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He swatted my ass as he headed toward the bedroom.

“What about the bacon?”

“Fuck breakfast. I’m going to eat you.”

IT WAS EARLY AFTERNOON before we even thought about real food again. Carter had just microwaved one of the Tupperware containers in his fridge, and we were sitting in bed eating goulash by passing the container back and forth between us. He slurped an egg noodle into his mouth while making his eyes go cross. It was something a six year old might do, and that made me wonder what Carter might have looked like as a young boy.

“Do you have any photo albums?” I asked.

“Not with recent photos.”

“Do you have any of you as a boy?”

“I do, actually. When I moved down to Florida, my mother made me an album of old family photos. I found it with a letter when I was unpacking. She wrote that she wanted me to remember how much I was loved and asked me to look at the album at least twice a year—on my birthday and hers.”

“That’s so sweet.”

He handed me the almost empty container, and I declined my turn at stuffing my face. “I’m full. You can finish it.”

“I like eating with you. You only eat half, and I get to finish off the rest.”

“Better watch it. Might wind up with a pot belly eating two dinners all the time.”

“We’ll work it off and then some.”

I had no doubt we would. Carter handed me the water bottle we were sharing and I took a sip. “Do you do what your mom asked in her letter? Look at the album twice a year?”

“I do.”

“When is your birthday, anyway?”

“July Fourth.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No. Why?”

“That’s my birthday, too.”

Carter mumbled. “And eventually the pieces fall into place.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. It’s something my mother always said.”

“What did you do on your birthdays growing up?”

Carter finished off the last of the noodles in the Tupperware and stood from the bed. “I’ll show you.”

He came back a minute later with a thick photo album and sat with his back to the headboard. Adjusting me so I was positioned next to him, he opened the album on his lap. The first page had two pictures of a chubby naked baby that was probably about three or four months old.

“Is that you?”

“Yep. Look at the size of my balls. Why are they so big? Are all baby’s balls that size, or did I just have to grow into mine?”

I laughed. “I don’t know. But you were so cute! And chubby, too.”

The next page had pictures of two girls who were probably about six or seven and a boy of maybe four who was most definitely Carter. The chin dimple was a dead giveaway even if it hadn’t looked exactly like him. “Are those your sisters?”