When Memories Lie

aments, a task Mom had assigned me to keep me busy. I was Emily, late twenties, a city girl back in rural Vermont for the holid

ht my eye. It was me, a much younger me, maybe ten years old, skinny, with a gap-toothed smile. My arm was around a boy I didn't recognize.

remembered being ten, vaguely. That was around the time I had that awful fever, the one that nearly cooked my brain and l

m was basting the turkey, her f

his?" I held o

it, then back

t's just you in

sted. "The boy. It

e photo, sq

lse, Em. Just you. You were a

e, standing alone in the photo, my arm awkwardly half-raised as if around empty air

y fingers suddenly col

y. "You're tired from the

She was already focused on the turkey aga

the table, Dad walked in,

m. Then he turned to me. "So, when is Leo ge

k of plates in

ing room where she was arranging a centerpiece.

ded. "Always good to have L

alked in with a bottle of wine. "Yeah, Li

daughter, my six

out Leo. The Leo from the photo. The Leo who wasn't in the photo anymore. The