Page 55 - The Houseguest

“RAVENGE”
The reality of my new reality sent a sudden shock through my body. Casting aside my alcohol induced agony long enough to stand, I walked into the bedroom and opened the bottom drawer of my dresser to retrieve a photo that had long since been filed “away.” It was a picture, a moment frozen in time of what felt now like another lifetime. There stood Karina, Katie and I together in a photo taken in front of the beach house one summer. Karina had hired a photographer to snap some family photos. There had been about 75 proofs resulting from which to choose, mostly of the three of us staged in standard family poses donning deliberate smiles formed on cue: “Three. Two. One. SAY CHEESE!”
Karina had poured through the proofs, but stopped instantly on this one in particular. This picture, the one that stood out to her as frameworthy for her nightstand, was taken when Katie had broken rank to suddenly jump onto my back, swing her arms around my neck and chant her familiar: “I love, love, love my daddy.” We all burst into unexpected joyful laughter, the kind you can literally feel simply glancing at the photo, and that’s when the photographer clicked. I had kept this particular copy on my desk at the office until after the accident when I’d thrown it into a trash can during a fit of fury, only to quietly retrieve it hours later.
This framed photo would serve an important purpose now. It would be the reminder, the pump that would continue to supply fuel to the burning fire that was my rage. It will be the justification for everything that was about to come, for everything I would be doing. Intense
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The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life