Page 100 of Jump on Three

“You made it for me. You picked the yarn, chose the pattern, and knitted it for me. It’s special, and I promise to take care of it.”

I kissed her belly button, then tipped my head back to look up at her. Her eyes were closed, features soft and relaxed. My chest became tight from looking at her.

“You’re welcome,” she said without opening her eyes. “I have one more thing.”

“No.” I pressed my face against her stomach. “No, I can’t handle another thing.”

She laughed, tugging my hair to pull me away from her. “I didn’t make it. It’s just something silly I ordered for you.”

My arms tightened around her hips. “Not letting you go.”

“You don’t have to. Open the top drawer of my nightstand. It’s in there.”

Reluctantly, I let go of her with one arm to lean over and reach in the drawer. There was a bookstore shipping envelope on top, so I grabbed it.

“What’s in here?”

“One guess.”

I shook it beside my ear. “Let me think…could it be a book?”

She snorted a little laugh. “Good job.”

I allowed her to sit in my lap so I could have both hands to open it. I couldn’t guess what book she could have gotten me, nor could I remember discussing one. Nevertheless, I was excited as hell to see what it was.

I ripped the package open and tipped it over, the book sliding out into my hands. It was…a children’s book? On the front was a picture of a duckling, and its belly had fluffy fur to pet.

Then I remembered. Evelyn had described this book when she’d first touched my tattoo. The objects felt how they were supposed to.

“Like my tattoo?” I asked.

She nodded, her cheeks glowing pink, a smile curving the corners of her pretty lips. “You remembered.”

“Took me a second, but yeah. I’m going to need you to read it to me.”

“It’s a picture book, Ivan. No words.”

I placed it in her hands. “Show it to me, then.”

We lay down while Evelyn held the book up and flipped the thick pages. She described the textures, and we touched them together. She told me when she was little, she’d had a book just like this in Greek. Her memories centered around her and Delilah looking through it together, not one of her parents. I swallowed down a pill of sadness for those little girls. As shitty as my father was, I had a good mother and older siblings who had rarely let my feet touch the ground the first few years of my life. I could go back and be welcomed into the fold. Evelyn and Delilah had no fold to go back to. Just each other.

She got to the sandpaper and visibly shrank away from it.

“I don’t like that one,” she stated.

I scratched it with my nail, which made her shudder.

“Blech. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t like the sound?” I asked.

“The sound, imagining what it feels like, I don’t even like to look at it. It’s supposed to be the beach, but I doubt many people would go to the beach if it actually felt like sandpaper.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Do you like the beach?” she asked.

“I do not have strong feelings about it.”

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