I bit my tongue.
***
Now, I knelt at their grave and pushed the lilies gently into the grass beneath their photograph.
“Hi, babies,” I murmured. My fingers brushed the cold stone. “I brought the flowers you like.”
My voice came out smaller than I expected.
“I know it’s been a while.” I continued, “I’m trying to be better about visiting.”
The wind tugged at my hair. And then I heard the little boy again.
“Mom! Those girls are in my class.”
I turned slowly. It wasn’t a coincidence anymore.
“Hi, babies.”
The little boy must have been six or seven. He stood a few steps away holding his mother’s hand, pointing straight at the photograph on the headstone.
His mother quickly lowered his arm. “Eli, honey, don’t point.”
She looked at me with an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “He must be mistaken.”
But my heart had already started racing.
“Please… can I ask what he meant?”
The mother hesitated. She crouched to meet her son’s eyes. “Eli, why did you say that?”
“He must be mistaken.”
He didn’t look away from me. “Because Demi brought them. They’re on our wall at school, right by the door. She said they’re her sisters and they live in the clouds now.”
That name. This wasn’t random.
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Demi’s your friend at school, sweetheart?”
He nodded, as if it were obvious. “She’s nice. She says she misses them.”
His mother softened. “The class did a project not too long ago. It was about who’s in your heart. Demi brought a photo with her sisters. I remember how upset she was when I fetched Eli. But look, maybe they just look alike…”
“She says she misses them.”
Sisters. The word made my stomach twist. I glanced down at the headstone, then back at Eli.
“Thank you for telling me, sweetheart,” I managed. “Which school are you in?”
They left, the mother glancing back over her shoulder, maybe worried she’d let her son say something unforgivable. I stood there, arms wrapped around myself, feeling the ache of memory sharpen into something electric.
Demi. I knew that name, everyone who knew what happened did.
“Thank you for telling me.”
***
Back at home, I paced my kitchen, touching every surface as if the world might vanish if I didn’t keep moving.
Macy’s daughter, Demi. Macy, the babysitter.
The pieces tumbled in my mind. Why would Macy keep a photo from that night? Why would she give it to Demi for a school project?
I stared at my phone, thumb hovering. What was I even supposed to say?
Finally, I hit call.
“Lincoln Elementary, this is Linda,” came the receptionist’s voice.
Macy, the babysitter.
“Hi, my name is Taylor. I’m sorry to bother you, but… I think my daughter’s photo is up in a first-grade classroom. They, Ava and Mia… they passed away two years ago. I just…” My voice faltered. “I need to understand how it’s being used.”
There was a long pause. “Oh. Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry, hon. Would you like to speak with Ms. Edwards, the class teacher?”
