It was fear dressed as control.
“Two days’ worth. The closet, a storage cabinet, and some boxes in the attic.”
Barbara looked at me carefully.
“Because I owe you more than an apology. And because Anna is right. We should sort what can be donated, but we should not empty the room completely until David sees it.”
Barbara pressed her lips together.
Then she whispered, “It’s been so hard going back into that room.”
“You won’t open it alone this time.”
That afternoon, Patterson joined us.
Emily’s room was not preserved like a museum, as I had imagined.
Dust covered the dresser, the curtains had faded, and boxes filled the closet and lined one wall.
Barbara sat on the bed while we worked.
Donation, trash, things Barbara would keep, and things we would let David decide if he wanted to have them or not.
The last group became the largest.
At first, Barbara resisted.
“He does not need all this.”
Anna held up a school trophy.
“That is for him to decide.”
“He may hate me for keeping it.”
“He may hate you more for donating or throwing it away.”
Barbara flinched, but she nodded.
As the hours passed, she began telling stories.
“Emily built a volcano for the science fair,” she said, holding a photograph. “Baking soda reached the ceiling.”
“Was she good at science?” I asked.
“She was great at it and very confident with her experiments.”
We kept several outfits, photographs, a silver necklace, and a soccer medal.
The rest went to the charity with care.
By Friday evening, the room was cleaner but not erased.
