Page 39 of Seashells and Other Souvenirs

Twisting my windblown hair up into a loose bun, I rub the sleep from my eyes and watch the guys get Donovan set for his early morning lesson.

Jude snaps one more shot of him practicing his stance on the board while he’s still on the sand and then jogs over to me.

“Here.” He fits the camera strap around my neck. “Just work on what I showed you yesterday with framing shots in thirds, okay? Have fun with it. We can edit them later.”

I lift the camera and look through the lens. “This one’s like my aunt’s. You should have Kelsey out here; she has more experience.”

He tugs on the end of one of my hoodie strings. “I like when you wear this sweatshirt.”

“Brings back fond memories of band camp?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Makes it feel like you and I are . . . a thing.” He lifts his eyebrows in question.

“Mmm.” I slide my arms into the warmth of the hoodie’s pocket. “I’d say we’re definitely . . . a thing.”

“Good.” He lifts the camera that’s dangling from my neck, holds it above our heads, and leans in close. “Smile.” He captures the moment, then passes it back to me, letting his hands make contact with mine a little longer than necessary.

“Hey, Romeo!” Ty yells from his spot at Donovan’s side. “You gonna join us or not?”

“Yeah,” he calls back. “Be right there.” But his eyes don’t leave my face.

“You’d better hurry,” I say. “I think Donovan’s still jealous I got you all to myself yesterday.”

He gives me one more grin before slowly backing away and turning toward his friend and nephew. I frame a shot and wait for him to get halfway to the water. “Jude!”

When he turns around, I press down the shutter. I know right away it will be my favorite shot of the day.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Kelsey helps Donovan rinse his plate and load it into the dishwasher. “You go get jammies on and teeth brushed, and we’ll watch a movie in the room tonight.”

“What about Uncle Jude and Alex?”

Kelsey pulls the party hat from his head. “I think they’ll be okay without us for a little while.”

Donovan scrunches up his face but eventually relents. He comes back to the table to hug me and Jude and then prances off to his room.

“Thanks, Kels,” Jude whispers.

She follows Donovan down the hallway. “You two behave.”

Jude pushes his chair back and starts clearing the table. “Nope.” He stops me when I try to grab the silverware. “You’re not allowed to help clean up your own birthday dinner.”

“My birthday was a week ago.”

“Technically.” He turns on the sink. “But I couldn’t cook for you then. So we’re making up for it tonight. Now, sit back and relax while I clean up, and then we can put on whatever movie you want. I might even let you win a round of Mario Kart.”

I ignore his instructions and start to carry serving dishes back to the counter to put away the leftovers.

He’d gone all out: Loaded macaroni and cheese, parmesan-topped breadsticks, salad (“Balance,” he’d said), and for dessert, cheesecake.

He even made a birthday banner with each triangular pennant transformed into a little wedge of Swiss.

“I just realized something.” I reach around him to the drawer with the plastic wrap.

He pulls the roll away from me and takes over. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know when your birthday is.” It still surprises me when I discover something new to learn about Jude; I feel like I know him as well as I do myself at times.

He keeps working. For a few seconds, I wonder if he heard me. “My birthday is October seventeenth,” he finally says as he crosses over to the fridge. “But I celebrate it in April. We’ve always done half birthdays in my family.”

“Ooh,” I draw out the word. “A tradition? See, you had them too.”

The fridge door closes, but he doesn’t turn back around. Something isn’t right. I walk to his side. “Jude?”

He inhales sharply and lets the air back out slowly. When he faces me, I’m sure it’s the closest I’ve ever seen him get to crying. I clamp my jaws shut, determined to give him silence for his words to land on.

It takes him another full minute to speak. “October seventeenth was never a day my family could celebrate. My mom—” He closes his mouth along with his haunted eyes.

My knee-jerk reaction is to rush into his arms, but I hesitate, afraid it’ll do more harm than good. I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together before now, and I’m furious with myself for causing him pain, even unintentionally.

He opens his eyes and reaches for me, pulling me to his chest. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper against his heart. He kisses the top of my head and holds me close.

We stand there like that for a long time, my heart hurting with every beat of his, him granting me the unparalleled privilege of sharing in his grief. When he finally lets go, I look up at his still-dry eyes. “I didn’t know.”

“I know,” he says. “I wanted you to. It’s not my favorite thing to talk about, but it’s part of who I am.” He shrugs. “And I guess it probably sheds some light on my family dynamics for you, explains why my dad hates me.”

“Jude.” My tears make up for any he lacks. “I get that things are complicated with your dad, but I do know that he doesn’t hate you.”

“How do you know that?” He looks down.

I grab both his hands. “Because it would be impossible for anyone to hate you, no matter how hard they tried.”

He attempts a smile. “Have you tried?”

“I haven’t,” I confess. “But I do have some experience with trying very hard not to fall in love with you.”

His lips pull upward, genuinely this time. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Not well at all.”

He sighs, his shoulders relaxing again. “Can I give you some advice?”

I nod.

“You should probably just stop trying.”

“I’ll be right back,” I tell him. “I want to show you something.”

I hurry upstairs and reach into the top of Kelsey’s closet where I stored most of the belongings I brought from home. Shoebox in hand, I take the steps two at a time and settle on the couch, waving Jude in from the kitchen.

He sits on the other cushion, eyeing the box in my lap. “So this is it, huh? It’s smaller than I thought it would be.”

“It’s from a pair of jelly shoes I got for my sixth birthday.” I run my hand over the label. “I loved those shoes so much. The box is kind of small, but this way, I can only keep what’s truly special. Anyway.” I transfer the box to his care.

He lifts the lid, sets it gently aside, and starts to unpack each keepsake.

A couple of postcards. A handful of photos.

A bottle cap. The real sand dollar that matches the silver one around my neck.

A small piece of pink boogie board foam.

A tiny wax candle. A waterpark wristband.

A recipe card. A few faded receipts. I watch him carefully leave his fingerprints on the corners of my soul, waiting for him to reach the bottom of the box, where I’ve buried my latest treasures.

The note with the little mouse drawn in the corner.

The front of an empty box of cereal. A flashlight battery.

A sticker with a band logo. A stolen Lego.

A wrinkled minigolf scorecard. A birthday poem.

A ticket to the aquarium and the picture of us on our first date.

After a while, he packs each item away and closes the box again, resting his hand on top. Somehow the moment feels even more intimate than our kiss. “Thank you, Alex. For showing me your heart. And for letting me be part of it.”

“I was thinking.” I take the box from him and set it on the coffee table. “What if we started something like this for you too?”

He shifts his weight and confesses, “I actually have a box. Not like this, exactly.” He points to mine. “It mostly holds important papers—the deed to the house, my car title, stuff like that—but I have a few little things in there. Do you want to see?”

“Of course. If you want to show me.”

He gets up and walks to his room, then reappears with a small metal lockbox, a very practical version of my tattered cardboard one. He sets it in front of me.

I unlatch the lock, leaning the top back on its hinges.

The aquarium photo identical to mine rests on top.

Underneath it are a few other pictures. One is a professional prom photo of Jude and a girl I’m immediately jealous of, but underneath that are several older ones of a beautiful lady who’d likely be envious of all the time I’ve gotten to spend with her son.

My breath catches as I find all the similarities between her face and his.

There’s one of him and Gavin and Kelsey sitting on the bottom step and another of the two boys arm wrestling.

The only other image of me in the collection is of Jude and me side by side at the ice cream place many summers ago.

I can still practically taste that summer.

Nestled between the photos and the stack of important papers he described is the gold medal I made him.

He takes it out of my hand. “I think I’m actually going to hang this one up so I can see it more often.”

I almost make a joke about winning it back, but I get sidetracked by a playbill peeking out of the other papers. I pull the corner gently to free it. “ Little Women ,” I read. “I thought you said you didn’t get the part.”

“I didn’t get the part I auditioned for.”

When he flips open the program, I scan the names, finding his on the right side and tracing the line to the left. “Professor Bhaer. Of course you were.” I laugh.

“Laurie got all the attention.” Jude takes the paper and tucks it back away with the others. “But Freddy got the girl.”

“Yes.” I watch him close up his box and think of all the room still left in it, the memories we could fill it with together. “Yes, he did.”

There are moments

Like the clasp

Of a necklace

Making everything

Connect

Taking what once appeared

To be a line

A string of events in a row

And bringing them

Full circle

The past

And the present

Encircling a soul

Resting against a heart

One and the same

After all