Page 88 of Lotus

Great. I probably just manifested that horror into fruition, given the week I’ve been having.

I snuggle Alexis closer to my waist as I toss an empty candy wrapper across the room with my opposite hand, letting out a self-deprecating sigh.

To make matters worse, Clementine has hardly spoken to me since her massive overreaction the previous weekend. Her responses to my text messages are brief and detached. She even responded with a‘K’when I informed her that I bought Poppy tickets forDisney on Ice. My head hurts and my heart hurts.

And now my stomach hurts.

Groaning, I toss off the covers and pull myself out of bed, deciding that a shower would serve me well. Of course, this is when the doorbell rings. I groan again, giving my messy bun a tug and adjusting my glasses, hoping they hide the dark circles under my eyes.

Pulling open the door, I’m greeted by Lorna Gibson.

Best. Week. Ever.

“Charming fashion choice, dear,” she says, only mildly scathing, her see-through eyes casing me from head to toe. “At least you’re properly covered for once.”

One eyebrow arches with disdain. I can’t even pretend to entertain her insults today. “Can I help you? I’m in the middle of something.”

Berry lipstick smudges just above her mouth when Lorna purses her thin lips together. “I see that I’ve interrupted something riveting,” she snickers, ignoring my eye roll. “Anyway, I was informed that you shoveled my driveway this past week and I’ve come to issue my thanks.”

“Oh…” I’m taken aback by the offering of gratitude, considering I didn’t realize she even knew, and well, it’sLorna Gibson. “You’re welcome.”

“Oliver told me in case you were wondering. His good morals and manners seem to be rubbing off on you.” She adds as an afterthought, “Praise the Lord.”

A huff. “Well, it’s not a problem. I ran out of sinning to do that day and got bored. I mean, there’s only a limited amount of unprotected sex and satanic rituals a girl can partake in before she needs to switch it up, you know?”

“Ever the comedian,” Lorna says snidely, eyes still gliding over me with distaste. She’s about to step away when she pauses, an unfamiliar look washing over her. Clearing her throat, she reaches into the front pocket of her blouse and pulls out a handful of photographs. “One more thing. I found these at the bottom of my jewelry box and thought you might have more use for them. Edgar enjoyed taking photos of you kids on his old film camera… looking at these Polaroids brought back some very special memories.”

At first, I want to ask her whatelsehe was taking pictures of on his old film camera, but there’s a softness poking through her harsh exterior, and I’m not sure how to respond to it. I scuff my toes against the welcome mat, then reach out to take the photographs from her hand. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

Another pause before she departs. “You know, Charlene was always quite fond of you,” Lorna tells me through a squint, a trace of candor seeping into her voice. “I think she’d be happy to know you found your way back to each other.”

I’m unable to hold back the emotion-laced gasp that bursts through my lips.

“Good day, child.”

Lorna hobbles away with her cane, not looking back, leaving me with tear stains and more memories than I can handle.

Evening turns to dusk, and I managed to shower and change before finding my way to the couch with a glass of wine and pictures of a past life. I’ve skimmed through the photographs countless times since Lorna dropped them off, unable to shake the melancholy feeling that has settled into my bones. Staring at a photo of Oliver and me, I hold my grief in the back of my throat like a burning ball ofcould have beens. I recall this photo being taken clear as day.

Oliver adorns his usual pair of overalls, a plaid shirt residing beneath the dirt-stained denim. His arm is around my shoulders, pulling me close, while I clutch a teddy bear in my arms. He’s kissing my cheek and I’m resisting, but only partly, because I’m also drowning in joy and laughter, evident by the huge, toothy grin spread across my sunburned face.

When I zone in on that raggedy brown bear, a memory crosses my mind.

“I have a secret, but I’m scared to tell you.”

“You can tell it to my teddy bear. She’s very good at keeping secrets.”

“Okay. You promise?”

“Promise. Pinky-swear, even.”

With our pinky fingers linked together, Oliver leans into the well-loved bear, whispering something against her fuzzy ear…

Gnashing my teeth together, I make a mental note to ask Oliver if he remembers what that secret was. I had been curious at the time, but that curiosity vanished into thin air the moment Oliver Lynch did.

Flipping through the pictures again, I smile at the group photo of the four of us kids with our parents. Mom has her arm around Charlene, while Charlene has her hands on Gabe’s shoulders, his goofy grin a testament to the man he would become.

Oliver and I are in the middle, wrapped in a giant hug, smiling brighter than the stars, and Clementine is on the far end with Travis standing behind her and Dad off to the side with a beer.

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