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“Hi, Aaron. It’s nice to see you too.” He is glaring down at me, and my guilt has me shrinking back even further.
“Unfortunately, Erica has gone back to San Francisco. I dropped her off at the airport this morning. Would you like to come in, have coffee, explain yourself?”
His tone is tight. I should take him up on his offer, but I say, “No thank you,” and turn to go.
Before I step off the porch, I turn around and say, “I’m in love with her. Will you tell her that when she calls?”
Mr. Melvin says, “No, you can tell her yourself. It should come from you.” I turn and walk to my car, and drive away.
Now what do I do? I call Scott on the way home.
“Looks like you might have to fly to San Francisco to talk to her. You can’t do this over the phone.”
I nod in agreement and decide I need a way to win her back. I ask Scott to meet me at Mom and Dad’s later in the week and hang up. A hazy plan is starting to shape my mind, but I need a few days to work it out.
***
My parents have put out a nice spread for brunch. I haven’t eaten much over the last few days, and my stomach is growling.
“Hey, Mom, where are the pickles?” I hear Scott ask.
I’m in the living room looking over all the photo albums my parents have kept since I was born. I take a bite of my sandwich and look over at my dad.
“Thanks for helping me with this. I really appreciate it.”
“You know we are here for you. We don’t listen to the crap on the media sites or entertainment news. We will listen to you, though; anything you need to do to win her back, we will help you. You just tell us what that is, okay?” My dad pats my arm before he gets up to get more food.
I’m left alone with the albums. For a few minutes, each picture has a memory that makes me smile, and I spend time reminiscing.
The couch jumps and interrupts my reverie. It’s Scott. He can't sit on a sofa like an average person.
“What’s up, little bro? What are we all doing here?”
I look at my family gathered in the living room and tell them my plan. “...so I need all the pictures of Erica and me separated to make the video.”
Everyone nods and grabs an album.
As we go through the albums, we take trips down memory lane. Scott holds up a picture and says, “Remember this shiner I gave you when you wouldn’t return one of my records?”
I look over and grimace.
“Yes, I remember; it was before the eighth-grade school dance. I had to go with a black eye, and none of the girls would dance with me. Thanks for that.
Mom holds up another picture. Erica and I are on a play date, and we are each sharing our snacks. Even then, she was a generous soul.
“Hey, son, look at this one.” I get up and go over to my dad, who is pointing to a picture of Erica and me at the water park, soaked and smiling.
This is what I’m hoping this video does for Erica and me. I want to bring us back to the center, help us remember how entwined our lives are, and how much more I want to entangle them. I hope she sees how much I love her and how much I want to raise our baby together.
In a few hours, we gathered all the pictures of Erica and me from over the years, from diapers through Orlando. I’m surprised by the ones from that trip, as I had no idea anyone was taking pictures. My favorite is the one at Epcot when we thought no one was looking. We certainly do not look like we were faking an engagement.
“Wow, this is great. I have so much to work with. Thank you so much.” My throat tightens at how my family is always there, pitching in, helping, and loving. “I love you guys.”
My mom gets up and gives me a tight hug. “Anything for you.”
I hug her back just as tightly. I gather up all the pictures and hug everyone goodbye. On the way home, I start arranging photos in the order I will put them in. I feel a lightness in my heart I haven’t felt since Orlando. When I get home, I head straight to my scanner and begin working on the video that will bring Erica back to me. I already know which picture will be the last and most impactful.
It’s midnight by the time I finish the video. I worked non-stop, and I think I have a perfect draft. It helps that I do this for a living.
