Chapter 32
Roman
The vague smell of paint and fresh carpet lingers in the air as Ian, Griffin, and Taryn take a look around the house.
In the past five months, I’ve renovated every single room, installed a new garage door, repaved the drive and the cracked sidewalk, and torn out the dead tree in the backyard, making room for a swing set.
Dante helped a lot, but Ian and Griffin took turns on weekends, when they could, helping me paint and spackle.
It was important for me and them that they were here.
As we worked, they told me stories about the house, memories they had—good and bad—some about Dad, but mostly all about Mom.
It healed all of us to fix up the house.
When we finished the kitchen, we all measured ourselves against the doorway, marking it with our names and year.
Mazie’s looking forward to seeing how she grows. I am too.
“A smidge over,” Taryn says, and I barely move the frame before glancing over my shoulder at my sister. She nods. “Perfect.”
I settle the photo and stand back, folding my arms over my chest.
“It’s perfect there,” Ian says, gesturing to the windows on either side of it, the sunshine pouring into the room, mimicking the light in the photo behind our mother.
“Thanks for holding on to it for me,” I tell Griffin. “I told you I’d come for it.”
He grips my shoulder tightly. “You did, and I’m real glad.”
Silence descends between the four of us as we admire Mom.
Her long, dark hair around her shoulders, her big smile, a book open in front of her.
We can’t be sure, but we estimate she was in her early twenties when it was taken.
Andi found the photo in Griffin’s closet, and she blew it up, framing copies for each of us.
When Griffin texted me to tell me, it was in the middle of a bad day with Mazie.
At that point, we hadn’t seen Amy in a few weeks—this was before she was even arrested—and I’d finally soothed Mazie to sleep after a crying jag.
Then the message came through with a picture of the photo, and I had chills all over.
A voice in the back of my head that sounded suspiciously like my mother, telling me it was time to go home.
Three years later, I finally did it.
Home.
With my family.
Taryn clears her throat and sniffs. “You did a wonderful job, Rome. Everything, the house, Mazie… Be proud of yourself.”
I manage a tight smile, feeling like there is a balloon in my chest. “Thanks.”
Ian points to the custom shelves Dante installed. “Is that the pillow?”
When I nod, he crosses over to the wall to pick it up.
After Mom passed away, we all chose some of her personal effects to keep.
Taryn took the I Love Lucy collectibles, Griffin picked a box of pictures, and Ian brought home the few pieces of jewelry she wore.
I chose the pillow. Mom taught high school English her whole career, and one year, her graduating seniors made her a pillow, signing their names and messages about how much they loved and appreciated her with a big #1 Teacher in the middle.
I’m not sure why, but at the time, it felt like it was evidence she was important not only to me but to the world. She was beloved.
“And the blanket,” Ian notes with a laugh.
I also chose the baby blanket, the one she supposedly used to wrap all of us in to bring us home from the hospital. It’s a thin scrap of material now, with so many holes it is unusable, but I could never let it go.
Especially now.
Even though it’s purely sentimental, it’s a reminder of why I called my siblings over in the first place.
With a deep breath, I face them and let it rip. “Eloise is pregnant.”
Like they did months ago, they stare at me, eyes like saucers, and then shout, “What the fuck?”
But this time, Mazie is out of the house, at the park with Eloise, so there is no foulmouthed little girl to repeat it.
When they come back to their senses, they converge on me in one big group.
“Congratulations!”
“When’s the due date?”
“Does Mazie know?”
“You did good, kid. You did real good.”
“I guess my lessons on birth control never stuck.”
I give in to a laugh that’s rough with emotion and lift my head, turning to look at Mom.
Smiling at all of us.