Lymber craft's Arc

Chapter 38 of 70

Monday morning Lymber's phone buzzed on the counter while she was pouring cereal for Violetta. It was Polly. She said, Check the town group. Lymber wiped her hands and opened it. The wedding photos were there. Someone had taken them from a guest's page and posted them with fresh captions. One zoomed in on her waist under the beaded gown. One counted the months between Jett's birth and the ceremony. One asked why Polly was the only family in the pictures. Lymber scrolled to the bottom. There were forty-three comments already. She set the phone face down and finished the cereal. Violetta banged her spoon and asked for the puppy. Lymber let the puppy up on the chair beside her. Paul came in with Jett on his shoulder and saw her face. He asked what. She turned the phone over and slid it to him. He read for a minute. He said, You want me to post something. She said no. She took the phone back and looked at the photos again. Her waist in the gown. Polly beside her at the courthouse. Jett in the crook of Paul's arm at the yard. She thought about the countdowns and the interviews and the deleted accounts. She thought about how many times she had gotten in front of a story and how many hours that had cost her. The comments would keep coming this week and next week and after that. The house was hers. The children were hers. The town would talk about all of it regardless. She put the phone in the drawer under the dish towels. Paul watched her do it. He asked if she was okay. She said yes. She meant it. She told him she was done answering. She told him the pictures were true and the captions did not matter. Paul nodded once and did not push. He carried Jett to the living room and put on the television for Violetta. Lymber called Polly back. She said, I'm not posting. Polly was quiet for a second. Then she said, Good. Lymber said she was going to her hair appointment at eleven and would pick up milk on the way home. Polly said she would come by after. Lymber hung up and looked around the kitchen. Three beds in this house. Two children. One husband. She did not need the phone in her hand to keep any of it. At the salon the stylist tipped her chair back and washed the roots out. Lymber closed her eyes.The stylist asked if she wanted the same gold. Lymber said yes. She walked out at one with her hair bright again and drove home with the milk on the passenger seat.