Post #7 of the “She told him that she loved him” series. How many others were there? Who cares.
Felicia nearly walked right into the attic stairs, pulled down from the trap door in the third floor hall ceiling. She put the bin down. Hair fell into her eyes. She poofed it back. “Hello up there,” she called.
“Hi. Oh, sorry about the stairs.”
“Finding anything we can give to Goodwill?”
“A few things. I’m putting another bin together.”
Felicia checked the hall. She couldn’t walk through it with her bin with the stairs in the way, and the air became suffocating in the attic if you left the trap door closed too long. She sighed. Might as well see what Liam was so fascinated over.
On second thought, the attic could be stifling even with the door open. She coughed. Next to the stairs, Liam had piled four boxes and a trunk. He shuffled over to her. With their peaked roof, it was only high enough for someone to stand right in the middle of the attic.
“It’s mostly high school stuff. Records, comic books, board games, and shirts.”
“Oh my God. Look at all the fluorescents.”
“I looked damned good in it at the time.”
“I’ll bet you did, honey.” A fifth box was still in the corner. The lid was open, but he’d left it there. “What’s that one?”
Liam smiled a half smile. “I was going to tell you about that one. I opened it by mistake.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
Liam dragged it over. “It’s all your lost loves.”
Felicia put her hand over her face. That’s what she actually called it, too. A picture of a crying doll was taped to the inside of the lid, with the words “lost loves” written in red pen. She saw what happened. She’d put the box all the way in the back so that no one would see it, and wrapped it in twine. After 20 years, two moves, and who knew how many times rearranging the attic, the twine had frayed and fallen away.
“Oh. Look at this. I should just throw it all away.”
“It’s up to you. Your memories are important to you.”
“Teen Beat magazines and love letters to boys who never knew me?”
“I saw some from when you were in college.”
“Yeah, that’s true too. I stopped collecting after I graduated.” Felicia flipped through them. Tom. Kenny. David. Her heart skipped a beat on some of them. Sometimes you found the right person at the wrong time. She’d had to find herself first. “Do guys keep things like this?”
“Not a box of pictures. I made a list once.”
“How long was it?”
“Not enough for a box. But they were good memories, too.”
Felicia kissed him. “You know what they say. You’re not the first man I loved. Just my last.”
He caressed her hand, still resting on the box. “I know.”