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Because it’s moving day.
And moving day means Emily leaves her place, I leave mine, and we move into a place… together.
This doesn’t feel real. Just a few months back, I was living out of a duffel bag, with no one around to care for except whatever companions I’d find in a bar that night and kick out the next morning; just couple months back, I’d lost most of the last of my family, with the only survivor being a baby that I had no idea how to take care of and who left me feeling more disarmed and incapable than any adversary I’ve ever come up against; just a week after that, I bump into some young, wide-eyed, kind-hearted woman who turns me from thinking about everything I’ve lost and all I want to strip away from those who’ve wronged me, to the things I want to add to my life, to thinking about things like family and a home.
I nearly lost her.
But now, as I watch her carry a box labeled ‘Textbooks — one of five’ in neat, cursive handwriting, while I carry a duffel in one hand and Charlie in the other, there’s a swelling in my chest that overwhelms any sense of loss.
“What are you staring at? Aren’t you going to help?” She says as she places her box of books on the floor.
“You. I’m looking at you.”
“This is going to take all day if you just keep standing there.”
“That’s fine by me,” I say. “I could soak in this view for a damn long time.”
“A view of packed boxes, a disorganized apartment, and your sweaty girlfriend?”
“Looks like heaven to me.”
She laughs like music and rolls her eyes. “And to me, it looks like you need to help out, or else you’re going to have one tired girlfriend and you’ll have to pay for another day on the moving van.” When her words don’t spur me to do anything but stare some more, she sighs, smiles, and says, “If you really start working, I’ll wear that thing you like.”
My eyes widen. I’d thought she’d packed it away, deep in the mess of boxes in the back of the van.
“You will?”
“I know exactly where it is, and it’s closer than you think. So the second you start seriously moving some boxes, I’ll put it on.”
I set Charlie down on the floor next to the living room sofa and set myself to work. After two loads of boxes, I come back into the apartment to find her pulling a ‘Property of’ cut over her shoulders. She smiles at me as I stop and stare.
“I’m still getting used to it, and you know I can’t wear it when I go into work this afternoon, but I am starting to like it. How do I look?”
I can barely breathe as I take her in. The black tank top clings tightly to her, highlighting the curves that first caught my eye and the strength beneath that I admire.
“You look incredible,” I say. “You always do.”
Emily’s smile widens, and for a moment, the boxes and chaos disappear. There’s just her, standing there with that blend of vulnerability and confidence that’s so uniquely hers.
“Good,” she says, stepping close enough for me to feel the heat of her skin, smell the faint scent of lavender soap she loves. She reaches up and plants a quick, soft kiss on my lips. “Because we still have work to do.”
With that, she turns on her heel and heads back toward the van. I exhale slowly, shaking my head at how easily she manages to ground me while simultaneously driving me mad.
As I hoist another box onto my shoulder and carry it inside, I think about all the roads it took to get here — the mistakes, the minor victories, the moments where everything seemed lost only to be found again in a different light.
Charlie laughs as I come back into the living room toting more boxes. His eyes are wide with curiosity, taking in the sight of his new home. My heart clenches at how small he looks in this vast space filled with possibilities we’re just beginning to explore together.
My life is coming together, but it’s not there yet.
There’s something more I need to do.
“Hey little man,” I say, picking him back up and holding him at arm’s length. Looking at him, I see my brother, but some of myself, too. And as time’s gone on, I’ve only come to see more and more of myself in him. “How would you like to take a little trip today?”
“Hunter?” Emily says as she comes back into the living room carrying more boxes and sees me looking deep at Charlie. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, but I can’t be moving boxes right now. There’s something more important I have to do. We — Charlie and I — have to do.”
“More important than moving into our new apartment?”
