Page 82 of When Fate Breaks
Blake
Irun my finger down the glass encasing the yellowing photograph. Though the background where he stands is grainy and in the shadows, my Dad always knew how to make his presence known. I glance from his face down to the baby in his arms. The tiny little human that would grow up to me. If only he had any idea when this photo was taken that he’d never get to see that.
Sorrow and anger simultaneously swirl painfully in my chest as I try and fail to make myself put down the frame for the third time.Why am I back here again?
Oh, right. Because Evangeline is running late.
Shocker.
She texted me late last night to let me know she’d like to leave for the trade show by 8:00 a.m. this morning. I was up far before that working in the greenhouse and waiting for her, however, 8:00 turned into 8:10, and then at 8:20 I found myself knocking on her bedroom door to make sure she was alive. I heard a muffled “Coming!” before Evangeline tore the door open just enough that I could see her flushed face. She had bobby pins shoved between her teeth and her hair halfway braided to the side and clutched in one fist. I caught sight of her bare back, the reflection in her standing mirror leaning against the wall behind her showing me that she was only wearing jeans and a bra. I quickly forced my gaze away, swallowing hard, and registering the sound of the shower running, realizing that’s where Remy must be.
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, pulling the bobby pins from her mouth. “I’ll be out in just a few.”
“Hey, I’m just along for the ride,” I replied. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall in the toilet or anything.”
“Shut up,” she laughed, and I swear it sounded like music to my ears. “It’s only a half hour away and the doors don’t even open until 9:00 anyways, so I gave us a little wiggle room by estimating we’d leave at 8:00.”
“Us?” I asked, raising my brows.
“Us. Me.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Is there a difference really?”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to think too hard about that question, knowing she didn’t mean anything by it. When I was silent for a second too long, Evangeline’s face fell just a little bit, her eyes blinking hard and fast like they always do when I know she’s thinking a million miles an hour. Some masochistic part of me hoped she was thinking exactly what I was thinking. Her lips parted like she was going to say something, but I cut her off before she got the chance, not wanting that conversation to go any further when there was a door between us and we were not truly alone.
“I’ll just wait in the greenhouse,” I said, nodding down the hallway.
“Okay,” she replied. “I’ll be there in just a few.”
I had every intention of going to the greenhouse when she closed the door, but, for whatever reason, my feet drug me straight across the hallway and back to this damn picture frame. You’d think I’ve never seen a picture of my own father before.
Well, if I’m being honest, I haven’t. Not in the last seven years since I’ve had my own house. I avoid looking at the ones Mom has out when I go to visit and I sure as hell don’t have any on display at my place. I just can’t. For so many reasons. This one’s different, however. I think it’s because the photo isn’t directly attached to a day or memory of my life that I was consciously there for. This one I can detach myself from. This one I can just take for what it is. My Dad. Young, happy, smiling.
Alive.
I hear a rustling sound and startle. I lean back enough to see Remy making his way out of their bedroom. “Well bye, babe. Have a good day,” I faintly hear Evangeline’s voice say. I’m pretty sure my eye twitches when the man all but ignores her, barely waving his hand once over his head. He pauses briefly to straighten his suit jacket, and his eyes snap straight to me. A scowl flickers across his face for just a second before he recovers, his lips spreading into a smile.
“Bye, babe,” he says, entirely louder than necessary, spinning around and reaching his arms through the still parted doorway, grabbing Evangeline’s face and bringing her lips to his. I feel my blood go ice cold, a bitter taste flooding my mouth. He holds her to him for several excruciatingly long seconds, her eyes shut and shoulders somewhat rigid, unless I’m imagining it. “Love you,” he says, finally pulling away, planting a kiss on her forehead, and closing the door in her face before she has a chance to become aware of my presence just across the hall.
It’s not until I register the sound of the metal straining against my hands that I realize I’ve been gripping the frame for dear life. I set it straight back on the shelf in front of me, not breaking eye contact with Remy the entire time I do so, only tearing my gaze away as I pass him in the hallway on my way out.
“Good morning,” he calls to me smugly from over my shoulder.
“Hey, man,” I respond neutrally, not turning back as I make my way out of the house, gritting my teeth the whole way.
Dick.
I can still hear him following behind me when I make it to the greenhouse. I walk straight over to the potting table I’m currently staining, bending down and grabbing my brush from the can to resume without looking his way, not willing to give him the satisfaction of thinking I care about his presence.
“Place is lookin’ great, bud,” Remy says, obvious sarcasm in his tone.
Bud.I swear to God if he calls me that one more time–
I shake my head once, telling myself silently to get a grip. “Thanks, man,” I mutter, still refusing to look at him.
“Reminds me a ton of this house I made out of popsicle sticks in my second grade art class.”
My teeth clench onto the inside of my cheek. “That so?” I ask coolly.
“Mhm. If I remember correctly, I won the class competition. Actually, I definitely won. Yes, of course I did,” he confirms, taking a step in from the doorway. “Ialwayswin, you know?”
