My eyebrows scrunch as her words about the home gym and the eradication of the den catch up to me. “She got rid of the den?”
“Yeah, Christmas was …”
I look back at Kendall as she works to find a word to describe the situation, and tears cloud her bright blue eyes. “It didn’t go so well. We stayed at Mindi and Kyle’s.”
I know things must have gone really bad if they had elected to not stay, but I don’t want to pry so I turn my attention to the photo album cradled in her arms.
Kendall turns the first page that has an inscription to Ace from Mindi, and there staring back at me is a photo of a small, wrinkly, red-skinned baby drowning in pink and lying in the arms of David, who’s beaming at the camera, looking like he’s just won the lottery.
There’s picture after picture of a mess of blond hair and smiles. Her big brown eyes stare at me through the pages of her childhood.
“She used to love Donald Duck. When we went to Disneyland, I remember all I wanted to do was find all of the princesses. Not Ace. She wanted the duck.” Kendall laughs, pointing to a young, smiling Ace, posing beside Donald Duck.
“Who’s that?” I ask, noticing a boy reoccurring in several pictures.
“That’s Kyle!” Kendall says with a quiet chuckle.
I know that he’s been in the family a long time, but seeing him looking so young really puts it into perspective.
Kendall smiles as she comments on more pictures, tying them to stories of their childhood. I listen and smile, picturing the stories she draws for me that I’ve never heard.
The last several pages are filled with gaps and entire pages of missing pictures even though a caption is written next to each blank spot, indicating they were once filled. Kendall flips through them so quickly, I’m not able to read them.
Her stories stop and she holds the last several pages tightly between her fingers, her eyes trained on the album. “I don’t want this to upset you,” she says softly. Her eyes slowly travel to mine. “I’m sure that this is hard. I know it was for her.” Tears pool in her eyes and I have to grit my teeth and fist my hands to not reach out and comfort her. I’m afraid if I do, we’ll both see how weak I really am right now.
“What?”
Kendall releases a breath and lets one of the pages fall. I look down to see pictures of Ace and me.
I stare at a picture of her sitting on my lap. She’s smiling at the camera, and I’m smiling at her. Our hands are tangled together on her lap.
I look to the next image and find pictures from Thanksgiving the year before. There’s a slew of images of us covered in flour from when we had decorated sugar cookies and of Ace linked to my side. They continue to images of us standing in front of our houses glittering with Christmas lights. I can’t believe how many pictures I’m in of their recorded time line, and it causes me to wonder if that’s the reason the book didn’t fit in her suitcase.
“What happened to these ones?” I ask, flipping to a series of empty slots.
“She took some out. She wanted to bring them with her,” Kendall’s words are slow.
“Who was in them?”
I watch as she carefully creates her response, her eyes still looking slightly apprehensive. “I don’t think there were too many pictures you weren’t in last year.”
My head spins, wondering why? Why would she take pictures of us, of me, back to Delaware?
“Hey.” Jameson’s voice has my head jerking up in surprise. He’s holding several bags of groceries in his arms, while looking between Kendall, the photo album, and me with his chin dropped and eyes slightly slit with unease. “Kendall, Stacy is here. She said she has some clothes to return?”
Kendall pushes the blanket off her lap and walks to Jameson where she presses a chaste kiss on his cheek and then heads out the front door.
“Hey, man,” Jameson says, lowering the groceries to the floor and shoving his hands into his pockets as his eyes, still slightly narrowed, scan over me.
“She took pictures of me.” The words come out before I can even think about saying them.
Jameson’s expression remains cautious.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You haven’t really been in the mood to discuss any of this.” Jameson waves a hand at the photo album. “I … don’t know what to say exactly …”
“Did she ask about me?”
“She asked if you were happy.”
I stare at him, imploring him to tell me more.
“I didn’t realize …” Jameson stops and lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand over his unruly blond hair.
“What didn’t you realize?”
“She’s not doing … you wouldn’t …” Jameson grasps for words as his eyes travel to the ceiling. “This has affected her a lot more than I think we all realized.”
“Meaning?”
“Here,” Jameson says. He retrieves his phone from his pocket and presses a few buttons before making his way over to where I’m sitting, and extends it to me.
The image makes my breath catch in my throat, and my hands to freeze midair. It’s Ace. It’s irrefutable that it’s her, but it’s difficult to accept that it is. She’s so thin that her big brown eyes take up even more real estate on her face than normal. Her cheeks are sunken, and the base of her neck exposes every tendon and muscle. It’s hard to look away from her eyes, though. They look so empty, so dull compared to the bright dancing gleam they always held.
“Is she okay?” The words are painful as they leave my mouth.
“I don’t know,” Jameson replies, and I can tell by the way his posture immediately stiffens that he hadn’t meant to admit this out lout. “I mean, I think, I think she’s getting better. We talked a lot one night, and I saw the old her come back at times, but … I’m worried.” Jameson rubs his palms down the front of his jeans and sits beside me.
“Muriel really managed to fuck things up. The entire trip was so … different. It was nothing like last year,” Jameson says, shaking his head.
“What did she do?”
“Yeah, she got engaged.”
My jaw drops, as my eyes widen with shock.
“Yeah, that was my reaction too,” Jameson says, nodding. “We were all shocked. I think we were also too caught off guard to actually say anything. Everyone but Ace … she was pissed. The conversion didn’t go well to say the least.”
I run my fingers over my forehead. I know that Ace’s and Muriel’s relationship has been stretched thin over the past six months. I can’t imagine what this will do.
“What in the hell’s wrong with her?” My words come out loud and harsh. I feel so angry. So fucking angry, that it takes all of my focus not to start destroying things. She’s successfully working to ruin my life! I feel a sense of loathing for the woman I had once cared for and respected. I want to shake her until she realizes what she’s doing to herself. To me.
A loud banging on the door has Landon and me looking at each other with apprehension.
“Did you …” he begins.
“No, did you—”
He shakes his head before I can finish asking if he slept with a girl that already has a boyfriend. We had encountered that scenario up in Alaska when he’d taken a girl home, only to have her boyfriend show up at our door a few hours later with the sole intent of killing Landon.
I pull open the door with Landon beside me. My fists are curled and my feet are loose, ready to move.
Wes stands before us, looking more pissed than I’ve seen him in sometime, maybe ever. He pelts me with a handful of DVDs.
“You’re ditching classes to hang out with some easy fuck?” he yells, removing the question as he continues. “Is she worth throwing all of this away for?” He stabs the cover of the remaining DVD in his hand and my eyes briefly dart down to see Erin. Her breasts are exposed as she leans across a man with another naked chick on the cover of a porno.