Page 117 of Keeping the Score

I’ll have to tell Andi about this. It’s not going to be easy. But fuck… again, Willa had the guts to do it. So can I. We’re doing it for Tilly.

I’ll do anything for Tilly. And I’m in awe of Willa’s love that she took these steps, in her situation. My annoyance with her and how she showed up out of the blue has evaporated. I can only imagine the agony she went through coming to that decision.

I’ll do anything for Tilly… and for Andi. The knowledge that Andi loves me and is waiting for me gives me strength.

I think about these things all the way home. Dread forms a knot in my stomach as I carry Tilly and the box of items Willa gave me up the elevator to my place. I assume Andi’s still here, and she is, cleaning in the kitchen.

She looks up as we walk in, then drops the kitchen towel on the counter and moves toward us, wide-eyed. “Are you okay?”

I must look like a ghoul. I set sleeping Tilly on the floor in her car seat, lower the box to the floor next to her, and step into Andi’s embrace. I bury my face against her hair, closing my eyes against the smart of tears, the agony of a knife turning in my gut. Sobs overtake me and I shake against Andi. We cling to each other for endless moments.

“Shhh.” She runs her hands over me, holds me tighter. “It’s okay. You’re here. I’m here. Tilly’s here.”

I give a mute nod, embarrassed but helpless.

“I love you,” she whispers, kissing my jaw. “I love you. I’ve got you.”

My chest shudders. I try to breathe, holding Andi tighter.

I thought I didn’t need anyone else. But I was so, so wrong.

“We need to sit down,” I say, my voice husky. “And I really need a drink.”

When we’re seated in the living room with glasses of bourbon in hand, Andi says, “We should wake up Tilly. This’ll throw her off schedule.”

I look at her and give her an unhappy smile. “You know what? There are worse things than getting off schedule. Let her sleep.”

Andi’s eyes are soft and warm as she nods. “Okay.”

I tell her about Willa, choking out the words, dashing a couple more tears from my face. Andi listens, covering her mouth at one point, closing her eyes at another.

“She postponed some of her cancer treatment because she was pregnant.” I can barely say the words through the gravel in my throat. “I… she was worried about how it could affect Tilly.”

“Oh no.” She covers her mouth, eyes big and shiny. “What if that…”

“She didn’t say that made a difference in her recovery. I didn’t want to ask. But holy shit.”

Andi is silent for a moment, then says, “She has no other family?”

“She said a few cousins that she doesn’t know.”

Andi nods.

“She gave me these things.” I rise and retrieve the box from the foyer. I set it on the coffee table and lift the lid. “These are legal papers, giving me full custody. Tilly’s birth certificate.”

“Ohhhh.” Andi sighs out the word. “Oh my God.”

“This…” I pick up a sealed envelope. “This is for Tilly. It’s a letter from Willa. She said she leaves it up to me to decide the right time she should have it.”

Now Andi’s eyes are wet. She snags a tissue from a box nearby.

“And she wants Tilly to have these things. I didn’t look at what’s in here.”

I pull out a small teddy bear, a simple one for a newborn. Then a smaller box. When I open it, there’s jewelry there—some gold necklaces, a birthstone ring, a pair of diamond earrings. It’s not much, but that makes it even sadder.

There’s a book calledYour Story, and when I open it, there are pictures of Tilly, and Willa has written in her weight and length at birth, one month, two months, and little stories about Tilly. Jesus, this is killing me.

There are baby clothes, again tiny newborn ones—a couple of dresses, a onesie, a pair of impossibly small socks. I hold up a thumb drive and meet Andi’s eyes.

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