Howard spent his life alone. One day, there was a knock on his door, and when he opened it, he found Kira, his first love. She handed him an old, worn red box. “I was supposed to give you this years ago,” she said. Inside, there was a secret that would break his heart but also heal it.
I was slouched in my favorite chair, half-watching a rerun of an old sitcom, when there was a knock at the door.
I didn’t pay much attention. The neighborhood kids were always around, especially after I finished my bus ride home. I’d never had a family, so I enjoyed their company.
They crowded around my porch, eager to hear stories or play board games in the yard. These visits were the bright spots in my quiet life, filling the empty spaces between morning commutes and evening silences.
I got up from my chair, already smiling.
“I’m coming!” I called out, dragging my feet toward the door.
It might have been little Tommy wanting to show me his latest science project, or Sarah needing help with her math homework.
But when I opened the door, my entire world turned upside down.
A woman about my age stood there, holding a small, worn red box that looked as tired as we were. Her silver hair caught the afternoon light.
She seemed vaguely familiar, but I only recognized her when our eyes met. My heart stopped, started again, then stumbled as if it was learning to beat again.
“Kira?” The name felt strange on my tongue, like a language I had forgotten how to speak. “Is it really you?”
She tilted her head slightly and smiled. It wasn’t the bright, carefree smile I remembered from our youth, but it was my high school girlfriend, the first girl I ever loved. The first girl who also broke my heart.
“Hello, Howard.” Her voice was different, deeper with age, but unmistakably hers. “I finally found you after two years of searching.”
“You’re back?” I asked. The question came from my heart, not my head, as feelings I thought I’d buried years ago came rushing back. “But…”
It didn’t make sense. Not after all these years. Suddenly, I wasn’t 65 anymore. I was 17, and the memory of the night Kira broke my heart hit me like a physical blow.
48 years ago, the gymnasium sparkled with cheap prom decorations and even cheaper dreams. Paper streamers hung from the basketball hoops, and the disco ball scattered diamonds on Kira’s blue dress as we swayed on the dance floor.
Her head rested on my shoulder, her black hair flowing down her back. I gently twirled a loose strand between my fingers and smiled at her.
When I thought of the future, all I saw was Kira and me, living together, growing old together. I wanted to ask her to marry me, but I wasn’t quite brave enough yet.
“Howard?” she murmured against my collar.
“Hmm?”
“Can we step outside for a minute?” She looked up at me, and something in her eyes made me hesitate.
I nodded and led her through the crowd, our fingers intertwined. The spring air hit us like an alarm, refreshing after the stifling gym.
Kira led me to the old oak tree where we had shared our first kiss in freshman year.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, noticing that she was avoiding my gaze.
She took both my hands in hers. “I didn’t want to tell you earlier. I wanted this night to be perfect.”
“Tell me what?”
“We’re moving.” Her voice cracked. “To Germany. My dad’s company… they’re transferring him. We leave tomorrow.”
The world stopped spinning. “Tomorrow? But… what about graduation? And college? We were supposed to go to college together.”
“I know.” Tears slid down her cheeks, catching the moonlight. “I begged them to wait, just so I could have prom with you. But Dad has to be there Monday.”
All my dreams of a future together shattered like glass. But no, I wouldn’t let go of Kira so easily. We could still make it work.
“We can write… call. I’ll come see you when I get a job…”
Kira shook her head, wiping her eyes. “Howard, you know long-distance never works. You could meet someone at college, and I don’t want to hold you back.”
“Never!” I took her hands in mine. “You’re the love of my life, Kira. I’ll wait for you, as long as it takes. I… I want to marry you.”
She put her hands over her mouth and collapsed in that moment. I held her close, trying to memorize every detail of the moment as I whispered promises and begged her to keep in touch.
We stayed there under that oak tree until the last song faded, holding each other as if we could stop time if we held on long enough.
“I’ll write you,” she promised when we parted that night.
But I never heard from her again… until today.
“Howard?” Kira’s voice brought me back to the present.
“Why are you here, Kira? Why now?”
She handed me the small red box. “I was supposed to give this to you years ago, but my mom never sent it. Because of that, our lives changed forever. Please, open it now.”
I reached out and took the box.
With trembling fingers, I lifted the lid. Inside was a folded letter, yellowed with age. And beneath it – my heart stopped – a pregnancy test.
A positive pregnancy test.
“Kira…” My voice broke on her name.
Another wave of memories overwhelmed me: stolen kisses between classes, summer afternoons by the lake… we had given ourselves to each other, body and soul, in an abandoned cabin by the shore; a promise we thought would last forever.
“I found out after we moved,” she said, her words slipping out as though she had been holding them in for too long. “I gave the box to my mom and begged her to send it to you. When I didn’t get a response, I thought… I thought you didn’t want us.”
“But I never knew,” I whispered, my hands shaking as I held the test, this small piece of plastic that had changed everything. “I waited for a letter from you, but I never got anything.”
“Yes… that’s why I’m here now, Howard. The box was never sent. My mom kept it hidden. I only found it recently, going through her things in the attic.”
She wiped her eyes. “I raised our baby alone, Howard. With my parents’ help. All these years, I thought you had abandoned us.”
The room spun around me. A baby. We had a baby.
“Did you…” My voice faltered. I tried again. “Did you have the baby?”
She nodded, a smile piercing her tears. “A son. Our son.”
My chest was too tight to breathe. “Where is he?”
Kira glanced down the street. “He’s here. In the car. Do you want to meet him?”
I was already walking past her, my legs trembling with each step.
There was a blue sedan parked on the sidewalk nearby. Someone was inside. As I glanced at the car, the door opened, and a man in his forties stepped out.
He was the same age I was when I started driving the school bus. He turned to look at me, and I felt like I was staring at my reflection from 20 years ago.
We stared at each other across the yard, unmoving. Then he took a step forward, and another, until he stood at the bottom of my porch steps.
“Hey, Dad.”
The word broke something in my chest. Before I even knew what I was doing, I rushed down the steps and pulled him into my arms.
He returned the hug just as fiercely, and suddenly, I was crying tears of joy.
“My name’s Michael,” he said when we finally pulled apart, both of us wiping our eyes. “I’m a teacher, actually. English at the high school.”
“Michael,” I repeated, tasting the name of the son I should have known all along. “You’re a teacher?”
“We live in Portland now,” Kira called from the porch. “Michael and his wife just had their first baby. You’re a grandfather, Howard.” She paused. “I’m sorry it took so long to find you.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “I’m sorry I didn’t make more of an effort to find you. I should’ve known something was wrong. If only…”
Kira shook her head. “We can’t change the past, but we can make the best of the future. Why don’t you come stay with us in Portland? Get to know your family.”
I looked at my house and thought of the neighborhood kids, my familiar routine, the life I had built in my solitude.
Then I looked at my son, and I saw decades of missing memories reflected in his eyes.
“Yes,” I said. “I’d love that.”
Kira came down to join us, and for the first time since my childhood, I participated in a family embrace.
Standing between the woman I had never stopped loving and the son I had just met, I realized that even though the past had been stolen from us, love had found a way to bring us back together.
