“Everything in that bag belongs to me!”
I nodded.
“Fine. We’ll look together.”
I took the bag from Joel.
Then I carefully emptied its contents onto the sidewalk.
Pieces of cardboard fell out.
Fabric
scraps scattered across the pavement.
Then a man’s shirt slipped from the pile.
Something caught in its sleeve struck the concrete with a small metallic sound.
I looked down.
A wristwatch.
Silver bracelet.
Blue face.
My entire body went still.
I knew that watch.
I knew every detail of it.
I bent down and picked it up.
For a moment, I couldn’t bring myself to turn it over.
Then I did.
There, engraved on the back, were five familiar words.
“Always your home. S.”
My breath caught.
It was Nathan’s watch.
The anniversary present I’d spent half a year saving to buy.
The same watch he’d worn proudly before abandoning our family.
And somehow, it had ended up among the belongings my neighbor was throwing away.
I looked at Ivy.
Her expression changed the moment she realized what I was holding.
“Ivy, why do you have my husband’s watch?”
Her
face lost all its color.
“Give me that.”
I tightened my grip.
“Where did you get it?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
I stared at her.
“You just accused my eleven-year-old son of stealing from you. I think that makes it very much my concern.”
She reached forward and snatched the watch from my hand.
Then she hurriedly gathered the scattered items and stuffed them back into the yellow bag.
“I don’t owe you any explanation.”
“Ivy, wait!”
But she was already walking toward her house.
Within seconds, her front door slammed shut.
Joel stood beside me looking frightened.
“Mom, am I in trouble?”
I turned toward him.
“No, sweetheart.”
I pulled him into a hug.
He hesitated.
“Was that Dad’s watch?”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
“Why did Mrs. Ivy have it?”
I stared at the closed door three houses away.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to find out.”
That evening, Joel sat at our kitchen table cutting cardboard into small shapes.
He was working on another project.
Normally, he’d talk nonstop about what he was building.
But that night, he was unusually quiet.
Finally, he looked up.
“Mom, do you think Mrs. Ivy knows where Dad is?”
I put down the dish towel I was holding.
