The Wish(57)

To be honest, it left me feeling a bit out of sorts. I kept my pajamas on, ate toast in the kitchen, stood on the porch, wandered the house, listened to music, then ended up in bed again. But I couldn’t sleep—I was more bored than tired—and after tossing and turning for a while, I finally summoned the energy to get dressed, only to think, Now what?

I suppose I could have studied for finals or continued working on the next semester’s assignments, but I wasn’t in the mood for that, so I grabbed a jacket and the camera along with the light meter, loading all of it into the basket on my bicycle. I didn’t really have an idea of where to go, so I pedaled around for a while, stopping now and then to practice taking the same kind of photos I’d been taking all along—street scenes, buildings and houses. Always, though, I ended up lowering the camera before pressing the shutter. In my mind’s eye, I already knew that none would have been all that special—just more of the same—and I didn’t want to waste the film.

It was around that time that I sensed that the mood of the village had shifted. It was no longer ghostlike and sleepy, but strangely busy. On practically every street, I heard the sounds of drills or hammers, and when I rode past the grocery store, I noticed that the parking lot was full, with additional cars lining the street out front. Trucks filled with lumber rolled past me, and at one of the businesses that sold tourist items like Tshirts and kites, I saw a man on the roof fastening a tarp. Boats at the docks were lashed with dozens of ropes while others had been anchored in the harbor. No doubt, people were getting ready for the nor’easter, and I suddenly realized that I had the opportunity to take a series of photos with an actual theme, something with a name like People Before the Storm.

I’m afraid I went a bit crazy with it, even though I only had twelve exposures. Because there was no joviality in the people I saw—just grim determination—I tried to be as circumspect with my camera as possible, all the while trying to remember everything that Bryce and his mom had taught me. The overall lighting, fortunately, was pretty good—thick clouds had rolled in, some grayish-black in color—and after checking the meter, I’d peer through the viewfinder and move around until finally achieving the perspective and composition that felt right. Thinking back on the photographs that I had studied with Bryce, I’d hold my breath, keeping the camera perfectly still while carefully pressing the shutter. I knew they weren’t all going to be amazing, but I was hoping that one or two would be keepers. Notably, it was the first time I photographed people going about their daily lives…the fisherman securing his boat with a grimace; the woman carrying a baby while leaning into a wind; a lean and wrinkled man smoking in front of a boarded-up storefront.

I worked through lunch, only stopping at the shop for a biscuit sandwich as the weather began to perceptibly worsen. By the time I got back to my aunt’s house, I had a single exposure left. My aunt had returned early from the shop—her car was in the drive—but I didn’t see her, and I arrived just as Bryce’s truck pulled in. When he waved, I crazily felt my heart speed up. His father was beside him, and I could see Richard and Robert in the bed of the truck. I grabbed the camera from the bike basket. After Bryce hopped out, he strolled toward me. He was wearing a T-shirt and faded jeans that accentuated his wide shoulders and angular hips, along with a leather tool belt that held a cordless drill and a pair of leather gloves. Smiling in that easy way of his, he waved.

“How did it go today?” he asked. “Anything good?”

I told him about my People Before the Storm idea and added, “I’m hoping that you or your mom will be able to develop them soon.”

“I’m sure my mom will be happy to. The darkroom is the happiest place in the house for her, the only place she can really be by herself. I can’t wait to see them.”

Behind him, at the truck, I saw his father unloading the ladder from the bed. “How was it on your end?”

“Nonstop, and we still have a few more places to go. We’re heading to your aunt’s shop next.”

Up close, I noted the smudges of dirt on his shirt, which didn’t detract from the way he looked in the slightest. “Aren’t you cold? You probably need a jacket.”

“I haven’t had time to think about it,” he said. Then, surprising me, “I missed you today.”

Bryce glanced at the ground, then met my eyes again, his gaze holding steady, and for a split second I had the distinct sense that he wanted to kiss me. The feeling caught me off guard and I think he must have realized it, too, because he suddenly hooked a thumb over his shoulder, quickly becoming the Bryce I knew once more. “I should probably get going so we can finish before dark.”

My throat felt dry. “Don’t let me hold you up.”

I stepped back, wondering if I’d been imagining things, as Bryce turned away. He fell in beside his father as they approached the storage area beneath the house.

Meanwhile, Richard and Robert lugged the ladder toward the porch. On instinct, I moved away from the house, unconsciously trying to figure out how best to frame a final shot with the single exposure I had left. Stopping when the angle seemed right, I adjusted the aperture and checked the light meter, making sure everything was ready to go.

Bryce and his father had vanished inside the storage room, but after a few seconds, I watched Bryce emerge with a piece of plywood. He leaned it against the wall, then returned for another; within minutes, there was a stack of them. Bryce and one of the twins carried one sheet to the front door, while Porter and the other twin did the same. They disappeared inside, my aunt holding the door open for them, only to reappear on the porch a few seconds later. I lifted the lens as they began putting up the plywood over the sliding glass door, but the shot wasn’t worth taking because all of them had their backs to me. Bryce sank the first screw, the rest following in rapid succession. Up went the second piece of plywood with equal speed, and the four of them descended the ladder. Both times, I lowered the camera.