Day 56
Asher
We take this picture every year on the last day of vacation, after our cars are loaded and we’re ready to drive back home.
Each family out on the end of the dock. And if someone manages to remember a tripod, both families out on the dock.
And then it’s always me and Sidney at the end of the dock.
The kids. If photos had names, like famous paintings, that’s what our parents would call this one.
Usually, we do something funny. Sidney pretends to strangle me, or we pose as if she’s about to push me off of the dock.
But I know we never actually hated each other before, because those pictures were fun, and now I can’t even figure out how to stand next to her.
So I walk down the dock and stand behind her.
She’s still wearing the necklace—the one I bought her two years ago—the one I probably never should have given to her.
Maybe she was right all along, maybe we were doomed from the start, and I ruined everything trying to take us to that place.
All the summers to come. But something about seeing that silver chain around her neck just makes me feel worse.
That she wants the necklace, but not me.
It seems unfair, cruel, and I understand why people want engagement rings back.
Sure, it’s her necklace, but why does she even want it, when she doesn’t want me?
I should just stand here and smile, but it seems more appropriate to do something antagonistic.
Something that’s a throwback to the pictures of summers past. But I don’t mock-strangle her, or push her into the lake; I do something that will actually annoy her.
I wrap my arms around her shoulders and I smile.
Now our photo is just like the others … a total lie.