Finally he moved back and I let him go. I told him I’d be back in a second and left to grab the box of tissues from the bathroom. When I returned, I tugged a few out and handed them to him. “Feel better?”

He took a deep breath and dabbed at his face before he nodded. Then he lifted his damp and red-rimmed eyes to mine and nodded at me. I knew he was thanking me.

Before it got weird, I reached for my quilling tool. “Want to start on your tree?”

He handed me the marker and then pointed it at his cast.

Oh. I looked down at it again. What would I write? “I want to figure out the perfect thing,” I said. “Let me think on it.”

He lifted an eyebrow but nodded.

We got to work.

We started with the tree trunk. I suggested we frame it with the dark brown strips. Then we could fill it in with the pieces we’d cut out of the programs with his parents’ names on them, alternated with more brown and beige so it would look like ridges in the bark. He liked that idea, but I wanted to get it just right, so I arranged everything first, pinning each piece into place before we got out the glue.

He handed me the strips and I placed them carefully as I chattered on about stuff. Lots of stuff. Paper quilling, my favorite types of paper, movies, archery, school—whatever I happened to think of at each moment.

He didn’t seem to mind my talking. I even asked him once if he did and he smiled and shook his head. It was a lot of work to think of topics, but the more I talked, the easier it got. I just rambled about whatever.

And he listened. Not just pretended to listen, but really listened.

When we finished the trunk and I was about to get the glue, I noticed the leftover strips from the program. Many were from the edges and were mostly blank. I could use them for other things. But some were ones with his name on them.

“We should put these in,” I said, pointing at the tree trunk. “So your name is in here too.”

He shook his head fervently.

“Why not? They’re your parents. You should be in the memorial picture.”

He reached for his phone, but his fingers were still for a long moment as he stared at the screen. I was about to prod him when he started typing.

Finally he turned it toward me.

I am the tree. They are inside me.

My breath caught. I looked up at him, and his eyes were so serious. Like, he seemed really mature and wise. Even as he stared into my eyes, he pointed at his chest. Right at his heart.

“They are inside you,” I said. “Forever.”

He nodded.

“That’s…” I had to take a breath before continuing. “That’s really awesome and beautiful. I bet they’re out there somewhere and are so proud of you.”