fill up the box. Grabbing the one on top, I unfold it and start to read before turning to Theo.
“I think these are love letters to Mom.”
His eyes widen and he joins me on the couch. “What?”
He grabs another letter and unfolds it as I read through the one in my hand.
“Listen to this,” I say, reading from the paper. “I understand your reason for leaving, baby, but it doesn’t make this any easier. You leaving punched a hole right through the center of my heart and I know that I won’t feel whole again until you’re back in my arms.”
“I have to believe that this is just part of our story, sweetheart,” Theo says, reading from his letter. “Because if I think about this being the end, if I consider that you were never meant to be mine, I don’t know how I’ll go on.”
“It’s signed “Love, M”,” I point out and he glances at the bottom of his letter.
“This one, too.”
Reaching back into the box, I grab the photo of the boy and his bright blue eyes punch me in the gut. “Who do you think he is?”
“I have no idea,” Theo replies, glancing down at the photo.
Reaching into the box, I pull out the letter on the very bottom and gasp as I read the date at the top. “Theo, these letters go all the way back to right around the time we were born.”
He grabs the first letter I was reading. “The top letter is dated July 1998. That’s right before we moved here.”
Our eyes meet and I can hear all the questions running through his mind as they mix with mine. I can’t help but feel like this is just one more thing that our mother took to her grave.
* * * *
Right before Mom moved Theo and me to Baton Rouge, we were staying at this small motel right off the interstate in Omaha, Nebraska. As six year olds, Theo and I hated being cooped up in that room but Mom didn’t like for us to go outside, not with the kind of places we were staying in but a couple days before we left, she took us to the zoo. I can still remember it like it was yesterday. We spent the whole day there – from the time they opened until they ushered us out of the gates. Looking back, it was one of the few times I saw Mom looking carefree and I wish she were sitting across this dining room table from me so I could ask her all of the questions that have been swarming around in my head for the past week.
A week.
Seven days.
It’s such a short amount of time and somehow, it still feels like forever when all I want to do is talk to my mom. I sat in this exact chair three days before the accident, telling her about how work was going at the diner and talking about my plans to go to school someday while she nagged me about moving back home so she wouldn’t have to worry about me so much. I wish I had taken her up on that offer. Maybe things would be different now if I had.
