mattered. Not only that, she failed her sister. If Olivia had helped Lily when she needed it, they wouldn’t be in this mess. Lily’s bedroom wouldn’t be the empty space everyone tiptoed around. Josh would have grown up surrounded by family. Olivia has so many regrets.
The paper clip misses the notch inside the knob and Olivia mutters under her breath. Will Lily’s room smell the same? Warm, fresh, and feminine from her favorite perfume? Or will the air be stale like Olivia’s memories of Lily have become? They aren’t as clear anymore, and after talking with Ethan last night, she wonders if everything that occurred between her and Lily happened the way she believes.
The paper clip slips from the knob and scrapes her thumb. “Ow.” She’s horrible at breaking and entering. She sucks the tip, glancing back at Josh. He’s halfway down the hall looking at the framed photos on the wall. He makes a noise.
“What is it?” she asks, miffed. She thought he was right behind her.
He points at a photo and tries to speak, but the words stick to his tongue like wet sand on a damp bathing suit. He punches the air and roughly points at the photo, begging her to understand. Olivia motions with her hands for him to be quiet, glances back at her parents’ bedroom door, and makes her way over to him and studies the family portrait that has his attention. The photo was taken Olivia’s senior year in high school during Dwight’s third and last campaign. She was seventeen, Lucas fifteen, and Lily twelve and a half. Big brown eyes fill Lily’s face. Braces hug her teeth. A flat chest doesn’t deter from her budding beauty.
Josh squeezes his eyes shut and bangs his head with his fists. He’s literally trying to beat the words out.
Familiar with his signs of distress, Olivia pockets the mangled paper clip and gently touches his shoulder. “Look at me. Josh, hey,” she says, urging him to come with her outside before Charlotte hears them. The fresh air and openness will calm him down. They can return later.
His eyes snap open and he makes a grab for the photo. “Shh. Don’t do that,” Olivia loudly whispers. She slaps a hand to the frame so the photo remains mounted. “Take a breath, Josh. Relax and talk your way through this. What’s wrong with this picture? Are you looking for your mom? She’s right here, see?” She prompts him like she’d read about for people with aphasia. Spell out the words. Give them the chance to speak.
His face reddens and a word pops from his mouth like a truck backfiring. “Bad.”
“The photo or the people in it?” Olivia’s gaze rakes over the family portrait. Charlotte had wanted a magazine spread when SLO Life featured her as a top real estate broker in the county. California Living used the same photo when the publication featured a sneak peek inside their custom-built home during Dwight’s campaign. Taken in the backyard, Dwight and Lucas wore tuxedos. They looked dashing in black with their silk ties. Charlotte, along with Olivia and Lily, wore champagne gowns with all the sparkle and glitz found at an Oscars after-party. Their dresses shimmered in the golden hour sunlight. Wind cut across the yard at the perfect moment, ruffling Lucas’s hair and lifting her cinnamon locks and Lily’s long auburn tresses off their shoulders the moment the photographer snapped the shot. A glamorous pose that rivaled that of any family of status. The photographer won a coveted award for the photo. Dwight posted the image on the About Us page of his corporate website. The photo, along with the accompanying articles, cemented the Carsons as a family to watch, much to Charlotte’s delight. How I wish my daddy could see me now, Olivia recalls her mom remarking on more than one occasion about the grandfather Olivia had never met.
If people could see them now.
What a mess the Carsons have become.
“Bad.” Josh jabs at the glass. The photo swings on its hook.
“Careful.” Olivia fixes the frame. There’s a larger version of this photo above the living room fireplace, but Charlotte will still have a conniption if anything happens to this one. It’s her favorite of all the portraits in the hallway.
“Bad.” Josh knocks her shoulder, pushing her back.
“Hey.” She stumbles against the wall.
“Bad. Bad.” He yanks the photo off the wall, ripping out the nail along with. Drywall dust sprinkles to the floor like snow.