Point of Retreat

meant for Lake and I. It was intended to be a Christmas gift for us to open together, but this is the first chance we’ve had to be alone.
     
    “Come to my bedroom.” I release my hold and grab her hand. She follows behind me until we get to my room where the box Julia gave me is sitting on the bed. Lake walks over to it and runs her hand across the wrapping paper. She fingers the red velvet bow and sighs.
     
    “Is it really from her?” she asks quietly.
     
    I sit on the bed and motion for her to sit with me. We pull our legs up and sit with the gift between us. There's a card taped to the top of it with our names on it; along with clear instructions not to read the card until after we open the gift.
     
    “Will, why didn’t you tell me there was something else? Is this the last one?” I can see the tears forming in her eyes. She always tries so hard to conceal them. I don’t know why she hates it so much when she cries. I run my finger across her cheek and wipe away a tear.
     
    “Last one, I swear,” I say. “She wanted us to open it together.”
     
    She straightens up and does her best to regain her composure. “Do you want to do the honors, or should I?” she asks.
     
    “That’s a dumb question,” I say.
     
    “There’s no such thing as a dumb question,” she says. “You should know that, Mr. Cooper .” She leans forward and kisses me, then pulls back and starts to loosen the edge of the package. I watch as she tears it open, revealing a cardboard box wrapped in duct tape.
     
    “My god, there has to be six layers of duct tape on here,” she says sarcastically. “Kind of like your car.” She looks up and gives me a sly grin.
     
    “Funny,” I say.
     
    I stroke her knee and watch her poke through the tape with her thumbnail. Just when she breaks through the final edge, she pauses.
     
    “Thank you for doing this for her,” she says. “For keeping the gift.” She looks back down at it and holds it without opening it. “Do you know what it is?” she asks.
     
    “No clue. I’m hoping it’s not a puppy-it’s been under my bed for four months.”
     
    She laughs. “I’m nervous,” she says. “I really don’t want to cry again.” She hesitates before she finally opens the top of the box and folds the flaps back. She pulls the contents out of the box as I pull the cardboard away from it. She tears the tissue away and reveals a clear glass vase. Inside the vase, it’s full to the brim with geometrical stars in a variety of colors. It looks like origami. Hundreds of thumbnail sized 3-D paper stars.
     
    “What is it?” I ask her.
     
    “I don’t know, but it’s beautiful,” she says. We continue to stare at it, trying to make sense of the gift and the contents inside of it. She opens the card and looks at it. “I can’t read it, Will. You’ll have to read it.” She places it into my hands.
     
    I open it and read it aloud.
     
     
     
    Will and Lake,
     
    Love is the most beautiful thing in the world. Unfortunately, it’s also one of the hardest things in the world to hold on to, and one of the easiest things to throw away.
     
    Neither of you has a mother or a father to go to for relationship advice anymore. Neither of you has anyone to go to for a shoulder to cry on when things get tough, and they will get tough. Neither of you has someone to go to when you just want to share the funny, or the happy, or the heartache. You are both at a disadvantage when it comes to this aspect of love. You both only have each other, and because of this, you will have to work harder at building a strong foundation for your future together. You are not only each other’s love; you are also one another’s sole confidant.
     
    I hand wrote some things onto strips of paper and folded them into stars. It might be an inspirational quote, an inspiring lyric, or just some downright good parental advice. I don’t want you to open one and read it until you truly feel you need it. If you have a bad day, if the two of you fight, or if you just need something to lift your spirits…that’s what these are for. You can open one together; you can open one alone. I just want there to be something both of you can go to, if and when you ever need it.
     
    Will…thank you. Thank you for coming into our lives. So much of the pain and worry I’ve been feeling has been alleviated by the mere fact that I know my daughter is loved by you.
     
    Lake takes my hand when I come to a pause. I wasn’t