What it says about your relationship when your partner sleeps with their back to you

There was something inside one of the roses. Tiny stitches, words maybe, tucked into the folds of the silk where you would have to lift the petal to see.

He was making something I didn’t have a name for yet.

I reached out, then stopped.

This was not mine to open.

I covered Eli with a blanket from his bed and clicked off the lamp.

Walking home across the dark yard, I understood.

He wasn’t making a dress.

He was making something I didn’t have a name for yet.

Prom night came faster than I was ready for. Eli stood on our porch in a thrifted suit, a garment bag draped over his arm like something holy.

He used Mason’s name for her.

Hazel opened her bedroom door to refuse him. Then she saw the gown.

Ivory silk. Voluminous roses blooming down the skirt like a garden in motion.

“Eli,” she whispered. “Where did you…”

“Just put it on, Hazelnut.”

He used Mason’s name for her. My knees almost buckled. I thought of Mason teaching him to drive stick in our driveway the summer before he died, ruffling his hair like a kid brother’s.

She shook her head, backing toward the bed. “I can’t. Eli, I can’t.”