Page 120 of Every Move You Make

Robyn and I cheer like children.

Dell takes the opportunity to plug in our phones, set alarms, and get the room ready. Right before he gets back in bed, he grabs the hardback novel sitting on my nightstand under the lamplight. It’s the true crime book we’re currently buddy-reading.

“What’s this?” he asks, picking up the smaller hardback with a nondescript cover and showing it to me.

“Oh,” I hesitate, “That’s my mom’s baby journal she kept for me.”

“The what?” Robyn asks, rearing back to look me in the eyes.

I swallow. “Apparently, my mom kept a journal for each of us kids while she was pregnant and through the first year of our lives.”

“That’s adorable.”

“I haven’t read any of it yet.”

“Why not?” Dell asks.

I shrug. “I don’t really know.”

Robyn’s busybody self lights up. “Can we read it now?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Dell’s already sliding under the covers and leaning against the headboard with the journal in hand. Robyn and I follow suit, and the handwritten book is handed to me.

“Guess I’ll start with the first page?”

My partners nod eagerly, and for some reason, their interest sparks my own. The hurdle of opening her words doesn’t seem so high anymore1.

“September 20th,” I read aloud. “Hello, baby. It’s been two weeks since I found out about you, and this is the first chance I got to buy a new journal. You haven’t been with me long, but you’re definitely making your presence known by sucking all my energy. It seems all you want me to do is sleep.”

Robyn chuckles softly, and Dell wraps his arms around her before I continue.

“But it’s okay, sweetie. I fall asleep happy knowing you’re on your way. I can’t wait for you to meet your big sister, Angela. She already carries around a baby doll everywhere she goes, and most of the time, the baby is upright. You’ll be in good hands with us. Your father is downright beside himself with happiness. He can’t wait to meet you either. You’re already loved so much, baby. All my love, Mama.”

“Oh my god,” Robyn sniffles. “That’s beautiful.”

“Can you read more?” Dell asks.

Finding myself as eager as they are, I flip the page and begin again. “September 29th. For the last couple of days, I’ve had a melody that keeps playing in my head, and I think it’s yours. I’ll sing it for you soon once I figureit out. Your sister loves to dance, so you better take after me and not your father with your musical abilities. Angela and I will need all the help we can get against him. I haven’t decided on your nickname yet, so I’m going to throw anything that pops into my head. I love you, Donut. Mama.”

“Donut,” Dell chuckles. “I like that.”

“More,” Robyn smiles brightly.

Skipping ahead, I land about halfway through and clear my throat before reading the date—just two days before my birthday. “January 9th. My sweet, sweet child. If I get any bigger, I’m going to explode. Please hurry up and meet us. I’ve become a menace, and I fear for your father. He’s a strong man, but these mood swings would be hard for anyone to handle. I cried watching a commercial for laundry detergent today. Then again when I burned my grilled cheese at lunch. But your father said everything would be alright, and, bless his tone-deaf heart, tried his best to sing your melody. It didn’t calm me down so much as it made me laugh. I love you so much,Kluseczko.”

“What does that mean?” Robyn asks, but I have no idea.

Dell grabs his phone and leans over to read the spelling in the journal before typing it in. “Aww, it means ‘little noodle’ in Polish.”

“Another?” Robyn asks.

“Alright, one more, then it’s bedtime. You both need to be up early.”

“Yes!”

I smile and flip near the end. This is so much more than I expected. I expected a little snippet of her life and mine, sure. What I didn’t expect was really remembering her. Remembering her bright blonde hair and even brighter laugh. The way she sang and played piano like she was leading a tavern full of drunks through a ballad. The way she used to carry all of us—together—all over her body, as we giggled and shouted for her to run through the backyard. Thenshe’d make it as far as she could and yell for my dad to “Go on without me! Save yourself!” I remember her collapsing dramatically, and my father coming to her rescue, peeling child after child off of her with that hero presence he once had. He’d scoop her up and run away with her in his arms as we’d chase after them.

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