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Judy isn’t home when Jen gets back from work. It’s odd, and she has to take a second to catch her bearings. Usually, Jen walks in to find Judy in the kitchen, dancing to some annoyingly cheery music, shaking her hips and making dinner for their little family. God, their family. It still doesn’t feel real, sometimes, whenever Judy laughs at one of her sarcastic quips and calls her funny. Whenever she falls asleep to the staccato of her breathing, feeling safe enough to wrap an arm around her midsection without the fear of her leaving in the morning.
In true Judy fashion, she leaves a note on the counter. Going to the store for a bit! I cut up fresh fruit- it’s in the fridge. Love you, hot stuff!
Jen smiles and rolls her eyes at the way her body responds to her girlfriend who adorably dots her eyes with a heart. She still needs to get used to the subtle I-love-you’s hidden in everything Judy does. The I-love-you’s and the I-care-about-you’s drive her to love harder, deeper, each time the sun rises and sets. Like clockwork.
She mulls around the house for a bit, not used to how empty it feels. What does Judy even do when she’s home alone? After a few minutes of flipping through a magazine, Jen sighs and decides to lay in bed until Judy gets home. Then they’ll also lay in bed, but together. Always together.
Something in the corner of their bedroom catches her eye, peeking out from underneath the nightstand. She’s gotten used to Judy’s stuff mixed with her own- a chaotic, albeit affective, type of organization that only they can understand. Like how Judy will just throw a hair-tie somewhere on the floor only to remember where it is the next time she needs to use it, or how Jen doesn’t pair her socks before putting them in the drawer because it takes too much time away from her day. But Jen can tell that this box is new, because she’s never even seen it in the guesthouse before.
She wonders if Judy meant to hide it, which is probably the case. For a while, Jen plays this tug-of-war in her mind over whether or not she should open it and, ultimately, curiosity wins.
The box itself is small, and she holds her breath while she removes the top. She’s delicate with it, like it will break from anything besides a light, gentle touch. She figures that anything that involves Judy should be cherished, should be loved.
The bottom of the box is coated with folded loose leaf paper, a sea of words that pop out and explode all over the room, sticking to the walls and the ceiling. Jen only reads two words- dear baby- before quickly placing the top back on the box and shoving it back where she found it. She instantly regrets snooping; a heavy weight settles in the pit of her stomach, sinking further with every hopeless, devastating word that surrounds her. The thought of Judy writing to her miscarried babies cuts so deep into her heart that she can’t breathe.
When she hears soft footsteps climbing the stairs, she quickly wipes her smudged mascara and grabs a book off her dresser to make it look like she didn’t discover the most heartbreaking thing she’s ever seen. She just wants to wrap her up in a blanket and hold her until she feels nothing but comfort and love and home.
“I’m back!”
She plasters a smile on her face when Judy walks into the room, all smiles and rainbows. She doesn’t know how one person can hold so much light inside of them. She feels the bed dip and immediately reaches for a warm and pliant body, releasing all the air left in her lungs.
“Someone’s affectionate today,” Judy whispers in her ear. Jen just blushes and burrows her face further into her neck, trying to slow down the quell of her heart.
“Mmm, can you blame me? You’re adorable and it’s sickening how much I love you.”
Judy breathes out a laugh, squeezing her arms tighter around her girlfriend. Never in a million years would Jen ever think she’d enjoy being the little spoon, but what can she say? Judy just brings out the weirdest and most perfect things in her.
Even though they’re in bed and cuddling and so in love, Jen’s guilt about the shoebox tugs at her insides. She feels obligated to say something, anything.
“I have something to tell you,” she says. She feels Judy stiffen beside her, but she also still feels hands run slowly down her sides so she continues in a rush. “I saw your shoebox and I peeked inside it but I didn’t read anything, I swear. I’m so so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
She pulls her lips into her mouth as she waits. For anger, disappointment, for Judy to walk out and never come back again. She shuts her eyes and waits for this dream she’s been living to end, for reality to wash in like a tsunami and drown her.
But Judy doesn’t walk out. She doesn’t yell. She just nods, once, and sits up, pulling Jen with her.
“I was waiting for you to find that,” Judy says. “It took you over a week. I thought you were the smart one, Harding.”
Nothing seems to be registering in Jen’s mind other than the fact that Judy’s not disgusted by her utter lack of boundaries.
“But those were private notes-“
“So you did read some.” Judy raises her eyebrows and smiles, reaching up to tuck a strand of wild blonde hair behind Jen’s ear. Jen shrugs away from the touch, not understanding why she isn’t being screamed at right now. Ted would have lost his mind if she went through his things.
As if Judy can read her thoughts, which she probably can, she adds, “don’t worry, I’m not mad.”
“I didn’t read past the opening,” Jen says. “I didn’t think you’d want me to, considering how personal the subject matter is.”
Judy sighs and places her head on Jen’s shoulder, sinking into her, right where she belongs. “Baby, I’m an open book when it comes to you,” she says. “You literally know all of my deepest, darkest secrets.”
“I mean, yeah, that’s true. But-“
“I want you to read them.”
Jen’s eyes widen at her words. “Are you sure?”
She feels a pair of lips kiss the top of her forehead. She revels in the way it makes whole entire body flood with warmth.
“I’m sure. Can you grab them?”
It takes a while for Jen’s legs to move, but eventually, they do, and she gets up to grab the box she haphazardly shoved back into its hiding place.
“I want you to open it,” Judy says, “and read them in order. There are numbers on the top right corner.”
Jen’s hands shake as she takes #1. As she reads, she can feel Judy’s eyes on her. For some reason, Jen feels content.
#1
Dear baby,
We’re only a few weeks along, but I can already picture your sweet little face. We are so excited to meet you. Your daddy and I decorated a little room for you, all set up for when you’re ready to come out. I’m going back to the doctor’s tomorrow. You are so precious and so loved, you have no idea.
Love,
Mama
Jen looks up, her mouth quirking up at the corners. She takes a moment to really look at her girlfriend. Her dough eyes are wide, wide, wide, her lashes fluttering. She reminds Jen of an angel.
“You are the most amazing mom,” she says. She says that a lot, she tries to say it a lot, because Judy needs to hear it. She truly is incredible with Charlie and Henry, always so attentive to their needs. Jen doesn’t know what she’d do without her.
“You’re an amazing mom,” Judy says. “I’m an amazing step-mom.”
“Stop that either now,” Jen demands. “You know as well as I do that those kids consider you just as much of a mother as me.”
Judy just sighs and plays with the stray ends of their blanket. “Can you read the others?” she asks, and Jen nods.
#2
Dear baby,
Your daddy told me we should wait before we tried again, but I just had to give it another shot. And guess what? We found out we’re pregnant with you! I’m trying not to get too ahead of myself, but I can already feel you growing inside of me. I can’t wait to feel your little feet kicking. Gosh, I love you.
Jen squeezes Judy’s hand, just a little tighter, just a little firmer, to ground herself. Like an anchor, making sure she won’t let her emotions drift her away from what’s really important: Judy. Jen needs to make her feel safe and loved. So, so loved.
#3
Dear baby,
Are you really in there, sweet one? Can you hear our prayers? Can you tell that we’re scared? I’m trying to be strong for you, because you deserve it. But I can’t help but wonder if this is all too good to be true. I’m happy that you’re here, but I hope you don’t disappear.
Love,
Mama
#4
Dear baby,
I’m sorry I failed. Again. We thought you stuck it out this time, but as it turns out, your little heart decided to stop beating. I don’t know why the universe decided to do this to us, but I will always be your mama. You are loved, even when you aren’t here anymore.
Love,
Mama
The little note beneath Jen’s fingertips trembles as she tries not to let her tears fall. Judy, on the other hand, is weeping openly, her body convulsing on the bed. When Jen goes to comfort her, Judy waves her away.
“Keep reading, please,” she sniffs, “I need you to keep reading.”
“Okay,” Jen sighs. “Whatever you need.”
She steels herself for number five, making sure to steady her hands and her heart.
#5
Dear baby,
Steve told me to stop trying. I know he doesn’t want to see me cry anymore, but it feels like we’re so close to holding you in our arms, and if I stop now, there’s no hope left. I feel like I failed you. I was supposed to protect you, but I couldn’t do that. I want to kiss the top of your head and rock you to sleep. I’m so sorry.
Love,
Mama
It’s after this letter, that Jen lets her tears spill over. Reading what Judy felt in that moment- all the hopelessness, the sadness that comes with miscarriages- made her feel so helpless. She wishes she knew Judy when she was going through that. She wishes she could have held her hand in the hospital room and let her cry on her shoulder. She hates Steve for making her feel so small.
“I love you so much,” Jen babbles, clinging on to as much of Judy she can hold. “I’ve loved you before I knew you.”
Judy delicately wipes the tears from Jen’s face and smiles down at her sadly. “I want you to read the last one. I wrote it when we weren’t talking, but it’s about you.”
“Did you write about how awful I was to you?” Jen asks.
Judy rolls her eyes and huffs out a laugh. “Maybe. Just read it.”
Jen nods, and carefully unfolds the last thin piece of paper.
Dear baby,
It’s been months since I’ve written to you, but I met someone. Her name is Jen and she’s the woman I want to spend my life with. She doesn’t know that part yet. We’re not even on speaking terms at the moment, which is mostly my fault. Your mama has done some really bad things, that’s for sure. But you will always be the one thing I know that I’ve done right. The most perfect, innocent, beautiful thing. Jen is almost as perfect as you. She’s smart, funny, beautiful, and anything else that’s good. She has kids of her own- Charlie and Henry. I wish you could have met them, they’re wonderful. I just wanted you to know that her family makes me happy. I want to share that with you. Even though we’re not together, you’re still part of our family. I carry you with me everywhere. I miss you more than words can describe.
Love,
Mama
Jen can’t talk, she can’t think, she can’t move. All that she can do is kiss Judy with all the love she holds in her heart for her. All of the words she wishes she can string together coherently. But she just settles on holding her face in her hands and stroking her cheeks, letting her feel everything she wants to say through physical touch.
They stay like that for a while, laying on their sides, legs entangled and lips intertwined. Hands start to roam, but they always return. For some reason, they don’t want to go any further than kissing. This moment feels like a piece of art that isn’t finished yet, a work in progress. They’re still learning things about each other, happy and sad and surprising things. But they’re grateful for them, because whenever they learn something new, it adds to the art they’ve created. The love they’ve created.
They’re each other’s constants, and as long as the sun still rises and sets, they will continue to love harder, deeper, to the ends of the earth.
And that, Jen thinks, is pretty sweet.