Ten Snapshots
an excerpt

“I don’t know. I just don’t know. Sometimes really fucking shitty stuff happens to good people, like your dad.” He held her even tighter. “Do you want me to stay down here with you? Will that help?”
“I’m not sure,” she answered shakily. “I don’t want to be alone right now, but I feel like I need to work through this on my own.” She leaned into his chest. Her tears soaked though his shirt. “I think I want you to stay with me, just for a moment longer,” she whispered. “I think that’s what I need right now.” Her voice quavered and she gripped his shoulders tightly, digging her nails into them through his shirt.
“Okay,” he said, “I’ll stay here as long as you need me to.” He then surveyed the room, looking at the photographs scattered about the floor where they sat. “Would you like to move over to the couch so we don’t damage the pictures? And so you don’t need to look at them anymore for a little while.”
Instead of speaking, she nodded her head, and together they stood. Slowly, they moved over to the old green couch that had formerly resided in the Anderson’s family room. In its place upstairs was a new black leather sofa. Together they sat down, never letting go of the other. Charlie had become Wendy’s anchor for the time being, and Charlie was losing circulation to his arms because of it.
“Wends,” he said, “Could you loosen your hold on me? I can’t feel my hands anymore.”
“Sorry,” she said, a new set of sobs causing her voice to crack, and she loosened her grasp of his shoulders.
After a moment of silence Charlie asked gently, “What were you looking at that brought all these memories to surface? If you’re able to talk about it.”
“The picture with the flowers,” she whispered and she pointed to the print that lay barely two feet from where they sat.
“Oh,” he said, looking over at the picture. “I remember that day. It was awful. Well, at least it must have been awful for your parents, because we actually had a rather fun time that day. You taught me how to swing.”
“I remember,” she said, “You were really bad at it.”
“Hey, I was only six, give me a break.” At this small comment Wendy smiled, forgetting her sorrow, if only for a moment.
“Charlie,” she said, fighting back a fresh wave of tears, “I think I’m ready for you to go back upstairs now.”
He looked into her eyes and tilted his head like a dog. “Are you sure?” She nodded. “Okay, well, if you need me, just call, and I’ll be back down here as fast as I can.”
“I know.”
Charlie stood and crossed the basement floor, careful not to step on any of the photographs. Wendy sat paralyzed and watched him until he turned at the top of the staircase. Then she stood, moved over to the clear space on the floor, and picked up a new picture.