Page 42 of The Things That Hold Us

“I've been holding onto this for a while now, but the time has just never been right.”

As I tear the paper, I see a small vintage jewelry box. It has burnt orange velvet all around, and a small golden hook on the front. The box itself is stunning.

“Mom, this box is gorgeous.” I tell her.

She just laughs, “Ok now open it.”

I laugh with her, then slowly undo the hook on the front. I’m so scared I’m going to break it.

As I lift the top, I see a necklace, with an oval locket that has filigree engraved on it.

I pause, and look up at her, “What is this?”

“Open it.” she says, her tone more serious now.

Gently, I pull the locket from the box, setting in on my nightstand.

I hold the locket in my hand, amazed at the details on it, then slowly open it.

There’s a ripped piece of notepaper, with writing I’ll never not recognize.

“Sam's handwriting.” I mumble, more to myself than anyone else.

“Where did you get this?”

“I had him write it for me, before he came home. I said I wanted to make you something with it.”

Charlie Girl

I read it over and over. It’s been so long since I heard him call me that, and my heart longs for it more than I can put into words.

“You’ve had this this whole time?” I ask her, my brows pinching together.

She nods her head, then looks down at the locket.

“I was afraid if I gave it to you too soon, it would trigger you and send you back into the headspace you were in afterwards. I was waiting for the right moment, but then remembered, there will never be aright momentfor anything.” she looks back at me, “I knew you needed to see it, so I brought it with me.”

I blink away tears, God I’m so tired of crying.

“Thank you, mom. I absolutely love it.”

I reach it out towards her, “Would you put it on for me?”

“Of course I will.” she says, her eyes glistening.

She hooks the necklace, and I look down at it.

Charlie Girl

God I miss hearing him say that. I miss hearing him say my name in general. I squeeze the necklace in my hand, never wanting to let go of it.

The taxi arrives, and the man helps us load her stuff into the trunk.

We hit some traffic, but make it there with 10 minutes to spare. I walk her as far as I can without getting in trouble, and start to dread the goodbye I know is coming.

I absolutely love when I get to see her, but this is the hardest part.

Both of us are crying before she even turns to hug me.

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