I raised my eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t order anything.”
Kari wiped her hands on a towel. “It did. I sat it on the table.”
I followed her to the table, noticing a parcel sitting in the middle. “It doesn’t say who it is from,” she said, picking it up and flipping it over in her hands. It was larger than a shoebox and completely nondescript.
“Strange. I have no clue.” I took the package from Kari and opened it on the table.
“What the …” The box was full of the pictures I had left in the back of Decker’s closet. Image after image stared up at me, reminding of me of a different lifetime.
“Jada,” Kari began, her hand to her mouth, “did Decker send these?”
“I guess.” I dug through the box, feeling my heart ping as memories of a life I had wanted to leave behind rolled past me like a slideshow. I pulled out a photo of us at the Tempe Town Lake Marina when we were in college. Decker was smiling at me while I was smiling at the camera. When did that dynamic change? A blurry photo of our little wedding ceremony, taken by one of Decker’s friends, was a little torn on the edges. There was a picture of our first house in Boston. We had looked at it on a rainy summer day and fell in love with it immediately. I was so proud of that house.
Leafing through the pictures, I had to ask myself if these memories were even real.
Did the smile on his face mean he was happy in that moment with me? Or was he happy thinking about the girl he was going to take to Columbus for the weekend in the guise of “work”?
Everything was tainted, a cloud around each and every memory that the box held.
Kari reached in and pulled out a sheet of folded paper, handing it to me. “Has he called you lately?”
I shook my head.
“Why would he send these now? I don’t get it.”
I sighed. “It’s hard to tell. Maybe he’s been drinking lately and is reminiscing. Maybe he’s hungry and no one is home to make dinner. Heck if I know. He’s totally unpredictable.”
I straightened the paper and I held my breath as I began to read:
I released the breath I was holding slowly. This was typical Decker: almost sweet at the beginning and then his true colors show at the end, a confusing mess of sweet and sour. But I had let myself live in such a confused state for far too long, never able to just relax with Decker and know what the next day would bring. And I had a taste of that with Cane and it was something I didn’t want to live without.
“I don’t even know what to say to that,” Kari said, taking the note from my hand and wadding it into a ball. She turned to me, her face stern and concerned. “How does that make you feel?”
I sighed as I slumped into a chair. “Annoyed. Frustrated. Kind of sad, but not sad enough to do anything about it.”
Kari tossed the paper back into the box and walked to the stove, turning everything off, before returning to the table and sitting down with me. “Why does it make you sad?”
“What are you, a therapist?” I shook my head, not wanting to get to the bottom of anything, except maybe a wine glass.
She frowned. “No, but I am your sister. And it’s my job to help you figure things out. So spill.”
“I don’t know. I left those pictures because I wanted to forget those times existed.”
“Those times, the ones where you were happy, never happened,” she said, knocking her hand against the box. “You were happy under a false reality. If you had known for sure what all he was up to, would you have been happy?”
I shook my head, seeing her point.
“That’s like seeing half of a picture and thinking it’s pretty. But when you put the other half up there, it’s this awful mess. And it changes your entire perception on the picture as a whole. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I laughed at her analogy. “You’re nuts. But yeah, I get it.” We sat silently for a minute, Kari watching me as I looked at the box, expecting it to do something or some revelation to hit me. But nothing happened.
“Well, we have to do something with this,” I said, not taking my eyes off the cardboard box. “What do you think?”
“That is up to you.”
My pocket began vibrating and I pulled my phone from it, my breath hitching in my throat when I read the name on the screen. “It’s Decker,” I said, looking up at Kari. “How did he get my new number?”
“I have no idea, Jada. Maybe you shouldn’t answer it.” Kari’s eyes were wide and I could see the uneasiness she was feeling in them.
“No, I am not going to let him know he gets to me.” I straightened my shoulders, gathering my courage. “If he bothers me too much, I’ll get a restraining order or something.”
I answered the call, watching Kari watch me. “Hello?” I said, clearing my throat.