by Shae Mallak
"It's us!" Ava declared. "I told you he was family," she giggled. Addis shouted something at her down the hall and she ran after him, leaving me to stare at the photo.
It'd been taken years ago when Mom was still alive and healthy. The twins were four or five years old and still had their chubby cherub cheeks and identical haircuts and I was nearing the end of my high school years and thought I was all that and a bag of chips.
I remembered the day we took that photo, too. Mom was complaining about having to wrangle the twins and couldn't get her hair done, Dad was working late in the office again, and I was spending an eternity in the bathroom trying to get my makeup just right. Ironically, I didn't even wear makeup anymore.
We were barely able to get it together for even one good picture; there was always someone blinking—Dad—or looking away—the twins—or frowning at the camera—me. Mom was at the end of her rope and finally declared we were going to do one last picture and that was it. She told the man no matter what it looked like, we were going to order the biggest size they offered, which at the time was an 11 x 17. We didn't even get a chance to see what the photo looked like before Mom and Dad hauled us out of the studio and home again.
The picture was admittedly not your typical family photo. Mom was the only one smiling, holding Ava firmly in her lap like nothing was wrong. Ava, however, was reaching over to pull on Addis' hair, who was screaming bloody murder. Dad was leaning over to console Addis and managed to show off his bald spot instead of his pearly whites. I was, of course, in the back with my arms crossed over my chest and rolling my eyes like I was above it all. Little did I know only two years later Mom would be gone, Dad would be inconsolable, and I would be trying to keep our little family glued together somehow.
Of all the pictures of us to hang in his hallway, Jonah had to choose the infamous one. Mom always hated it but pretended not to, framing it and proudly displaying it in the living room. Dad secretly loved it—he thought it was hilarious—but was always sure to keep his opinion to himself when Mom was around.
For some time I was always embarrassed by it. I thought it was tacky to keep something like that out of pure stubbornness. But after Mom's death, I couldn't stop staring at it. It was such a stereotypical shot of our family. We were all chaos and there was Mom in the middle, the rock, smiling through it all. It was the truest, most accurate picture of our family the photographer could have captured and after Mom died, it became my favorite.
I had no idea how Jonah managed to get a copy, but it felt right that he would have it on display in his own home too, like he was just as proud of that photo as he was of all the other priceless artwork and expensive gadgets that filled his house.
It wasn't the only personal photo on display either, and it took me a few minutes to shake off my own memories to notice them. There were two other framed photos in the hallway and I studied both of them closely.
The first, hanging in the middle, was of a little boy and a man I assumed to be his father—there was a strong family resemblance. They were standing next to creek and the boy was proudly holding up a fish he caught. His dad was grinning from ear to ear and giving a thumbs-up to the camera.
The final shot was a simple portrait photo of a woman. She was young and beautiful with dark hair and wide, sparkling eyes. Based on the age of the photograph, I guessed it was Jonah's mom. He has her eyes, I thought to myself.
Jonah had felt the pain of losing his parents too. He knew exactly what Ava, Addis, and I were going through. I remembered the brief insight into his past from the office—he lost his mom at a young age and hated his stepmother. I briefly wondered if I would've preferred an evil stepmother over an addicted father, but it was like comparing apples to oranges. All a matter of opinion and perspective, impossible to determine.
"Evie!" Addis shouted from down the hall at me. "Are you coming?" he whined. I reluctantly turned away from Jonah's captivating mother and once again followed my ears to find Greg and the twins.
The rooftop pool was as fancy as the rest of Jonah’s house. The pool itself seemed to be built with the intention of lap swimming—did Jonah even like swimming? He must since he had a pool….Dragons swim. That was a strange concept for me.
Addis didn’t waste any time stripping down to his trunks and jumping in cannonball style. Ava was slower, carefully taking off her dress and folding it neatly on a chair before going to sit on the edge and dangling her feet in the water.
“Slow poke!” Addis taunted, splashing his sister. She glared at him and kicked water back at him, which only made him laugh harder. Ava continued to seethe in anger, but didn’t move off the edge.
Greg took the argument as his cue and pulled off his t-shirt to climb in after Addis. I wasn’t sure why, but I was surprised by the bear tattoo on his chest. I don’t know why I thought maybe only dragons had tattoos. Greg didn’t seem to notice my scrutiny as he threw a few diving toys into the pool and jumped in—careful not to splash Ava—and started a diving game with Addis to distract him from torturing his sister.
I slipped off my shoes and sat down next to Ava, dangling my feet in the water as well. My shorts were immediately damp and I regretted not taking them off first. Oh well. I would just have a damp butt the rest of the day.
“Hey, Ava,” I said, dragging my feet slowly through the water. I lifted one foot out to let the water drip off and create little ripples before dropping it back down into the cool water. Ava didn’t say anything, still pouting after Addis’ splashes.
It was a warm day but the twins were already slathered in sunscreen—Greg’s doing—so I wasn’t worried about them. Jonah might rebuke me for being silly enough to go without sunscreen in direct sunlight, but besides getting a little pink for a day or two, I never seemed to really burn. I never understood it but in hindsight, knowing what I knew, it made sense. Dragon breeder. Doesn’t burn. I wondered if the same concept worked for skin cancer.
“How are you doing, Ava?” I prompted after a few more minutes of silence. The boys were at the other end acting like boys, not near enough to hear our conversation.
“I’m fine,” she said too quickly.
“No, you’re not,” I retorted. “I’m not okay and I’m over twice your age.”
“So? Maybe I’m just better at dealing with death than you,” she griped. I sighed. Defensive wasn’t a good sign.
“Ava, it’s okay to not be okay,” I offered gently.
I was hoping she would open up a little more to me about everything. She knew Dad was going to die before it happened—she had to be feeling something! Knowing it would happen and not being able to do anything to stop it… it would destroy me.
Maybe she was better at dealing with it than me. After all, she went through the same thing with Mom, didn’t she? But it was different somehow with Mom. She was sick; we all knew it was coming. But Dad…it was sudden. Too sudden. Did she know he was going to be murdered, too? Or burned? Did she know anything about who?
I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere with those sort of questions right then. The pool idea was supposed to distract us from our current problems. Not dive deeper into them.
“Well, if you ever want to talk, you know I’m here,” I told her. “You know I love you, Ava. I just want to help.”
“I know,” she replied, then slid off the edge into the water and swam over to join Addis and Greg at the other end.
I thought about joining them but was reluctant for some reason. I felt more like I would be an imposition, butting in on their fun time. It was ridiculous but I still felt like the odd man out with them. I was only gone three days, but even with our unexpected returns to town the last two nights, I still felt isolated from my brother and sister. I didn’t like the feeling, especially considering our current circumstances. Shouldn’t we be getting closer rather than further apart? Or maybe it was just me pulling away.
I stood and went to lounge in one of the poolside chairs, finally opening my phone to check the messages Tren
t sent me. I could tell Jonah was upset by them, but it really wasn’t a big deal. Trent was just a friend—he was being protective and jealous for no reason. So then why did I feel so guilty when I typed back a response?
- I saw the news! R u ok?? Trent sent first, then a few hours later he followed with another. -I know u prob. have a lot going on n all, but I m worried about u. r u safe? Then, of course, the last message that Jonah saw, simply saying -I miss u.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as I counted, reaching twelve before I ran out of air and had to inhale again. I was at war with myself, two completely different lives battling it out for my attention and affection. But I didn’t feel anything for Trent like I did for Jonah. Why can’t I have both? Why did my friendship with Trent have to affect my relationship—or whatever label we were putting on it—with Jonah?
-im safe, I typed back. -a lot going on.
I frowned at the screen, debating whether to reveal the truth to Trent about my dad. It wasn't publicized yet that it was my dad who they found on the mountain, let alone that they were considering foul play. I wanted to confide in someone on the outside, so to speak. Trent was my lifeline to normalcy… it made sense for me to tell him. He knew our family personally. It was just a friend talking to a friend. So why did I feel like I was breaking a rule or something?
-Dad died, I wrote simply. Everything lately in my life was so complex, it was kind of nice to keep something simple for once. What I didn’t expect was for my phone to start ringing a few seconds later, Trent’s ID picture smiling up at me. I glanced at the threesome at the other end of the pool, laughing and having a blast. It’s what I was supposed to be doing. Jonah told me to relax and try to have fun. Instead, I was slipping down the stairs back into the coolness of the house and hitting answer.
“Hey,” I said a little reluctantly.
“Evie!” Trent cried. “Oh my god—I’m so sorry! What happened?” he asked all at once. I wandered aimlessly through Jonah’s house, not really sure where I was going and not really caring as I told Trent the short version. The non-paranormal version. The non-foul-play version. Dad was caught in the fire. They identified his body. We’re still tying up loose ends. No, I didn’t know when we were going to have the funeral. Yes, the twins are okay. They’re having a blast, actually, in Jonah’s pool.
“Jonah’s pool?” Trent asked curiously.
“Yeah,” I replied, glancing around me at the hallway I was wandering down. I was pretty sure I was on the second floor—which was confirmed when I rounded the corner and found myself staring out at his backyard through a wall of glass. Jonah and glass walls…. “He let us come over to relax while the police—" Oops. I wasn’t going to tell him about that part. “While he finishes up some stuff at my house,” I corrected, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue.
“Police?” Well, damn my big mouth. “Why are the police involved?” he asked.
“Just with the fire, and Jonah’s cottage getting destroyed,” I hedged. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Why was I lying to Trent? I trusted him. But Jonah’s face when he saw that text message… it made me hesitant to reveal too much. Maybe I already told him too much. “It’s nothing,” I finished awkwardly. I could tell Trent wasn’t buying it.
“Evie, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again.
“I am fine,” I answered. I sounded a little too much like Ava when I said it—defensive and unconvincing. “We’re just all still processing Dad’s death,” I added as my lame excuse.
“Well, you know if you ever need to talk…” The conversation was becoming creepily similar to the one with Ava not five minutes prior. Was Trent mothering me? I almost laughed out loud at the thought. “Since you’re in town again,” he continued, “We should meet for dinner or something,” he suggested. “Go to that Chinese place we love.” I couldn’t stop my smile or the growl of my stomach. I kept forgetting to eat. Too much happening to eat, I guess.
“Maybe,” I answered vaguely. “When things slow down a little maybe.”
“Okay,” he replied, but I could hear the disappointment in his voice with an edge of something else, something more…determined. Was that the right word? “I’ll see you in the morning, then, when I pick up the twins.”
“Tomorrow is a school day, huh," I realized. Trent laughed at me. The weekend was so packed full of everything that I forgot normal life still resumed. School, work, bills—the rest of the world still went on with their lives. I felt like the outsider again, watching everyone else but not feeling quite fully attached to reality.
“And a workday,” he reminded. “It’ll be good to see you again, if only to piss off Jessica,” he chuckled. This made me laugh heartily. Good ol’ Jessica. Always good for a laugh.
"I don't know," I hesitated. "I mean, I don't think we actually need...you," I said awkwardly. "I mean, the carpool," I corrected myself quickly. "I mean, it's just..." I sighed. "I appreciate everything you've done for us, Trent," I said. "I really do, and as soon as things slow down again, I'll let you know. The twins love carpooling with you."
"But you don't?" he asked, the hurt evident in his voice.
"No—I mean, yes—" I groaned in frustration. "Of course I enjoy your company, Trent," I said. "You know I do. It's just, right now, everything is...confusing."
"You mean with Jonah?" he guessed. I silently cursed his intuitiveness.
"With everything," I replied, dancing around the truth. "I'm not even sure if the twins will be going to school in the morning. They might need—we all might need a few days to adjust."
"So it's safe to say Jonah's going to remain part of your life," he stated. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I hated how he sounded so hurt saying it and I hated that I had to hurt him more with my answer.
"Yes," I told him. "For the foreseeable future, Jonah will be part of our lives."
"I'll see you later, then, Evie," Trent said stiffly, then the line went dead. Man, those two really hated each other! So much for trying to have both. Even if Jonah did come around, clearly Trent wasn't happy about Jonah's involvement in our lives. Why couldn't it just be easy? Stupid men and their stupid testosterone.
I kept wandering around Jonah's house for a while after I got off the phone with Trent and eventually found the office—well, an office. For all I knew there were two or three offices in Jonah's house. Although for what purpose I couldn't fathom. As he said, there was a paper shredder under the desk next to an empty trash can.
I pulled the crumpled paper out of my pocket and smoothed it out on the empty desktop. His handwriting was messy and rushed but not illegible. I was used to decoding Addis and Ava's scribbles and in comparison Jonah's handwriting was beautiful calligraphy. I chuckled to myself before feeding the paper to the shredder as ordered.
As the motor hummed and the paper crinkled through the machine, my mind wandered, reliving the look on Jonah's face before I left along with the awful coldness I felt in that moment. I'd been rejected plenty of times before in my life; I wasn't a stranger to the feeling. It was never a particularly pleasant emotion to experience, no matter the circumstances, but for some reason, it hurt so much more coming from Jonah.
I guess I just expected...I assumed he would never stop fighting for me. Had I been so caught up in fighting with Jonah that I pushed him away completely? It's what I wanted from the beginning, wasn't it? To be Jonah-free. To return to normal life. But there was no going back anymore. He said it himself—you can't go back. You can only try and move forward. Which begged the question, what exactly did the future look like for Jonah and me?
"Can't focus on that right now," I reprimanded myself. "Other fish to fry—like finding out what happened to Dad or the mysterious green dragon thing," I muttered. "Can't forget that fiery little tidbit of my life. Jonah is really the least of my problems." Nevertheless, he kept fighting for attention in my thoughts, mostly how I wanted to march over to him and make him hash out the confusing, messed up thing between us once and for all. "
and say what?" I sighed.
I tried to push it from my mind and fix my attention on something else. It wasn't an easy feat to accomplish being in Jonah's house...in his office... in his desk chair. I marveled for a second at the luxurious comfort of his leather chair; he would need a comfortable chair, after all, for the long hours he spent working. His desk was bare except for a slender file and a landline—seriously, he still had a landline, plugged into the wall with a curling cord hooked to the receiver. I laughed aloud at it, kind of loving the splash of retro technology in a house of so much modernity.
My eyes fell back to the manila file sitting in the center of the desk. I shouldn't snoop, I told myself. I really shouldn't...but the temptation was strong. Too strong. Slowly, I reached out and slid the folder closer to me. I stared at the plain cover, deliberating, then noticed Jonah's handwriting on the tab and twisted it around to read it better. Aberdeen.
"Excuse me, what?" I exclaimed, my voice echoing in the room. "Jonah Carson, you stalker," I scoffed, flipping over the cover. The first thing I saw was a photo of me—not a flattering one, either—frowning at something just out of the shot. I was wearing my cleaning clothes, the company t-shirt and a pair of stained sweats and a knot of hair on the top of my head. I sneered at myself and flipped past several others, taken at various candid, unflattering moments. I stopped short when I found a photo of my father.