“So, have you decided on a name?” my mom asks.
Camryn and I look at each other, and we’re both thinking the same thing.
“Not yet,” Camryn answers, and it’s all that she says. I know I’m probably the only one in the room who sees it now that the name issue has been brought up: Camryn can’t help but think about Lily. But she lets that moment pass and kisses our baby on the cheek, so obviously proud of what she has despite what she lost.
Most of the family is gone before night falls, but our moms hang around a little longer afterward, getting to know each other. This is the first time they’ve officially met. And finally they leave, shortly before seven, just as the nurse comes into the room to check on the baby and Camryn.
When the three of us are alone again, I dim the lights in the room so that only the one near the private bathroom is on. Our daughter is sleeping soundly in Camryn’s arms. I know Camryn’s tired, completely exhausted, but she can’t bring herself to lay the baby down so she can get some sleep herself. I offered to take her so she could sleep, but she insisted she stay awake.
I watch the two of them for a moment, such a perfect moment, and then I walk over and sit down on the side of the bed next to them.
Camryn looks over at me, then back down at our sleeping angel.
“Lily,” I say simply.
Camryn looks back over at me, confused.
I nod slowly as if to say, Yes, you heard me right, and I touch our baby’s soft head again.
“Do you remember what I told you? Back in Chicago when I found the pills?”
She shakes her head no.
This time I touch Camryn’s face, tracing my fingers down one side and then the other.
“I said that Lily just wasn’t ready then.” I pause and then add with a smile, “Same soul, different body.”
Something thoughtful sparks in Camryn’s eyes. She tilts her head gently to the side, looking at me in wonder. And then she gazes down at the baby again and doesn’t look back up for what seems like forever.
When she does, tears are trailing down her cheeks. “You think so?” she asks, hopeful.
“Yeah. I do.”
She starts to cry harder and gently presses baby Lily against her br**sts, rocking her. Then she looks up at me and nods several times. “Lily,” she whispers quietly and kisses the top of her head.
The next morning, I stir awake in the chair beside Camryn’s bed where I fell asleep the night before. I hear Camryn’s voice speaking quietly in the room, and like every other time before, I pretend to be asleep while she reads that letter I wrote her months ago.
Camryn
38
Dear Camryn,
I know you’re scared. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared, too, but I have to believe that this time around everything will be fine. And it will be.
We’ve been through so much together. More than most people in such a short time. But no matter what, the one thing that has never changed is that we’re still together. Death couldn’t take me away from you. Weakness couldn’t make me look at you in a bad light. Drugs and the shit that comes with them couldn’t take you away from me, or turn you against me. I think it’s more than safe to say that we’re indestructible.
Maybe all of this has been a test. Yeah, I think about that a lot and I’ve convinced myself of it. A lot of people take Fate for granted. Some have everything they’ve ever wanted or needed right at their fingertips, but they abuse it. Others walk right past their only opportunity because they never open their eyes long enough to see that it’s there. But you and I, even before we met, took all the risks, made our own decisions without listening to everybody around us telling us, in so many ways, that what we’re doing is wrong. Hell no, we did it our way, no matter how reckless, or crazy or unconventional. It’s like the more we pushed and the more we fought, the harder the obstacles. Because we had to prove we were the real deal.
And I know we’ve done just that.
Camryn, I want you to read this letter to yourself once a week. It doesn’t matter what day or what time, just read it. Every time you open it, I want you to see that another week has passed and you’re still pregnant. That I’m still in good health. That we’re still together. I want you to think about the three of us, you, me and our son or daughter, traveling Europe and South America. Just picture it. Because we’re going to do it. I promise you that.
You’re everything to me, and I want you to stay strong and not let your fear of the past taint the path to our future. Everything will work out this time, Camryn, everything will, I swear to you.
Just trust me.
Until next week…
Love,
Andrew
I look up from the letter in my hand, letting it rest on the bed at my side, clasped in my fingertips. Lily is sound asleep next to me in the hospital bassinet. It took some convincing by Andrew before I finally agreed to lay her in it instead of just holding her throughout the night. But I did wake up often to check if she was still breathing. I check again now. I can’t help it; I’ll probably do that for months.
Finally, I fold Andrew’s letter again into the same worn creases. He probably thinks that I’ll stop reading it now that Lily has been born. But I won’t. I never stopped reading the first letter he ever wrote me, but he doesn’t know that. Some things I keep to myself.
“Ready to put those destinations into that hat?” Andrew asks.
I wonder how long he’s been awake. I look over at him and smile. “Let’s wait a few months.”
He nods and rises from the chair.