The radio sat on a metal table. The covered window made the room feel closed and secretive. I went to our bedroom closet and pulled out a tiny Wi-Fi camera we once used as a baby monitor. My hands were shaking.
I knew that if I got caught, it would cause a deep rift in our family. I hid the camera high in the corner, half concealed behind storage bins. That night, after dinner, Jason asked Lizzie if it was garage time. She shouted yes. The door shut. The lock clicked. The radio turned on.
I opened the app. Jason rolled back the rug. Under it was a square outline in the concrete with a metal ring. He lifted it. A hidden door. Narrow stairs led down into darkness. I thought I might throw up. He told Lizzie to stay put and disappeared down the stairs.
He came back carrying a flat package wrapped in brown paper. He turned the radio up even louder and opened it. Inside were balls of yarn, knitting needles, and a small pink sweater. Across the front, stitched unevenly, were the words I have the best mom in the world. Lizzie beamed.
Jason showed her how to fix stitches. They laughed and talked for nearly an hour. I watched every garage time after that. At first to reassure myself. Then because I could not stop. Two weeks later, my birthday came.
Lizzie jumped on the bed yelling happy birthday. Jason followed with pancakes and coffee. After breakfast, Lizzie dragged in a big wrapped box. Inside were sweaters. Pink. Green. Blue. Gray. Mine said I have the best mom in the world. Jason’s said I have the best wife in the world.
I cried. Later, Jason told me his grandmother taught him to knit. He stopped when his father mocked him for it. He did not want Lizzie thinking some hobbies were off-limits.
That afternoon, while they were out, I went into the garage and removed the camera. I never told him. That night, we sat on the couch wearing our sweaters. Lizzie slept in my lap. Jason traced the words on my chest with his thumb and told me I was the best mom and wife.
A few weeks earlier, I had been braced to see something that would destroy my life. Instead, I saw proof that they loved me.
