Brian stood next to the justice of the peace. He had his hands clasped in front of him, with a nervous smile. He looked like there were about a thousand places he would rather be, not because he didn’t want to marry her, but because he wasn’t comfortable being the center of attention. He would much rather be fishing or repairing a computer or watching a wrestling show.

They made it through their vows and everyone clapped when they kissed. Then the whole group went to Red Lobster for the celebration dinner. Melissa knew she would have laughed had she heard of someone else doing that on their wedding day. But this was her day, and for some reason she decided not to let it bother her.

There was no honeymoon because they couldn’t afford it. Brian said they could save up for a trip on their first anniversary but she wondered if that was a promise or simply an idea to consider.

Back in the apartment, Melissa smoothed out the dress and hung it in the closet. She couldn’t help thinking of Kelly and the fun they would have had. Kelly’s mother said the dress was Melissa’s now and that she should save it for her own daughter to wear.

Was that simply a wish too? Would she have more children? Would she ever have a daughter?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the dress illumined by the naked bulb in the closet with Brian already snoring behind her, she whispered the name.

“David.”

He was four months old now. She had read in a book what happens at each stage of development, and she imagined David grabbing his feet and putting his toes in his mouth. But that was all she could do—imagine. There were no pictures, nothing to go on but her own thoughts of what his life might be like.

It was funny how life went on. After Kelly died, she’d thought of her and even picked up the phone once or twice wanting to call her before she remembered what had happened. And life went on without her son, too.

She had gotten a full-time job in an office in town, and she and Brian were talking about buying a small house. She filled her days with obligations, the inevitable to-do list of life. But at night, when her head hit the pillow, she felt an ache inside. And when she closed her eyes, she saw him in her arms, his perfect little face, how alert he was, his eyes open, even less than a day old. In those moments she could only see what she didn’t have, her empty arms.

She went to sleep with the ache and woke up each morning with the same. And in a strange way, the ache became a friend, a constant companion she could always count on being there.