Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

ANTON BERLIQUE

I put my hoodie on and hurried across the street. I had the duffel bag straps wound around my right hand and a present for the Richards under my left arm. A yellow light turned on above their front door in the detection of my presence. I slumped under the small shelter runoff of their roof, bathing in the light before I rang the doorbell.

Barry knocked his fist against the red oak door when a few seconds passed. A few seconds passed again, but fortunately, Irene answered.

"Oh hey - come in," she greeted. "Oh my word, you are drenched."

"Yeah, sorry. It's pouring." I followed her inside.

From the cold frosting wetness outside, the heating of Irene's house was a blessing to the skin. I removed my hoodie, taking in the Mediterranean vibe she had conjured, enjoying the many potted plants that reached upward with broad and spreading leaves.

She said, "I know right, the change in weather is very... sporadic. Sweetie, our guest is here! Jonah, Elane - come say hi to Mr Berlique. I'm sure it's very different in San Fran." I set my duffel bag next to my shoes. It made a small clink sound when dropped.

"Definitely, but sometimes too much sun is just too much sun," I said. Barry closed the front door behind us, nearly ripping apart these wonderful lilies in a vase that were next to the shoe rack. "I got you a gift." I handed her the picture frame from under my arm. It was a Japanese-style frame, in which it was stitched together by thin lengths of mauve nylon.

"No, you shouldn't have! It's perfect." A little boy, Jonah I suspected, appeared from behind her. His small bare feet chubbily flattened and slapped against the marble floor.

"Whath ish perfecth mummy?" He noticed me and looked up. "Oh hewwo Mr Berwique." A tall, slender girl approached us. Her top showed her midriff, stricken with defined ribs and a faint two-pack.

"Yeah what is it mum?"

"It's a picture frame and I know the perfect picture to store in it. Elane, can you get the lobster out of the oven? Jonah, show the man his seat." Irene and Elane left to do their tasks. Jonah looked around at his separating family, confused about what his mother just said.

He offered his tiny hand when he processed the words. I took it and he began to impatiently drag me towards the dinner table. Barry leaned down as we toddled along.

"Hey kid, when are we gonna meet your father?" I considered punching Barry in the face, but I knew it would only look like self-harm.

"Soon. You can meet my sister as well." I was beginning to think that the kid was a bit mentally underdeveloped and I needed to be careful that I didn't trigger something that I would regret.

"Kid, we've already met her!" I glanced over at Barry with a look of disdain. Jonah looked back at me with a dopey grin on his face.

"Aw-w-w," he stuttered, "yeah!" He giggled with such fun in his cheeks. The lobster smelled rich of seafood, promising a delightful taste. Elane plated it on a silver platter and placed it at the center of the table. Jonah led me over to a seat with a white clean plate in front of it. I sat down facing the open living room, right as Irene crossed the room with the picture frame in her hand.

She knocked on a door down the hallway to the right which was out of view, and asked Mr Richards to come out again. The dining room and kitchen composite was the room furthest away from the front door. There were two hallways on either side of the dining room. I believed there was only one floor.

Elane and Jonah sat across the table from me. Barry stood behind me like an old man at a geriatric hospital. Irene strode to the table and showed me the picture she had inserted into the frame.

"This was taken in front of our old house," she said. The five family members stood in an esprit manner that was jarringly familial. The happy neighbors of the street. For some reason, I felt none of that when looking at them now.

Then I realized what Jonah had meant by meeting his sister. There was another sister, younger than Elane and older than Jonah - the middle child it seemed. I pointed at the picture and the girl at the center of it, with the arms of her parents loosely wrapped around her shoulders.

"Where's she? I'd like to meet her." A boom of thunder and a flash of lightning later, Irene's constantly smiling face suddenly creased downwards into a horrified expression. She threw the picture frame against the ground, the glass shattering into shards. She repeatedly stomped on it so Barry had to hold her back.

Barry said, "Eas - easy - easy now." Jonah began to cry from the anger that filled the room, shrouded it with the unknown. Irene snapped back into the lovely housemother. She pulled her hand from her face.

"I'm okay now. Let me go please." Barry let Irene go. Elane hugged her little brother. Irene ran around the table to tend to her children. Jonah denied it, moving closer into his sister's chest.

I reached down and picked up the picture frame, shaking off pieces of glass. It still held its shape because the Japanese made it sturdy, or whoever synthesized this product made it sturdy.

The photograph, on the other hand, was crumpled and punctured through the middle. Her heel must have bored into the family photo.

"She's passed away, hasn't she?"

Before anyone could give a response, a door opened down the right hallway. It closed and large footsteps echoed sharply around the deserted corner, sounding overly loud in my ears, like the booming heartbeat of a condemned prisoner. His shadow cast over the floor, a black looming figure in the night-sky-speckled marble. I threw the picture into the bin.

"Already stirring trouble," Mr Richards asked, "are ya?"