I gently reached out and brushed my thumb over her quivering mouth, feeling like breaking down in sobs too but really, really trying to stay strong. What Meg said about the baby was exactly how I felt about her. I didn’t know if she would be okay, but I really hoped she would. She wasn’t looking so good lately. Her face was drawn, her skin had lost its luster, and her eyes looked so, so tired.
“Hope is a really good name,” I whispered. And I kissed her.
I close the book when I reach the end of the entry, but something’s nagging at me that I can’t put my finger on. Meg recounted that conversation pretty much exactly the way I remember it, but though the memory is the same, it feels weird now. Off, like there’s something between the lines, something I’m missing. Huh.
It takes every ounce of energy I have—which, let’s be honest, isn’t much lately—to close the book after the second entry. I’ll read more tomorrow.
I bring the book to my face. It smells like her house, like Glade PlugIns and chocolate-cake-scented candles and carpet shampoo. That scent used to work its way into her hair. Whenever I had my arm around her—walking with her in the halls or around the neighborhood in the snow after she got too weak to go to school—I would lean down, kiss her head, and breathe it in. When that delicious, familiar smell hit me, I would have to stop, wherever we were, and kiss her. And every single time, she snuggled closer into me.
I lie down, place the book right next to me on my pillow, and let its lingering scent waft over me.
• • •
I jolt upright.
Shit. It’s Sunday night. 7:36 p.m. Soccer starts tomorrow morning, and I haven’t figured out what to do about Hope. I’m screwed.
Still half asleep, I reach out for my phone, and before I really know what I’m doing, I call Alan.
He picks up on the second ring. “Yo.”
“Hey. It’s Ryden.”
“I know. It was your ringtone.”
Okay, I have to ask. “What’s my ringtone?”
“‘99 Problems’ by Jay-Z.”
I think about that for a second. Weird, but whatever. Alan’s weird. Plus, he’s off by about a thousand problems. “What was hers?”
“Meg’s?”
Punch to the gut. “Yeah.”
“‘Stronger’ by Kanye West.”
“Oh.”
“What’s up? Everything okay?”
No. “Yeah. Listen, I have a question. Soccer practice starts back up tomorrow, and I haven’t exactly figured out what to do with Hope during that time. Any chance you want to watch her?” I clear my throat and spit out the rest before he can say anything. “It’s kind of all day, Monday through Friday, up until school starts. I know it’s a lot, and I know this is really random, but—”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah. It’s not like I have anything else going on. And I’d really like to get to know Hope. Just let me know what I need to do. I’ve never really babysat before.”
Well, that was easy. Wonder why I didn’t think to ask him earlier.
I hang up with Alan and fall back onto my pillow. But it’s not as soft as it should be. The journal. Guess I turned around a lot in my sleep, because the book is now half on my pillow, half off, and it’s fallen open.
I go to flip it closed but stop. There’s something written on the inside back cover. The writing is small, but the letters are clear. It’s a checklist of some sort.
Mabel
Alan
Ryden
My heartbeat picks up slightly. Mabel, Alan, Ryden. What does that mean?
I grab the other journal off my desk, the green one from the first day we met, and flip to the back cover. Nothing. I turn to the front cover. Also blank.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial a number I’ve never called before. Mabel picks up immediately.
“Are there any more?” I ask.
“Any more what?”
“Journals. Meg’s journals.”
“No, that’s all I have. I told you, my parents put all her stuff in storage.”
“Yeah, but you had time to take this one from her room before that happened. Did you take any others?”
“I didn’t take that one from her room,” Mabel says. “It was in my room. I found it stuck in a stack of books on my nightstand a couple of days after she died. By that time, all her stuff was already in boxes and being loaded onto a truck.”
I think about that for a minute. “You didn’t take it,” I repeat.