Emory

I hear a beeping sound, faintly, in the background, and I know that it’s some kind of machine. I remember hearing them in the hospital when Lola was born. For a moment, I am back there, and I am wanting to hold the baby but also want to see her mother, and I’m told that she died in childbirth. Sadness washes over me as I wonder who will take care of this little girl. Then, I vow it will be me.

“Lola,” I mumble, but the voice I hear in response isn’t hers. It’s another familiar one, a voice that stirs all kinds of feelings within me as I...