Page 63 of Make a Scene

Gwen laughed as she pointed to an increasingly degenerating photo of their father with a huge afro and an aggressively popped collar.

As his sister kept flipping the pages, Duncan enjoyed seeing pictures he’d never known existed.

There was one where his dad was definitely smoking a blunt and another one where he lay on the hood of a car. Some of the pictures featured their mother. In one she was eating ice cream and sporting a ’fro similar to his father’s in the previous image.

“This is when we went to Niagara in seventy-nine,” his dad said, pointing at the picture of them in front of the waterfalls. “We’d recently started working at a school together.”

Another photo showed them on a veranda somewhere drinking cola in glass bottles.

“You guys look so happy,” Gwen said, running her fingers over the photos trapped under the thin plastic.

His father huffed, but it was true. They did look happy.

The next page held a photograph that had been carelessly sealed under the film. It was a family portrait they’d taken back when Duncan was a preteen.

“God, I remember this day,” Gwen said.

He did too. They’d gone to the large Walmart on the other side of town to take them. The trip unfolded as usual with his parents arguing over something.

Duncan shook his head. “Felt bad for that photographer.”

However, none of the drama of that day was evident in the glossy final product. It looked like a stock image you’d find on a brochure in a doctor’s office.

Seeing these photos was a good reminder not to get fooled by the veneer of relationships. He needed that dose of cynicism especially since he’d been creating a fantasy with Retta that he found increasingly alluring.

The sound of descending footsteps pulled Duncan out of his thoughts, and the three of them turned toward the staircase.

“I didn’t realize how much stuff we’d accumulated,” his mother said, laughing lightly.

There wasn’t a spot on the floor that wasn’t covered with stuff.

“We’ll have to pick this up next weekend,” Gwen said.

“I actually won’t be able to help out next weekend,” Duncan said, avoiding eye contact by flipping through a decade-old magazine.

“Oh?” his mom asked.

“I’m out of town,” he replied vaguely.

“For what?” his father asked as he added a desk lamp to the “keep” stack.

“A wedding.”

Everyone turned to him.

“A wedding?” his mother asked. “Whose wedding?”

“A friend’s cousin’s wedding.”

He’d let them draw their own conclusions.

“Is the friend that woman I met a few weeks ago? What’s her name?” his sister said, pausing for a moment before snapping her fingers. “Retta.”

Dammit.

“Yeah, it’s her cousin’s wedding.”

“Retta?” his dad asked.