Usually when we’re here, we each take turns talking to Mom, and I call out to the brother who can’t get his head on straight. My dad sits on a bench nearby, holding the phone with Xavier’s face on the screen. I read my mom’s gravestone for the millionth time, sighing when I read how young she was when she died.
Fisher takes a small safe out of his duffel bag and puts it on her gravestone. “I found this in the basement.”
“What is it?” Adam asks.
“It was Mom’s,” Fisher says.
They all look at me, and I roll my eyes.
“What? And you just found it now?” Cade looks at our dad.
“As I explained to Fisher, whatever’s inside, your mom put it in there when she had a health scare about two years before she passed. Obviously everything turned out okay with her health, but when she put that safe together, she was convinced she was sick.”
“Dad says we all have to agree on whether we want to open it or not.” Fisher looks at us one by one.
“This seems unfair since I’m in San Francisco,” Xavier says. “I could have flown… no, I couldn’t.” He pushes his hand through his hair and sighs. “My vote is to open it. If there’s something in there specific to me, just keep it until I come home.”
All eyes go to Cade. “I say we open it.”
“Adam?” Fisher asks.
He nods. “Open.”
“Open,” Fisher says for his vote.
Again, they all look at me.
I’m scared to see what’s inside, but I’m not the kind of person who can walk away without knowing. “We should open it.”
Fisher picks it up, and my dad pulls a drill out of the bag sitting next to him.
“Okay then. You all agree. But before we open this, I want to say something.” My dad holds the phone out to Cade, who takes it and turns it so Xavier’s looking at our dad as he hands the drill to Fisher.
“Go ahead, Dad,” Adam says.
“Your mom loved you all. You were her life. During this health scare, she was so worried about dying. Worried about leaving you all and not seeing you grow old. The relief when we found out it was nothing to worry about was one of the happiest days of our lives. And then the accident happened a couple of years later. She got two years more than she thought she’d have with you.”
I lower my head. She could’ve had our entire lives.
“I feel like we need to talk this through as a family. We’ve dodged this conversation for years, and it’s about time we put it to rest, here and now. Chevelle!” my dad barks.
I look up.
“She would’ve had it no other way. You were only five and just wanted to be with your brothers. As you will find out someday if you become a parent, you would give up your life for your child at any cost.”
I look away, ashamed, but spot Cade, Adam, and Fisher nodding.
“If something had happened to you that day…” Dad shakes his head, tears in the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know that she would have been able to go on. If she were here today, she would tell you that she does not regret what happened. Not at all. One thing she said to me during her health scare was, ‘Better me than one of you.’ She never wanted to see any of you in pain.” He rests his arms on his thighs. “Sometimes I wonder if she would’ve been better at this than I am. If it had been me, maybe you wouldn’t carry around all the scars from that day.”
“No, Dad,” Cade says. “It just would’ve been about you.”
Dad nods. “It was an accident. No one is at fault, and there’s nothing anyone could’ve done.”
“I could have not gone on that ice,” I murmur.
“Do any of you boys blame Chevelle?” my dad asks.
I steel myself for their answers. My stomach flips over, and I feel as though I might be sick.
“No,” they say in unison, and a tear slips down my face.
“Do you worry about her all the time and the guilt that consumes her?”
“Yes,” they answer.
“Chevelle, honey, you were five. I want you to think about Emelia or Trey. They’re already a few years older. Would you blame them?” My dad looks me square in the eyes and waits for me to answer.
I shake my head.
“Do you believe either of your brothers would willingly die if it meant their child was safe?”
I nod, crying harder at the thought.
“Then stop blaming yourself. I know you’ve all forgotten certain things about your mom, but I’m here to tell you, she would be so upset to know how much guilt you carry around with you, Chevelle. Cam is a good guy, and the accident that happened last week was just that—an accident. And it turned out in our favor. We didn’t lose anyone we love, and we get to be grateful to still have them in our lives.”
We all remain silent.
“If life has taught you anything, it’s that tragedy can strike when you least expect it, so cherish every good thing and live your life to the fullest, kids. Now, open the safe.”
Fisher starts up the drill and buries it in the lock portion of the safe. It pops open. We all watch him stop the drill and pull out the bit.
I let out the breath I was holding while he was drilling.
“It’s open,” Cade says.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Someone see what’s inside,” X says.
“You do it, Dad,” Fisher pushes it our dad’s way.
He puts the safe on the bench and opens the lid. My brothers rush over to see, but I stay back, afraid and anxious to know what’s inside.
“I knew it,” Adam says. “Letters.” He lifts his out of the safe.
“Dad got a mixed tape.” Fisher smiles.
“She loved me more,” Dad says, laughing.
I edge closer. There’s a note on the cassette that says, “Listen to me when you miss me.” How will that go over with Marla? I shake my head because that’s my dad’s business, not mine.
Dad passes Cade my letter, who passes it to Adam, who passes it to me. Scripted in my mom’s handwriting is Chevelle, my darling little girl.
“So, everyone’s good, right?” Adam asks, digging his car key out of his pocket.
“Adam,” I sigh.
“We’re not all gonna sit here and read letters she wrote us, are we?” he says.
“No. I’m reading mine in private,” Cade chimes in.
We all know Fisher won’t read his here because he likes to act as though he doesn’t have emotions.
“I think we’ll all read on our own. And if you don’t want to read it, that’s okay too.” Dad stands.
He’s obviously crazy. I’m tearing into this as soon as I’m alone.
“Xavier, I’ll hold on to yours until you’re back in town,” my dad says.
“Thanks, Dad. All right, everyone, I gotta get down to the field for practice. I’ll chat with you later.”
We all say goodbye, and he hangs up.
I say goodbye to my brothers, but my dad lingers beside me for a moment. “I’m going, but I hope you heard what I was saying earlier. At some point, you have to stop blaming yourself. What happened the other night could happen to anyone, and it has, but you got out on the good side. Be thankful and move on with your life. Cherish the things that matter. Don’t push them away.”