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I unpin my arms from his hold and wrap them around his neck so I can see my phone. “Why are you in such a good mood?” Cordy asks for me.
He kisses my neck. Just once. But enough for my mind and body to spiral into an abyss. “I got this text from a girl last night—a girl I’ve been borderline obsessed with for years—and I dreamt about her. It felt so real, so raw, and when I woke up, I swore she’d be in my bed with me. She wasn’t, though. But she will be tonight, and so I’m going to make the most of the day until night falls and she’ll be in my arms again, her breaths warming my skin, her fingers in my hair, taking away this ache, this longing I’ve had for too damn long.”
My eyes drift shut, his voice still like a symphony playing in my ears.
He rears back, his hands on my shoulders. Then he nods, as if answering a question only he knows. “You should definitely kiss me now.”
“What?” I mouth, pushing against his chest. So damn cocky.
“Fine. Be stubborn. I’ll kiss you.”
I turn and walk out of his room, hearing his chuckle all the way down the hall. In the kitchen, Sadie’s sipping on her coffee, nodding as Tommy talks to her between mouthfuls of cereal. “My Becca taught me how to take photographs.” Chew. “She has special eyes and takes pictures of adventures all over the world.” Swallow. “Daddy said our Becca is in college.”
Sadie smiles when she sees me. “So you guys…” She points between me and Josh, now standing beside me.
He throws an arm over my shoulders. “Me and Becs? No.” He shakes his head. “She won’t even kiss me.”
Tommy laughs. “Oooh shit!”
“Don’t swear, Tommy!” Josh snaps.
The reverse beeping of a truck has Josh moving to the window. “Supplies are here,” he says, before turning to Tommy. “You ready to dig some holes, bud?”
* * *
Josh helps unload the truck while I sit on the porch steps with Tommy like we’ve done so many times before. He shows me the pictures he’s taken on his very own Instagram account. The kid’s five and has over twenty thousand followers and a bunch of blurry skate shots.
Sadie’s back in the house helping Grams change for the outdoor temperature.
Grams was a little standoffish when Sadie came in first thing this morning, but once Sadie explained that Josh had chosen her to help out, Grams seemed to accept her fate.
With hand signals, I ask Tommy if we can use his camera to take pictures of all the new potted flowers that just arrived. He agrees and tells me to come with him to choose the lenses. When we come back out, Grams is outside, her body so weak she has to hold on to Josh’s arm to help her stand. I stand behind them, smiling while Grams gives Josh orders about plant placement, and I remember the first time I saw them like this. I hadn’t yet gotten the nerve to come out, so I watched from behind the curtains of my bedroom, my interest piqued, my mind lost in wonder about the boy who would later steal my heart. My soul. My very existence.
“The roses should line the porch. I’ve always liked them there and they do well in the shade,” Grams struggles to say. “You know who loves roses, Joshua?”
“Who, ma’am?”
“My grandbaby Becca. Oh, I miss her.”
Josh turns to me, his eyes as wide as mine.
Grams adds, “Did I tell you she’s in college? Over in St. Louis. She’s going to take the world by storm with her photographs one day. Just you watch and see.”
Josh faces her. “Ma’am, Becca’s not in St. Louis right now.” He releases a breath, causing his chest to fall. “She’s here.”
There are currently over 1,025,000 words in the English language and not a single one of them could ever describe what I feel when Grams turns around and sees me. Not when her eyes fill with tears. Not when she steps forward, her palms cold against my cheeks. And not when her eyes drift shut after recognition fills them and she whispers my name like it’s a stolen memory. Not even when she repeats the words of a little boy who so easily became my best friend. “Becca’s home.”
21
—Becca—
should
Ê?Ê?d/
verb
1. used to indicate obligation, duty, or correctness, typically when criticizing someone’s actions.
I help Sadie with Grams to settle in for the night, and then take any personal things from my room to the spare one, making space for Sadie to move in. I say goodbye to the curtains, the window, the wallpaper I once loved/hated, my chest aching and swelling at the same time. Then I begin to pack what little things I’m bringing back to St. Louis and shoot off a text to Dad, keeping him informed with all that’s going on with Grams.
