Lily.
Then at Grandma.
“You made this?”
“Started it.”
“When?”
She looked away.
“Years ago.”
Mom’s eyes widened.
“How many years?”
Grandma ignored her.
“Look in the pocket.”
There was no pocket that I could see.
Then I noticed a tiny inner fold near the waist.
Inside was an envelope.
My name was written on it.
The handwriting was Grandma’s, but shaky.
Much shakier than the writing on cards she had sent me years earlier.
I opened it.
The first line said:
“For the baby I hope I live long enough to meet.”
I couldn’t keep reading.
I put the letter down and covered my face.
Mark crouched beside me.
“You okay?”
I nodded even though I wasn’t.
Grandma said, “Read it.”
“Out loud?”
“If you can.”
I looked around.
My mother was crying.
My uncle was pretending not to.
Half the party had gone quiet.
I swallowed and began.
