Page 15 of The Interview
“Ah, Portugal. I think we may have something from that trip,” Daniel says as Marley and I frown in confusion.
When we sat down this morning, I noticed what looked like a huge flatscreen monitor or television set up behind the cameras. I thought it might be a teleprompter or something like that. But Daniel nods at one of his people, who has a laptop set on a high-top table. She taps at the keyboard, and the screen lights up, and there, right before my eyes, appears a picture I’ve never seen before. Jimmie and I are sitting on the edge of the pool at our parents’ Portuguese villa. In front of us, standing in the water, are Marley and Sean, their arms raised, bent at the elbows, their fifteen-year-old, barely-there boy muscles flexed in a strong man pose.
We all have wet hair, and the water droplets covering our bodies glisten in the sun.
We’re so young.
So naive.
We thought we knew it all.
We thought we’d live forever.
“Oh, my God,” I sob as my hand flies up to cover my mouth. “Where did you get that?”
“Our researchers have been asking around your friends and family for old pictures we could use. Jimmie mentioned it to her mum, who remembered finding an old Kodak pocket instamatic when they moved house a couple of years ago. It was in a box with a few rolls of film. Jimmie got them developed.”
“There are more?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Dan replies, his eyes slicing to Marley, who’s sitting silently beside me.
I’m too scared to look his way, so instead, I reach for his hand. When we touch, his grip is so tight it’s painful.
“Look at us,” I whisper into the quiet room.
“Fuck,” I hear my brother say shakily.
I finally look his way, only to see him looking over his shoulder towards my husband and daughters. Kiki has both hands covering her face. Lu is openly crying. Cam’s jaw is set tightly, his posture rigid, arms folded across his chest as he stares at me.
The guilt I’ve carried for what feels like a lifetime but usually manage to keep buried explodes with such force, its impact is visceral. My body jerks as I take in the look on my husband’s handsome face. It’s not hurt or anger I see, but concern, and I don’t think I’ve ever loved him more.
His eyes don’t leave mine as we share a silent conversation.
“You okay?”
“I’m so sorry for crying. I love you. You okay?”
“As long as you’re coping, I can handle it. If you’re not, then let’s shut this shit down.”
I nod and give him a small, shaky smile before mouthing, “I love the fuck out of you.”
He silently laughs before giving me one of his customary headshakes, right before Marley interrupts our moment.
“Love you, big man. And, girls, you know I’d lay down my life for you both, but fuck me, I really miss my mate.”
Cam takes in Marley as he rubs his palm over his stubbled jaw, and I watch as he digs his fingers into his muscles in an attempt to loosen the tension he’s feeling there. “Totally understandable, mate. It’s all good.”
I want to go to him. Let him hold me. Kiss my girls. Breathe them all in. Instead, I lean into my brother as he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. I raise my hand to find his and hold on.
“Ready for more?” Dan asks.
“No,” we say in unison. “Yeah,” we add, again, both at the same time. We laugh. The sound is nervous and brittle. Mystomach is in knots as I try to both prepare myself and process whatever I may be about to see.
The hand not holding my big brother’s for support covers my mouth, because I don’t trust myself not to sob out loud.
The next picture to appear is of Marley and Sean. They’re standing next to the pool table at a bar we used to go to near our villa. Sean’s wearing a Kappa vest, very short football shorts, and flip flops. His skin’s tanned, hair long and curling at the ends—exactly the way I used to love it—and I’m flooded with the memories of how it felt when I ran my fingers through it, and how he always smelt of Kouros aftershave back then.
Marley’s shirtless and wearing the tightest, shortest pair of cut-off denim shorts that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. He has a pool cue in his hand, a cocky smile on his face, and a chunky, but very fake gold necklace, which I remember turned his neck green after a few days.
