When I show Mom and Dad the boxes under my bed, Dad cries. Mom pulls me into a gigantic hug and kisses my cheeks over and over again.
Oh, Audrey! You have no idea what you’ve done for us. We thought we’d lost it all.
When did you do this? Dad asks.
When you told me the dam might breach. I thought if the house flooded, the water bottles should be upstairs so we could drink them. Then I saw the boxes and decided to take them upstairs too. I put everything under my bed for safekeeping.
Now Dad is hugging me too. He lifts me up and spins me around and says my name over and over again.
You are so clever. Cleverer than the rest of us. What would we ever do without you?
Late in the afternoon we take a break from cleaning and sit in the family room to go through the items. First we look at Mom’s and Dad’s photo albums from their childhoods. They only have a handful of albums each because cameras used film back in the days. It was expensive to take and develop a lot of pictures.
My grandma was a scrapbooker and made albums and albums of Mom growing up, from baby to university student. Mom and Dad were in high school in the eighties, so Mom’s wearing colorful leggings and leg warmers in a lot of photos. In one of Dad’s high school photos, he’s wearing a tie-dye track coat and pajama pants.
That’s hideous, Clare says, and they laugh.
There’s also the baby book of Dad that Grandma made. It’s full of pictures of Grandpa. I don’t remember Grandpa very well because I was only seven when he died. He looks like a stranger in the pictures of him holding Dad as a newborn. He looks too young to have a baby.
Next we move on to our baby items. Our three baby books. Photo albums. Folders of school pictures and artwork. Little dresses, sleepers, and blankets Mom wanted to keep.
She picks up a small blue sleeper with teddy bears on it and presses it to her face. When she pulls it away there are tears in her eyes.
It still smells like him. How can it smell like him after all these years?
I don’t even realize I’m doing it. I crawl into her lap like I used to do as a little kid. I’m crying now too. Mom presses my cheek against her chest and kisses the top of my head. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Dad and Clare are hugging too. Dad has pulled her into the crook of his arm and she’s burying her face in him.
I want to apologize. I need them to know that every day I wish I could have just stayed in that stupid gym-not-dojo.
The important thing is that we still have each other, Dad says. And our memories.
I feel Mom nodding. A hot tear hits the top of my head.
Adam was always so happy, Clare says. Her voice is muffled because she’s talking into Dad’s chest. That’s what I loved the most about him.
Dad tilts his face to the ceiling like he hopes the tears will slip to the backs of his eyes. I loved that too, he says. Adam was always up for learning new things and doing something. Dad laughs but it sounds like a sob. Even when he was six and we took you all to Mexico. We thought he’d be happy just playing in the pool and swimming in the ocean, but he wanted to go on all the excursions.
He was so sweet and loving, Mom agrees. Her voice breaks on the last word.
It’s my turn. Everyone goes quiet.
He was nice to me, I say, and feel Mom’s arms tighten around me. I know it was my fault. I say it loudly enough for everyone to hear. Adam would still be alive if not for me.
Oh, sweetheart! Mom turns me around to face her. It wasn’t your fault. We’ve been so worried you felt that way but didn’t know how to bring it up with you.
It was just an accident, Dad tells me. A terrible, terrible accident. None of it was your fault. Please don’t blame yourself, Audrey.
I glance at Clare. She’s staring at the floor. Dad’s hand is rubbing her shoulder over and over again. A robot arm.
Sometimes bad things happen in life, Mom says. We can’t prevent them. Sometimes we can’t even learn from them. Sometimes bad things happen and we wonder why they could possibly happen to us and what we did wrong. But we did nothing wrong. You and Adam did nothing wrong. You’re a good kid, Audrey. Do you hear me?
I nod because I don’t think I can speak.
It’s normal to feel guilty when someone dies, Mom says. It’s one of the stages of grief. We all feel guilty about something when it comes to Adam. I feel guilty for things too, but I loved Adam with all my heart.
Dad reaches out and takes Mom’s hand. I feel guilty for pushing him to play sports when he wanted to skateboard, he says. I wish I’d told him I thought he was great at it.
Clare finally looks up. He knew, Dad. And Mom, he knew you loved him and he wouldn’t want you to feel guilty about anything. I think he’d be happy to see us all getting along. I know that’s what he wanted.
Thank you. Mom’s voice sounds like a whisper.
Dad glances at Mom. Clears his throat. I think this would be a good time to tell Audrey. Don’t you think, Margaret?
I feel Mom nod. She twists so I can see her face. It’s wet with tears.
Sweetie, we’ve made a decision.
We’re going to give it a try, Dad tells me. You can go to whichever school you choose.
Really?
Really.
I look at Clare. Mom and Dad look at Clare. I can feel Mom’s arms tense around me. When Clare stands, I stop breathing. She’s going to get upset. She’s going to yell and run out of the room like she always does.
Instead she pulls me to my feet and gives me a hug.
You deserve it, Audrey, she says. I’m glad you’re coming back.