Angela lowered her arm and rubbed her burning eyes with her free hand. Her body ached with weariness. It wasn't even late afternoon yet, but she only wanted sleep. Eric's mental issues could wait. The police must have seen these things already, looked through them, ensured nothing in them could help them find Eric. If he'd had some mental lapse that started with that patient in the hospital, who knew where he was? Joanne already didn't like Angela; without any other family, maybe Angela could piss off the social worker enough to judge her an unfit parent. It wouldn't be hard. Angela lifted the papers and let them slide into the box.
Of course a picture, sliding out f the rest of the pages, fell on top. Of course it was that picture. Sunset, lake, silhouette. Angela handled it like a dead thing. Two people fishing in a boat. Before there were kids, there had been fishing together. She remembered Eric's laughter as he recounted this trip. They both caught blackfish; Eric had laughed about his own dismay at their size, even though they couldn't keep the fish, anyway. Eric had recalled how she hadn't been squeamish when she held one of the fish in her palm and demonstrated on her wrist how big it might get if it lived a few more years. Eric held her hand afterward as they walked along the lakeshore. They talked about moving, which they didn't do, and kids, which they had.
Angela grimaced at the photo. She turned it over and stared at Eric's handwriting on the back: AC EL * AK 5 JANUARY 1996. Angela flipped it back the other way and frowned. She picked up the papers to continue reading.
Of course a picture, sliding out f the rest of the pages, fell on top. Of course it was that picture. Sunset, lake, silhouette. Angela handled it like a dead thing. Two people fishing in a boat. Before there were kids, there had been fishing together. She remembered Eric's laughter as he recounted this trip. They both caught blackfish; Eric had laughed about his own dismay at their size, even though they couldn't keep the fish, anyway. Eric had recalled how she hadn't been squeamish when she held one of the fish in her palm and demonstrated on her wrist how big it might get if it lived a few more years. Eric held her hand afterward as they walked along the lakeshore. They talked about moving, which they didn't do, and kids, which they had.
Who did take the picture? This is still something I'm not quite sure on.
ReplyDeleteUnless... it's not actually a picture of the two of them...?