I Was Placing Flowers on My Twins’ Grave When a Boy Suddenly Pointed at the Headstone and Said, ‘Mom… Those Girls Are in My Class’
“Would you like some tea?”
I stepped closer, staring. “Where did this come from?”
Ms. Edwards kept her voice low.
“I don’t know how much I can tell you, Taylor. But Demi said those were her sisters. She talks about them sometimes. Her mother, Macy, brought the photo. She said it was from their last ice cream trip.”
I pressed my palm to the wall, needing support. “Macy gave it to you?”
“Yes. She said the loss was really difficult on Demi. I didn’t ask any questions, how could I?”
I nodded, throat tight. “Thank you. Really.”
“I didn’t ask any questions.”
She gave my hand a squeeze. “If you want it taken down, just say so.”
I shook my head, voice thick. “No. Let Demi keep her memory.”
***
At home, I found the courage to call Macy. The phone rang four times before her voice, thin and wary, answered. “Taylor?”
“I need to talk.”
A pause. “All right.”
Macy’s house was smaller than I remembered, the front garden littered with Demi’s toys. She met me at the door, hands shaking.
“Let Demi keep her memory.”
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