brothers.

19~ Memory Lane

Susan

Davis closed his computer and stretched with a stressed groan. I glanced up from the photo album I was looking at, lying on my side of the bed. "Done?" I asked.

"Yeah." He stretched a bit more and sighed. "This account is ridiculous." He came to bed and sat on his side, looking at the photo album. "You've been looking at that every day."

"I know. I just... can't stop."

He scooted closer, his eyes also roving over the pages. Amy's baby face smiled back at us, along with our little boys. He chuckled and pointed at a picture of 4-year-old Kyle, who was screaming with joy. "Which one is that one?"

"That's... I think that's when he found out we were having a girl."

"Before... the twins?"

"Mm-hmm. This is before. That was after." I pointed at a different picture where Kyle is rolling on the floor in excitement, nothing but a blur in the camera. Behind him, Tommy is crying, probably startled by his sudden screaming.

I turned a couple pages. We reached the 'First Day of School' collection. Amy stood in front of her elementary school with Ivy and Monica, looking around 9 or 10. My beautiful little girl, so happy.

"Have you talked to Monica's parents lately?" Davis asked.

"Not lately. In fact, it's been a while," I realized. "She's not going to school this year."

"She barely went to school last year."

"I wonder how Ivy's doing."

In one of the pictures, the boys were piled onto Harry. Amy held the camera, making a peace sign and winking with her tongue out.

"God, I hated when she did that," Davis chuckled.

"You were too hard on her. She was only 10."

He shrugged. "People her age are always doing stupid things. I didn't want her to be like everyone else."

"Oh, please, you're one to talk."

"What do you mean?"

"'What do I mean?' What about our first date?"

He looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The limo, and the flowers..."

"It wasn't a limo, it was a sedan."

"With the chocolate fountain..."

He covered his reddened face in shame.

"And then the cute little dance-"

"Stop! Please, I don't want to remember that dance!" he cried.

"Why? It was adorable. And you had those shoes with Sharpie on them. Didn't your mother always say, 'Take those shoes off, they look stupid!'" My words faded into laughter.

To shut me up and stop reliving his embarrassing early 20's, he started tickling my sides. I tried not to giggle too loud and wake the kids. He chuckled, gently embracing me, and we continued looking at the pictures.

Page after page, we walked down memory lane. We watched Amy grow and change. Too soon, the pictures ended.

"We have to tell her, Susan," Davis suddenly said.

A cold feeling set in my stomach, and I closed the album. The light, happy feeling of nostalgia was gone. "I know."

"Maybe she's still awake-"

"We're not telling her now."

"Then when?"

I hesitated. "I don't know."

"We have to tell-"

"I KNOW-" I stopped, calming down. "I know we have to tell her, Davis. But..." I stood and put the album away. "I... I don't know what she'll do. The poor girl's miserable enough."

"She's miserable because we're hiding this from her. It won't be long before one of the boys­— most likely Harry— cracks and tells her. Or worse, it could be someone at school." He stood, approaching me. "And another thing. I want you to stop giving her our daughter's clothes. I want you to stop pretending she's our baby." His voice wavered and cracked as tears fell. "That is not Amy, and you know it."

"I know that's not her!" I snapped. "I bought her new clothes-"

"But you still gave her Amy's."

"Just- stop being so pressuring!" I walked away from him.

"Susan, I told you from the very beginning that this was a stupid and sick idea, but of course you don't listen to me! And all I can do is play along!"

"Lower your voice, they'll hear you!" I sat at our desk, wiping tears. "Just let me think, please. Stop yelling at me."

Davis sniffled, turning away. "I don't mean to yell, honey. I just want us to drop this whole... thing. That girl is a human being and she has the right to know. She's wondering why people are mistreating her at school, why the boys don't treat her right. And it's our fault." He sat on the bed. "I never should've let you do this. I could've contacted someone at church, let them give her a home."

"Saying 'should've, could've, would've' does not make it better," I said, vexed, though I knew every word was true. Maybe that was why I didn't want to hear it.

I didn't want Diana to leave. She was a sweet girl who deserved a home. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but if she left, where would she end up? She went through so much. I was between a rock and a hard place. "We can't just throw her back into that twisted system," I said.

"I'm thinking she could just live with someone we know. From church," Davis suggested.

"After you-know-who started those rumors about us? I don't think so!" I exclaimed. "None of them will want to foster her after that."

"Well, then... people outside of church."

"But they knew Amy. Everyone we know knew Amy— except our co-workers, but none of them have time to foster a teenage girl."

"We have time. How can they not have time?" he countered.

"Let me rephrase that. They'll just say they don't have the time. They won't want to take her." I scoffed. "You should've seen the looks on some of their faces when I told them we decided to foster."

Davis sighed into his hands. "Then, I guess we're... I don't want to say 'stuck with her', that's not fair. But... she's stuck with us. The least we can do is tell her the reason why she's getting all this hate. Then she can decide whether she wants to stay or not... if the system even lets her make that choice."

"... You're right. We should... tell her."

"Tomorrow."

"Not so soon," I begged.

"Sooner or later, someone will." He approached me again. I stood, letting him embrace me. "It's not fair to her or to our sons. It's not fair that we're forcing them into this. What we're doing is wrong."

"I know it is," I whispered. I broke into tears. "Why does this have to be so hard, Davis? Why did... why did any of this happen? Why did I find her?" I started sobbing into his shirt.

"I don't know, honey." He stroked my hair, lightly kissing my forehead.

"Please tell me that one day it'll be over. I can't take this."

"Me neither. I hope it's over."

After four boys, we had two girls... then we only had one.

And then we had none.

Thoughts on the parents? Theories?