Page 45

45

Ben Stirling

Luca is rapt with the little container Jeremiah made for him. He’s placed his tooth in it and is holding it in both hands, cupping it like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever owned.

“So, do I put this on my bedside table or under my pillow, Jelly?”

“I think you should put the container on your bedside table. That way, the tooth fairy can’t possibly miss it, and there’s no chance of the tooth getting lost.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. I’m so excited. I can’t wait to see how much money I get. Can you believe what a great day this is? My tooth fell out, the tooth fairy’s coming, and soon, it will be Jelly’s birthday. And I’m getting pancakes tomorrow. And I’m going to play hockey three times next week. How many good things can happen at once?”

His enthusiasm is so buoyant and innocent, and it makes me want to cry.

Naturally, being Luca, he changes the topic completely and without warning. “You know what I’ve always wondered… What does the tooth fairy do with all the teeth? There’s a lot of kids in the world. That’s a lot of teeth. She must need them for something, or why would she pay money for them?”

It’s a damn good question, I have to admit. One I have no clue how to answer.

Fortunately, Jeremiah is all over it. “Now,” he says earnestly, “of course no one knows for sure because there’s magic involved, but when I was little, my Aunt Lissa told me that the tooth fairy loves piano music. The problem is that because fairies are so small, it’s very hard for them to buy pianos that are the right size for them. What the tooth fairy does is she collects kids’ teeth and uses them to make tiny keys for tiny pianos. Nice white teeth like yours are used for the white keys and rotten teeth are used for the black ones.”

A tooth piano made of rotten teeth? Jesus. Now I’ve heard it all.

I have a minor coughing fit from the effort it takes not to laugh. How Jeremiah keeps a straight face, I’ll never know.

Jeremiah is waiting for me downstairs. He’s curled up on the sofa with one foot tucked under him. The side lamp is on, hitting the frame of a photograph of Liz and making it glint. There’s a small vase beside it, filled with pink and blue surprise flowers. Jeremiah brought it with him earlier. I didn’t see him putting it next to Liz’s photograph, but Luca did.

Seeing her image, smile frozen in a different time and place, with the flowers Luca planted thinking she’d love them placed beside her, puts a lump in my throat. It’s a lump made of sadness because it will always be sad that we lost her, but it’s a lump that’s more complex in composition now. It’s a mix of sadness that she’s gone and gratitude that we were the ones who got to know her. At its core, there’s something different. Something new. A seed of hope. Of new beginnings and different endings.

I sit on the sofa and look over at Jeremiah expectantly. The need to be close to him is sudden and fierce. “Baby, what are you doing over there when my lap is empty?”

He giggles and scrambles over, ensconcing himself in my arms with his legs folded to his chest.

“Did he go down okay?” he mumbles as he tucks his head under my chin.

“Yeah, he was exhausted.”

“How long do you think you need to wait before you can go in and switch out the tooth for the money?”

“Already did it. He was out like a light, so he didn’t notice a thing.” I open my hand and show him the tooth. It’s tiny, worn smooth at the top, jagged and caked in dried blood at the root.

He makes a face and says, “Cute.”

“I loved the story about the tooth fairy, by the way. The Grimm brothers have nothing on you or your aunt.”

“Yeah, it’s…uh, one of those times where I didn’t realize how macabre it was until I said it aloud.”

We cackle at that, and Jeremiah makes himself into a smaller, tighter ball in my arms.

I hold him as tight as I can. “Can I tell you something stupid?”

“Of course! I’m a huge fan of stupid things in general and stupid things pertaining to you in particular.”

“Flirt,” I say.

“Don’t leave me hanging, Captain. What’s the stupid thing you want to tell me?”

“I, uh…” Now that I’m about to say it, it really does seem more stupid than I typically like to admit to being. Too bad. I want him to know. “I’ve been doing this thing for a while where I, like, write letters to Liz.”

He sits upright, gaining a little space from me so he can see me better. “That’s not stupid, Ben.”

“Oh, believe me, if you read the letters, you’d be singing a very different tune.”

He puts his head back on my chest, breaking eye contact and making it safe for me to tell him anything. Everything. “What kind of things do you write?”

I sigh long and low. “I write about things that have happened. Little things. Big things. Updates on Luca and life. Sometimes I have questions I know she can’t answer, but I ask anyway.” I tuck his head into the crook of my neck and run my fingers through his hair. “I’m thinking about writing her later to tell her about Luca’s tooth.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “You should. It was a milestone day.”

“I kind of want to ask what I’m supposed to do with a tiny, bloody tooth that contains our son’s DNA. Do I keep it? Do I throw it away? Where do you put things like that?”

“I have no idea,” he says, shaking his head dreamily. “I could ask Lissa if you like.”

I snort. “I’m almost afraid of what her answer would be.”

We’re quiet for a beat, and I take a deep breath, relishing the reassuring weight of Jeremiah’s body on mine.

“Thanks for telling me, Ben,” he says softly.

“Thank you for the surprise flowers. It means something that’s hard to put into words to see them next to her picture. And to Luca too. He mentioned it before he went to sleep.”

“God, you’re the worst, d’you know that? I can’t believe you promised me something stupid and then hit me with this. This isn’t stupid. It’s moving and self-aware and—”

“Darlin’, I was going through a drawer the other day, and I found a note to Liz that said, ‘Our new neighbor wears yoga pants,’ and to make matters worse, I’d crossed that part out, as if that made it better. Don’t come at me with that ‘it’s not stupid’ business.”

He screeches with laughter. “Yoga pants, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I have a thing for your ass. What can I tell you?”

Jeremiah looks as happy as I’ve ever seen him, batting his lashes and wriggling in my lap, stirring up good things. “Maybe I should start wearing them when I come over.”

“I hate to break it to you, baby, but if you come near me in yoga pants, you’re going to get a dick up your ass so fast it will make your head spin.”