THE NEXT MORNING, I wake up to the sound of coffee beans grinding. Sara, Holden, and my dad are already in the kitchen. My dad pours a tiny bit in a mug for me and fills the rest with milk, then lots of sugar. My mom doesn’t like it when I drink coffee, but my dad says it will grow hair on my chest. Charlie always thought that was so funny.

I put my cup down and glance over at the refrigerator. It’s covered with Charlie’s magnetic letters.

My dad clears his throat and looks at each of us. He opens his mouth, but it takes a long time for him to form any words. Finally, he says, “I’m going over to the restaurant today to talk to the staff. I — I’ll need them to help me make . . . Arrangements. Your mom. She can’t —” He grips his coffee cup. “Will you guys be OK if I leave?”

“Sure, Dad,” Sara says, putting her hand on his back.

I nod, looking inside my own cup.

He finishes his coffee and puts the mug in the sink. Then he hugs each of us. When he gets to me, his huge belly squishes against my chest. His plaid wool shirt scratches my face, and I close my eyes and try to hide in it. He squeezes me extra hard before he lets go, then leaves us in the kitchen.

Holden pulls out his phone as he walks out of the room. I turn to Sara, who glances over at the phone on the wall.

“There are so many people we’re going to have to tell,” she says. “I don’t know how that works. I can’t imagine any of us doing it, you know?”

I nod. “Maybe Mona could do it. We could give her Mom’s address book.”

“That’s a good idea. Let me see if I can catch Dad.” She runs outside to wave him down, leaving me alone. I walk over to the answering machine and stare at the flashing numbers showing all the messages we have. I remember helping Charlie record a new message just the other day. He made messages practically every week. Slowly, I press the PLAY button.

There’s a fumbling noise, then the faint sound of me whispering, “OK, now.”

And then Charlie in his little robot voice. “Hel-lo. Mom-my, Dad-dy, Sa-wuh, Hold-en, Fern, and Chah-lie ah not at home to take yo-uh call. Please leave a mes-sage, and we will call you back as soon as poss-ih-bull. Thank you. And see you at Hawee’s!”

I put my hand on the machine, as if I am touching Charlie. I lift it to my face. I play it again. “Hel-lo. Mom-my, Dad-dy, Sa-wuh, Hold-en, Fern, and Chah-lie ah not at home to take yo-uh call. Please leave a mes-sage, and we will call you back as soon as poss-ih-bull. Thank you. And see you at Hawee’s!” And again. “Hel-lo. Mom-my, Dad-dy, Sa-wuh, Hold-en, Fern, and Chah-lie ah not at home to take yo-uh call. Please leave a mes-sage, and we will call you back as soon as poss-ih-bull. Thank you. And see you at Hawee’s!”

His voice vibrates against my wet cheek as I play it over and over. Finally, I unplug the machine and carry it to the hall where my backpack is. I unzip my pack and hide the machine inside just as the front door opens. “Caught him,” Sara says, out of breath. “I’ll go get the book.”

When she comes back a second time, she tells me she’s going to try to get Mom up and out of bed. I want to tell her that shouldn’t be her job. I want to tell her I’m scared that it is. But I don’t say anything, because I think she already knows.

While Sara is upstairs, I slowly walk around the house, gathering up Charlie’s toys and things. I move his high chair into the kitchen closet and put his shoes and coat in the closet in the hall. I find whatever toys and books are lying around and put them all in the antique trunk we use to hide them in when guests come over. Each time I touch something of Charlie’s, I can see it in his small hands. I can see his beaming face looking up at me, begging me to play with him. And it hurts. It hurts so much. But I keep going.

Holden finds me in the living room and asks what I’m doing, but I don’t know how to answer. I just know that every time I see one of Charlie’s toys, it’s as if it’s waiting for him to come back. And every time I hold one, the ache in my chest hurts even more.

“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s just too hard to —”

“Let me help you,” he says.

Together, we quietly finish gathering Charlie’s things, then sit on the couch. The water is running upstairs, so I guess Sara got my mom out of bed and into the shower. When the doorbell rings, neither of us moves to answer. It rings again.

“We should see who it is,” Holden says. But neither of us gets up.

A minute later, the door creaks open and Ran walks in.