Island of Lost Girls - Jennifer McMahon [43]
I think theyre mostly in our bedroom closet, Justine said.
I might have moved them, Clem told her.
Ill go check, Rhonda offered.
Past the closed door to her old bedroom, now used only for storage and the rare overnight guest, and into Clem and Justines room, Rhonda made her way to the large closet and pulled back the folding slatted door. The left side was her fathers, the right, her mothers. Marriage is full of such cut-and-dry arrangements, Rhonda thought, then felt that small ache she sometimes got at the back of her skullthe one that told her she might be alone forever, not a fate that she chose but rather a fate that seemed to have been chosen for her. Then she thought of Warren, of holding hands in the cemetery. Dare she even hope that this might go somewhere? Did she really want it to?
She found the leaning stack of photo albums on the shelf above her fathers Civil War costumes, which were hung in plastic bags from the dry cleaners.
Found em! she hollered over her shoulder, not realizing Clem was right behind her. He helped her get them down. They were mostly bound in cracked and stained fake leather withFamily Photographs andMemories embossed in curly gold script.
What is it youre looking for? Clem asked as he helped her carry the albums down the hall and into the kitchen, where there was better light.
Pictures of Lizzy, mostly.
Clem smiled weakly. His already ashen face lost whatever hint of color it may have had. Her father, Rhonda thought, looked terribly old.
He was still tall and trim, his hair gone to a distinguished salt-and-pepper. But his breath had a whistling rasp to it and he coughed often. Smokers cough. The hollow hack of a man twenty years older.
Over the years, both Justine and Rhonda had begged him to give up cigarettes. He tried a few times, half-hearted attempts, really just to placate his wife and daughter. But he would end up sneaking cigarettes in the garage, at workmaking up lies for reasons to duck outside for a smoke. He took the trash out twice a day, went to the store for milk when there was still half a quart left. He was fooling no one. Just going through the motions.
Why the interest in Lizzy all of a sudden? he asked.
I had a dream about her. A friend suggested I do a drawing of it, she explained.
Clem nodded grimly.
Rhonda decided they should get it over with quickly, close the books back up and tuck them away in the closet, laying the past to rest again, all but forgotten, gathering dust on a shelf. She carried them out to the kitchen table, where her father settled into the chair next to her.
Did you ever reschedule that interview at the science center? he asked.
She shook her head.
Have you sent out any more résumés?
Uh, no, she admitted. This Ernie thing has been taking all my time.
But youre not exactly getting paid for it, he reminded her. And she knew he was right. What little money she had in savings was quickly dwindling, and those student loan bills would start arriving soon. But she couldnt think about that now. She put it out of her head and opened the first photo album.
The first photo album starred RhondaRhonda as a scrunchy-faced infant, Rhonda in Clems arms, Rhonda in her high chair, covered with grape jelly, grinning. Toward the end of the album, around the time the photos began to feature Rhonda on her own two feetRhonda picking a dandelion, Rhonda with arms outstretched to a blurry ClemDaniel, Aggie, Peter, and Lizzy started appearing in the pictures. There were photos of them all celebrating the Fourth of July, with Peter wearing a cardboard party hat, blowing out a cake with four candles. They were all there at Rhondas first and second birthdays, and there were two cakes, one for her, one for Lizzy. There were no pictures in the album of her parents before Rhonda came along. No photos of their quiet wedding performed by a justice of the peace. Of their honeymoon trip to Pennsylvania Dutch Country. It was like their real life started once the baby was born.
In later albums,