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I muster all the courage I have inside me and give James a quick nod. “Let’s go.”
I swing open the door and step inside the room.
The marks from my father’s hospital bed are still indented on the carpet. It’s a lot like his memory—he’s gone, but the marks from where he used to be are everywhere.
My eyes bounce around the empty walls. “It’s so bare.”
James sets down his spackling tools and lays the tarp on the floor. “It won’t be when you’re finished in here.”
I walk over to the sliding glass doors and gaze down at the choppy water below. “We used to sit out here on the balcony and watch the fireworks on the Fourth of July.”
“It’s a great view.” James stands behind me and wraps his hands around my waist, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Maybe we can do that this summer.”
I close my eyes and smile. “I’d like that.”
“Do you have pictures of him?”
“They’re in a box in the closet.” I tug his hand to pull him toward the closet doors and pause in front of them. “His clothes are in here too. I want to donate them. But maybe I’ll keep a few for myself.” I let out a bitter laugh. “My mother wanted to get rid of everything. After his funeral, she brought literal garbage bags back to the house, as if she could just toss him away. We had such a big fight.”
“What happened?”
“I told her that he left this house to me, so everything in it was my property. She stormed out, and I packed up his things by myself.”
“What did your brother do?”
I slide open the closet door and shrug. “He always sides with her.”
“Have you heard from him since Christmas?”
“All I got was a text sayingMerry Christmaswith a picture of the baby.”
James covers my hand with his. “It sounds like he’s so preoccupied with his new life that he doesn’t realize how much you’re hurting. Maybe you should try to have a serious talk with him. Lay all your cards on the table and be honest with him about the kind of relationship you want to have with him.”
“And if he doesn’t want the same thing?”
“Then at least you know where you stand.”
I flick through the hangers and land on my father’s winter coat. He always wore a brown leather bomber jacket with beige fleece around the collar. “I used to make fun of him, calling him Maverick fromTop Gunwhenever he wore this.He’d grumble about being taller and better looking than Tom Cruise.”
“Try it on.” James holds it out for me. “I bet it’ll look great on you.”
I slide my arms into the sleeves, and the scent of baby powder puffs up around me. My eyes glisten as I stare at my reflection in the hanging mirror across the room. It’s a tad long on the sleeves, but it fits.
“Well,” James says. “There’s no denying it now: He definitely wasn’t taller than Tom Cruise.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. I slip my hands into the pockets, and my fingers hit the plastic wrappers of his favorite Wint-O-Green Lifesavers. I pull out a handful. “Oh my god. We’ll probably find these mints in every pocket he had. He was obsessed with them.”
James chuckles. “Want to bet on how many we’ll find? I say one hundred.”
“Deal. I say we find two hundred.”
After we make two piles of clothes, one to keep and one to donate, I pull out a container with hundreds of pictures.
James picks one up and grins. “You were a chubby baby, huh?”
I snatch it out of his hand and feign a scowl. “I wasn’t chubby. I was healthy.”
He laughs and kisses my cheek. “You were adorable. Still are.”
