Page 177 of Unloved

That, and I’d found a new hobby—home videos.

Ro cried nearly every night of her fourth year, deep into the research for her dissertation and constantly feeling like she was missing something every time she stepped out the door for school.

So I started videoing everything Elsie and I did—Archer, too—in hopes that Ro never felt like she missed a second. I really put my off-season time to good use.

They read off the names rather quickly before Archer leans over with a quick, “She’s next.” He takes Elsie from me so I can film just off stage where I can see Ro, green high heels the only pop of color—other than the numerous cords decking her black robe.

“Dr. Rosalie Shariff!”

“That’s my wife!” I shout, hand cupped to project my voice. Archer bounces Elsie up so she can see her mom. She coos and giggles, clapping her little hands together. I film one handed and shoot a thumbs-up to Ro as her professor settles the hood on her shoulders.It jostles the funky cap nearly off her head, but Ro puts a hand on the cap to hold it and returns my thumbs-up with one of her own.

Her smile is dazzling.

My cheeks feel wet, tears tracking across as I watch her. She waves to us again, and I look at Archer, realizing he’s crying, too.

I’ve never been so proud in my entire life.

I love you, I mouth. We’re close enough for her to see it and she blows me a kiss and mouths the words back.

These girls—this family we’ve made. This is what I was made for—for loving them, protecting them all.

I know my mom is gone. But she is here, in me. In my softness with Ro. In Archer’s love of me. In Elsie’s vibrant green eyes. I can feel her everywhere, even when I’m not looking for her.

One year later…Ro

I’m having one of my bad days. With my new job, these days are few and far between, but today has been exhausting. I’ve gotten sick too many times today, until the professor I currently work with finally sent me home.

Tears burn my eyes as I sit in the car inside the garage, so I open my phone and flip through the videos in my Life with Elsie folder of all Matt and Elsie’s videos together.

“Hey, Mama.” Matt’s happy tone crackles from my phone speaker. The video doesn’t show him, only baby Elsie in her highchair. “We’re trying something new today.”

Elsie slaps her hands on the pink plastic tray and giggles, eyes shining as she watches her dad. She’s been smitten with him since her birth, eyes sparkling whenever he enters a room and calls for her.

Like mother, like daughter.

Matt opens a container, propping the phone up so I can see them both in the wide-frame shot. He takes a tiny baby spoon and dips it into the beige-colored mush.

“Okay, I’ll go first, Els,” he says to our daughter, ruffling her head of dirty blond curls as he plops the baby food into his mouth. His face wrinkles up. “Oh my God, this shit is disgusting!”

Elsie giggle-screams like she can understand what he’s said. He blushes and shakes his head, a smile splitting his face even as he struggles to get the baby food down.

“I feel bad even giving it to you,” he mutters, but zooms the spoon toward her like an airplane—complete with loud, animated noises. Elsie easily eats it, her grin never wavering.

I click out, feeling lighter, as I always do when I watch one of the videos he sends me. They were mostly for when I was away for too long during school, but I’ve begun returning the favor when he’s away for games or practices. Even Archer sends videos into our group chat.

Stepping into our house, I hear Mouse before I see him—our boxer, who is clumsy and overeager as he rushes my legs with a yelp. Right after him, I hear an excited, “Mommy!”

Elsie comes stumbling in, Archer hot on her tail. She’s fast—tall for an almost-two-year-old. I scoop her up and greet Archer quickly as she babbles to me, half-real words, half-garbled.

“Is Matt home yet?”

Archer nods with a smile. “Yeah, I was watching her while he made dinner.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “He made dinner?” At this, Archer blushes and shrugs before kissing my cheek and then Elsie’s.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

“Bye, Grandpa Ace!” Elsie shouts, waving as he leaves. He doesn’t have to go far—when we built the house, we had a father-in-law suite built across from the garage. So we all have privacy, but he’s always here.

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