The rooftop key was missing from the hook. Greg hadn’t taken that key in years. He avoided the roof because he and Liv used to eat ice cream there.
At the top, the rooftop door was slightly open.
A man’s voice came through.
“You’re sure she has no idea?”
Greg laughed softly.
“Absolutely none.”
I looked through the opening.
Greg stood beneath the rooftop lights with another man, surrounded by bags of soil, wooden planters, tools, and a half-built bench.
Then the man turned.
“Ben?”
It was my son-in-law.
He froze.
“Simone, what are you doing here?”
I stepped onto the roof.
“Those were Liv’s.”
Ben looked down at the gardening gloves in his hands.
Greg had brought them up.
I looked around.
A wooden plaque leaned against the bench.
Liv.
Just her name.
“Who made that?”
Greg stepped closer.
“I did.”
“We wanted to surprise you.”
I stared at the planters, soil, lights, and tools.
“You built a memorial.”
“It’s supposed to be a garden,” Greg said.
“I told you I didn’t want one.”
“Simone, I miss her too.”
“I never said you didn’t.”
“Then why does every conversation about Liv end when you decide you’ve had enough?”
“You disappeared from our bed for nights instead of saying that to me.”
Greg lowered his voice.
“Because every time I brought up doing something for her, you shut it down.”
“And your answer was to do it behind my back?”
Nobody spoke.
I looked at Ben.
