Skip to content 
“So you decided I would feel guilty before I even knew?”
“I was scared.”
“You were scared?”
Her voice rose. “What about me?”
“Hannah, please.”
“It’s been 18 years, Mom.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
She pointed at the chest.
“Dad knew enough to save all of this, but you all let me grow up thinking I was an only child.”
David said, “I should’ve told you sooner.”
She turned on him. “Then why didn’t you?”
He went quiet.
“Because she said no?”
He looked at me. “That’s not it. We were both hesitant about telling you.”
Hannah laughed once, bitterly.
“Great.”
She walked inside.
I followed her.
She grabbed her purse.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t be here right now. I need some space.”
“Please don’t leave like this.”
She looked at me.
“How exactly am I supposed to leave?”
I didn’t have an answer.
She spent that night at my sister’s house.
The next morning, David put the chest on the dining room table.
I couldn’t stop staring at it.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
He looked exhausted.
“You would have gotten rid of it.”
“I would not.”
He gave me a look.
“You took apart Rosie’s crib before I got home from the funeral home.”
“That was different.”
“You made your mother take down the hospital photo.”
“I couldn’t look at it.”
“Exactly.”
I sat down. He ran a hand over the lid.
“I wasn’t trying to hide it from you forever.”
“Eighteen years isn’t forever?”
“I thought you’d eventually be ready.”