The Status of All Things Read Online Free PDF

you see the one of her and herhusband jumping in the air on the beach? It was the perfect day. The perfect shot. The perfect everything ,” I say, thinking back to the way my stomach tightened as I scrolled through her album, hoping I’d be able to capture the same sentiment at my own nuptials.
    “It was her wedding day. She’s not going to share the picture of her brother spilling red wine down the back of her dress or post how irate she probably was when her husband actually smashed the cake in her face. She’s going to make sure she looks picture-perfect.”
    “I guess I just wanted to have that too. Now I never will.”
    Jules puts her arm around me. “You will. Just not today.”
    “Will I? Or do I just not deserve it?” I shake my head. “Because I look at people like Callie. And it’s not just her wedding photos—it’s everything. Her model-like kids, her exotic vacations—did you see the safari she went on? She kissed a giraffe! And I guess I want to know why some people have lives like that, while others”—I tap myself on the chest—“are sitting in their bridal suite with a gown they’ll never wear on a wedding day they’ll never have.”
    Jules considers this for a moment before responding. “I don’t think anyone knows why things work out the way they do, Kate. But one thing I do know for sure is that people’s lives are not always as perfect as the filtered photos or edited statuses they post on Facebook.”
    “True,” I concede, pulling the sheets tight around my body and curling up into the fetal position. “But wouldn’t it be nice if they were?”

CHAPTER THREE

    Who says you can’t drink seven mai tais on a five-hour flight? #passedoutatthirtythousandfeet
    I turn the key and push my front door open, watching it swing wide and settle against the wall. The entryway looks just like it did when we left—Max’s navy-blue windbreaker is hanging on a hook, right next to my black hoodie. We’d worn them to walk down to the wine store the night before we’d flown to Maui, deciding to splurge on a good bottle of red to celebrate. Why couldn’t he have voiced his doubts then, as we sat facing each other on the couch while we sipped the Pinot Noir we’d purchased, speculating about which family member would make the biggest ass of himself at the reception?
    As I step through the doorway, my heart folds inside my chest. This homecoming couldn’t be more opposite of the one I’d envisioned. I’d pictured Max dramatically scooping me up and carrying me over the threshold, me giggling as he nuzzled his face in my neck, kissing me just below the ear, sending electric charges through my abdomen. But as I drop my suitcase now, the thud from the luggage hitting the hardwood floor echoesthrough the vacant house, underscoring the emptiness inside of me.
    I draw my breath hard into my lungs and release it slowly, remembering Jules’ advice on our flight home: just take everything one moment at a time . I turn at the sound of her footsteps behind me. She’s gripping a suitcase in each hand and has a tote slung over each shoulder, looking like a Sherpa as she walks up. After I’d dissolved into tears as my luggage descended the conveyor belt at LAX, she’d demanded that she carry all of my bags, only letting me be in charge of one small carry-on.
    “I didn’t get very far,” I say as I reach out to grab the straw purse that’s sliding down her arm—the one I’d planned to stuff with magazines and books and take to the private poolside cabana Max and I had rented for the first day of our honeymoon on the island of Lanai.
    “You’re inside. That’s something.” She presses her lips together forming a slight smile, releasing the rest of my bags around her feet.
    I nod, my eyes resting on one of the pink luggage tags that reads Bride.
    “So”—she laces her fingers through mine—“let’s take a few more steps. If we’re diligent, we might get to the staircase by nightfall.”