Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“You made it,” my mom says to Mia and me, lifting Erik up and into her arms, adjusting him on her hip. “How was the trip?”
“Not bad. We hit some traffic but nothing major.”
“There’s always traffic.” She sighs. “Well, I’m glad you made it in one piece.”
Ever since Erik’s death and my accident, my mom worries every time I travel long distances in my car. What happened when I was a teenager was nothing more than a result of an unfortunate series of events. Since then, I haven’t had a single crash or a blemish on my driving record. It was nothing more than a response to my brother needing help and me feeling helpless.
These days I think of Erik more. I don’t want to forget the past or the memories we shared. If anything, now that I have a son and another child on the way, I want them to know their family. Even though he’s too young to remember, I tell Erik stories about his uncle. He knows I named him after my twin brother and mentions him from time to time.
When Mia found out she was having a boy, I knew Erik was the perfect name for him. My mom cried for days after I told her we were calling him Erik. She still does on occasion. Today is one of those days. Even though she tries to blink them away, her eyes are watery and filled with tears. She says Erik reminds her so much of my brother and me when we were his age.
“How long have you been here?” I ask my mom.
“Not long, maybe twenty minutes or so. You know, my usual visiting hours.”
Every day since she moved back to Boston, my mom has sat at my brother and father’s graves, who are now buried next to each other. Some days, she spends hours here talking to the dead, and knowing that breaks my heart. She never moved on, never got the second chance I had with Mia.
“Have you reconsidered my offer?”
I ask her every time we speak.
My mom’s gaze shifts between Erik and me until she settles on Mia’s stomach. She’s pregnant again, this time with a girl. Her belly is huge, two seconds from popping. I told Erik he could rub Mia’s belly for good luck, and now he does it every morning when he wakes up. Sometimes, I find him with his mouth pressed to Mia’s stomach whispering to his sister. Erik tells her about us and loves her already. He can’t wait to meet her. Neither can I.
I thought having a boy was the highlight of my life because I can pass my name onto him. But I’m honestly terrified of having a girl and the added responsibility that comes with it. My little princess will probably take after her mom, who’s always challenged me, but I’m ready this time.
My mom runs her hand over Mia’s baby bump and smiles. “I think it’s time.”
I sigh with relief. “Really? You’ll come live with us?”
She nods and then kisses Erik on the forehead, holding him tight against her chest. “Do you want Grams to come live with you and the new baby?”
Erik giggles. “Baby kicks me.”
All of us burst into laughter.
“When he touched Mia’s stomach last week…” I add for clarification, “… Willow kicked his hand.”
“Willow? I love the name.”
“My brother wanted Ethan to name his firstborn after him,” Mia says, rubbing her hand over her stomach. “He didn’t get his wish, so we compromised with Willow.”
“It’s a beautiful name for my granddaughter.” My mom scans the headstones in front of us. Her eyes are filled with sadness. “I wish your brother and father were here to meet your children. I bet if Erik were alive, he would’ve fought you for Mia.”
We both smile at the thought of my brother, who probably would’ve kicked my ass for a chance with my wife. Erik was the life of the party, the twin everyone liked, where I was always the one brooding in the corner, ignoring everyone. He was like Will, which was why I gravitated toward him when I’d first moved to Pennsylvania.
Erik thrashes in my mother’s arms until she sets him on the ground. My little guy moves between my brother and father’s graves and presses his tiny palms to the marble. He looks up at me with curiosity in his green eyes. “Grandpa and Uncle Erik live together. Grams is coming to live with us.”
My son reminds me so much of my brother when we were kids. We were identical, though different in so many ways, and my son looks just like our baby pictures. But his personality is my brother to a T.
I crouch down in front of him, fighting tears. “Yeah, buddy. Grams will make you the Mickey Mouse pancakes you like.”