Millie helped me pick the flowers: roses from my grandmother’s garden. Gran never even goes out there anymore, so she’ll never notice. Cloves we got at the health food store but the mustard seeds we had to go to the Chinese grocery. The shells I had from the beach trip when I was twelve, and I got a few of her long, flaxen hairs from her brush when I slept over Friday night.
We dressed up, lit candles. It had to be perfect. We held hands and recited the words together. I told Millie it was all for a boy.