Chapter Forty-Six Photographer

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed in the center of the room. Our shudders began to die down, the wind not being knocked out of us every time we took a delicate breath. Bit by bit, our arms began to not grip as tight, our bodies began dislocate from each other and we began to breath normally again until finally we were just standing in front of each other, smiling. We both wanted to say ‘I love you’, but didn’t need to. The expression and meaning we had displayed with the bird coming home was enough emotion to get us through the day. After we could only pick up with our random declarations. We separated at just the right time, a knocking suddenly sounding throughout the apartment. I felt my body stiffen at the invasion, fearing that someone had seen me naked on the balcony and had now called the cops. Gerard’s brows even began to knit across his forehead, until a familiar noise followed.

“Gerard,” the female voice sounded, striking a chord within me. Even before she bellowed her name, I knew who it was. “It’s Vivian!”

I let out the breath I was holding. We were both safe.

I didn’t exactly know why Vivian was coming to see us. It was Saturday morning, but I figured her usual breakfasts with Gerard had been put on hold considering the grave circumstances that had fallen on both of us. With the mere sounding of the well-known tone, Gerard’s face lit up, like he had been expecting it all along. He pulled away from me, moving closer to the door.

“I’ll be there in a second, Viv!” Though Gerard’s back was to me, I could feel his happiness emerging. His best friend was outside, his lover was inside, and the bird had returned. It was turning out to be a great day for Gerard, and it was only halfway done. But I still found something very wrong with the situation.

“Umm, Gerard?” I called for him, still standing in the spot he had left me at. I could feel the air in the apartment, though not cold, send a shiver through my body from the areas where he used to cover. My bare flesh was still exposed, and gathering beads of perspiration in some spots from our embrace.

“Hmmm?” he muttered, his back still towards me.

I sighed, laughing to myself a little at the situation as I made my voice a little more stern. “Should you really be opening the door?”

At last my remark seemed to register, and he turned his body around. However, it had registered inaccurate because he heaved a heavy sigh, as apposed to the lighthearted one I kept in my chest.

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, as if he were trying to comfort me. His brows were furrowed in deep rooted concern, but I was not sad. I had no idea why he would have thought I was sad until he began to explain.

“Vivian knows, and she’s not going to tell. I told her to come over today, so it’s not a trap. Don’t worry…” He was over to me by this point, and warped me in a hug. I was baffled, but hugged back, thinking that he needed it more than I did. I had figured Vivian coming was just a pure and innocent act. I hadn’t thought much else into it.

“I know,” I told Gerard, hugging him loosely. “But don’t you think you should be wearing clothing when you answer the door?”

I shot a smug look up at him as he parted from the hug. He seemed shocked at first, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he realized I wasn’t sad, or because we were still naked.

“Oh!” he finally uttered, detaching himself from me and rolling his eyes. “I guess she doesn’t need to see this.”

I nodded, seeing some red root through his pale cheeks. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his room, shouting to Vivian that we should be there in a moment. I felt my heart swell inside my chest, just for the sheer fact that he had said we. Normally concerning Vivian, he would address himself singularly. He was her friend, I was just a third wheel. Ever since the last time I had seen her, where she accepted our relationship for what it really was, things had changed. Perhaps it was our near annihilation that made Gerard address us together, as one single entity. I wasn’t entirely sure, and some things were better left unknown.

As Gerard and I got dressed in his room, I almost felt like I really did live there, and I had been living there for awhile. He threw on a pair of his tight corduroy pants and a button up shirt, only doing up one before he dashed away to answer the door. I was close behind him, wearing a mix and match of his clothing and my underwear. I always liked wearing his clothes, for some odd reason. The art shirt was my favourite, and was something I had continually draped across my bare shoulders, feeling suave as I did so. I always felt like I embodied some essence of Gerard when I wore his clothing. Like I was the elusive artist, philosophical ideologies falling out of my mouth like the breath of air. It was something I never could be, wanted to be, but could hold in my hands either in clothing or flesh at night. That seemed to be enough.

Gerard opened the door swiftly to greet Vivian, wrapping her in a larger than usual hug. He eclipsed her immensely, preventing me from seeing what she was wearing. Even though I had met her with her clothing on a few times since I had seen her naked, I always found it hard picturing her as anything but the redheaded exhibitionist. Even when Gerard told me of her daughter, her job and past life, I found those ideas, much like clothing, hard to picture on this woman. She seemed so young to me – not in her late thirties, catching up to Gerard. Then again, Gerard didn’t seem that old to me either. There was just so much life in both their bodies, nothing could mask it. Clothing or age.

“It’s so good to see you!” Vivian almost shouted, meaning every word. It occurred to me just then that this was their first meeting (at least not surrounded by police) in a long time. He squeezed the life out of her, but not like he did with me.

As I observed their actions closer, I began to see how Gerard had described their love. It was just there. It wasn’t on fire, but glowing constantly, fueling things to come. Gerard loved her, but it wasn’t with the same passion he did with me. I felt my heart swell again.

“And it’s good to see you, too, Frank!” she exclaimed once done the hug with Gerard. She made her way over to me, her turquoise shirt catching me off guard right away, before her arms around me in a giant hug did. I noticed she was about my height as her red hair fell over my shoulder, my loose hands finding her sides. I was not used to hugging people on command, other than Gerard and Jasmine. I had never done it with friends, so I had always assumed it meant something more. I had to keep reminding myself, especially after Vivian placed a quick peck on my lips, that some people employed these gestures for affection, and not anything romantic. It was away of saying hello and showing that you cared. The idea of Vivian, one of Gerard’s friends, caring about me was a little hard to comprehend, but it felt nice. It was almost a motherly type of love, with more of an emphasis on friendship than parenting.

Once she had backed away from our small hug, I saw that her bright blue-green sweater (matching the shade of her eyes by only a few hues) sat up top of silky smooth black dress pants. Her hair was poised almost perfectly in small curls and waves, the wafting smell of hair products still lingering on my shirt. I also noticed she was wearing make-up, soft hues adorning her eyes lined with a soft dark tipped pen. I had never seen Vivian dressed up like this before, if even dressed period. Even when she had come to visit the last Saturday I had been at Gerard’s place, she had not worn make-up. She was still in her flannel pajama pants, a rock t-shirt adorning it. She looked professional here, and so much older.

“You look good, Viv,” Gerard commented, noticing that I had been studying her. He smiled at me as I snapped myself out of it, paying attention to the situation at hand.

“Thank you,” she replied, blinking erratically as she dipped down to do a little makeshift curtsey. Then, quickly changing from her girly ways, she topped off the remark with a slight sarcastic approach, rolling her eyes. “It’s for work, you know.”

“You’re working on a Saturday?” I questioned, allowing myself into the conversation right away. Anytime Vivian had been over before, despite her best efforts, I had always felt secluded, or secluded myself. I was not going to do that this time, and started out right away bouncing in.

“Yeah. You know, when you work in the art business you kinda have to look at least half as good as the paintings, especially if you don’t make ‘em yourself. Looks are key. Sounds sorta shallow, but not really. I love my job and all, just a bummer when I gotta work on a Saturday,” she retorted, rolling her eyes again and making a disgusted face. “But, that’s actually why I’m here.”

She added a smooth sly smile and a glance over to Gerard at the end, making me wonder just what the fuck was going on. I remembered why I always felt secluded in their conversations; they seemed to have so many inside jokes I had no idea if I needed to laugh or feel threatened.

“What? Why?”

“Vivian has a show to prepare for today,” Gerard explained, nodding his head and getting the same sly smile. He motioned with his free hand up and down her body, cocking and eyebrow. “Which is why she is fulfilling her duty and looking absolutely ravishing.”

She smiled at him, batting his hand away. “Coming from a gay man, that is quite the compliment. And coming from you, it’s an honor.” She smiled, turning her attention towards me. “Gerard told me you’ve been taking pictures and that you’re quite the photographer…” She let her words die down, leaving me to make the conclusions in my mind.

“No way,” I stated, shaking my head and back away from the two people around me. All three of us had been making a triangular formation with our bodies, none of us actually touching, but as the bottom dropped out when I moved away, they began to follow side by side, their smiles present on their faces, despite my outward refusal at first. They looked like a pack of hyenas approaching a kill.

“I’m not having my photos in some exhibit,” I insisted again, my voice shaking with nervousness. “I don’t want to be judged by other people.”

“Art isn’t about judging, Frank,” Gerard soothed. “It’s about critiquing. ”

“I still don’t want that, either,” I retorted, my hands waving in front of my face as a refusal. I didn’t care if Gerard, Jasmine, or even Vivian saw my photos. They were my friends and they wouldn’t judge – or critique – whatever the fuck that meant. If they did, I knew it was for the best. They wouldn’t hurt me too much. It was strangers, people who thought they had a lot of prestige, that I didn’t want to see my work. They would be too harsh and cruel, slaughtering me just because they could. It was my work; just like those pieces of poetry and torn up dreams I kept in my drawer at home. I was too afraid to show them, and I was too afraid to show these pictures. The three people I knew I could trust had enough to show them. I couldn’t imagine a bigger audience.

“Don’t worry about jerks,” Vivian came in, playing off Gerard’s words and the torn expression on my face. “This is an exhibit for new artists. I think I told you guys about it ages ago. It hasn’t been doing well. It was hard to find new people…” She trailed off, listing reasons as the memory came back to me.

I did remember her mentioning it the last time she came over. She and Gerard had raided my painting collection, wanting to put that up. I knew there was no way in fucking hell those ruined canvases were going to be put on a wall. It wasn’t near as good as my photos. My photos, I had convinced myself, and Gerard seemed to agree, were good. They could possibly survive in a new artist’s exhibit… I found my mind wandering even more, actually debating everything. I had certainly worked hard enough to get them fucking developed, I might as well do something with them. I guessed I wanted to do it, in a way, but I couldn’t get over the thick mental block inside my head. I would be exposing myself. I would be putting myself up for ridicule. And what if they really did suck?

“But…” I started again, spilling the thoughts that had been running through my mind. I tripped a lot of the time, but I still picked myself up until they were all out, and I was left with Gerard and Vivian, two adults, staring at me. They didn’t look down on me though; they looked at me, trying to showing me what I was.

“Frank, let me see something,” Vivian stated the question, making it have only the answer she wanted. I bit my lip, anticipating the complete pillage of my photos. I was surprised when a completely other cause escaped her lips. “Let me see your hands.”

I opened my eyes and looked at her, completely forgetting the merit behind the act. She had asked me this before, when I was a mere struggling artist. I had found myself in the short period of time since our last meeting, but she had yet to witness proof. She needed to see my hands to be sure she knew what she was getting herself into. She needed to know that her encouragement was not in vain. She needed proof; she needed my hands.

She began to walk over to me slowly, like I was some wild animal suddenly placed in captivity and still getting used to the human race. Gerard lagged behind her, watching with a half-smile to make sure everything went according to plan. His grin only grew as I exchanged a quick look with him, extending my hands forward gradually and letting Vivian take me away. She placed her face close to my skin, so close I could feel her breath and her tiny button nose against me. She flipped my hands over, linked our fingers, and tugged on the skin a bit with a blank countenance before she finally breathed out a sigh of relief. She looked up at me, her aqua eyes beaming and radiating like her shirt. She pointed to the thin skin between my thumb and index finger.

“It’s worn down,” she informed me, letting go. I brought my hand to my face, checking out just what she meant, while she kept talking. “It’s worn because your body is accommodating for something. You’re body knows that something belongs there, and it’s not rejecting it anymore. It’s making a home for it.”

She paused, and I saw what she was talking about. I saw some patches of skin I had never seen before, almost as if they had popped up over night. I had noticed a small change in my hands before, when I was just taking pictures, but this was like something I had never seen before. I saw exactly what she had pointed out to me; a home, a worn down place that my camera fit into. It was staring up at me, no longer mocking me, but congratulating me that it finally had a purpose. I had actually needed to finish the act of photography, the development included, to actually have my hands accept me. Not reject. My skin was glowing, I was sure of it.

“You’re a photographer, Frank,” she stated, reading my mind but putting it into simpler words I could comprehend. I looked up at her from the new canvas of my skin, and smiled right along side her. I was an artist, but I had already been that. When I played my guitar, painted, and tried to express myself through meager bits of poetry, I was still an artist. I hadn’t found my exact talent yet, but I was pursuing a path down the arts that would hopefully lead me to my true goal. I had found that in photography. I was a special breed of artist now, one called a photographer. It felt astounding knowing what I was. I captured a quick glance of Gerard in the background; he looked even more amazed than myself.

“You’re a photographer and I would love to have in my show,” Vivian concluded her thought, cocking her eyebrows at me, opening up the suggestion once more. My elated phases fizzled, and I felt my deliberation stir within myself.

“I don’t know…”

“Okay – let’s take a look then? Maybe you’ll change your mind?” she asked again, her head cocked to the side. She realized how hard this was for me, even if she didn’t understand it all and she was trying to make things easier. She was asking to be let into my soul, to see my works of art. I looked at Gerard, who merely nodded his head quietly. He owned at least a small section of my soul that was hanging up on lines inside that small room; I had to asked for his permission first. And once he agreed, I knew I didn’t have much to lose. A sigh fell from my chest as my arms fell open, pointing to the room where our secrets where kept. Vivian squealed a bit at my acceptance, and ushered quickly into the room, being careful not to distort the red light. Gerard followed close behind, but looked back at me when he realized I was still standing in the middle of the floor.

“Come on,” he said, extending his hand across the room that felt like countries apart. “Be apart of your future.”

With that, I took his hand and walked inside the room, red light washing over me.

***

 

Vivian must have spent hours looking at my photos. At least it felt that way. When you feel like you’re being cast under harsh scrutiny, even mere seconds can feel like lifetimes. I was expecting to hear insult after insult, and if not that, then at least polite rejection after polite rejection, but that wasn’t what was filling my eardrums. For the longest time I was acquainted with silence, and them mere whispers and murmurings between the artist and his friend. I stood outside the door while the two of them crammed their older bodies inside. Vivian’s chipper voice started to sound completely in my ears as they both emerged from the red depths, my photos in hand. Gerard moved next to me, sliding his arm around me proudly.

“I can see this in the exhibit,” Vivian said, and Gerard would give me a small squeeze. I could feel his smile baring into me, I could sense the sincerity in Vivian’s voice, but I didn’t want to smile. I felt like a spoiled brat, but I didn’t care. This whole act itself was hard. I didn’t really want my things to be put into a gallery; I wasn’t good enough for that yet. I wasn’t ready for that yet. Putting myself on display would be another step in growing up, one that I wasn’t sure where it would take me. I was okay to grow up inside of Gerard’s apartment, inside of Gerard’s arms, but once cast out into the real world, I didn’t know my surroundings. I didn’t know how or where I was going to grow up. Gerard would be with me, he promised me, and he stood right beside me, squeezing me and letting me know that, but I was still in a dangerous territory. I would be in an art culture that I didn’t know existed until weeks ago. I couldn’t just be thrust in there with nothing to cling onto.

“I can see this in someone’s living room,” Vivian proclaimed, her voice striking a particular high note as she saw a picture she really liked. She picked it off the line and held it up to show me and Gerard. It was one of the smaller, quicker pictures I had done, of a swing set moving in the wind to the park. It looked as if a child was still on it from the height I had caught the swing in motion, but it had been long since deserted for awhile. I couldn’t understand what she saw in it, and I had no idea what she meant.

“Someone’s living room?” I questioned, furrowing my brow and shifting my weight. “Is that where were having the exhibit?”
She chuckled a bit, and I could feel Gerard muffling what he could of his own laughter.

“Not quite, honey,” Vivian corrected, placing the picture back up on the line and moving around some more. I knew honey was code word for stupid, but chose to ignore it.

“Then what?”

“People are going to buy these photos,” she explained, still glancing around. She had started to view our story backwards, seeing the pictures of Gerard and I first and smiling like a maniac when she did. She hadn’t said much about them, just grinned constantly and winked at Gerard, causing him to blush again. I had never seen Gerard blush so many times in one day, but I figured happiness did that to you. Vivian was almost at the end of the line, reaching the beginning of the story.

“What do you think the point of an exhibit is?” she added.

“People buy them?” My eyes bulged out of my head. Never in my life had I even considered people looking at my art, let alone buying it. The idea struck me cold; people would want to buy a piece of my soul. I had spent so long getting it right; I wasn’t entirely sure if I could let that go.

“Yes,” she laughed again, cocking her head back. This seemed like such a simple and normal idea to her, while I was freaking out in my own skin.

“Who would want to buy them? Why?” Unreasonably, my voice started to hitch in my throat. I lunged forward, grabbing the first picture I saw. It was one I had taken of the fucking leaky faucet in my house that drove me crazy. It suddenly felt like the stupid picture ever taken, not just by me, but by any photographer. I held it up for both Gerard and Vivian to see, exposing my weaknesses through sound and picture.

“Who would want to buy a picture of a faucet?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Vivian quipped up right away. It was a simple response, but a hard one to come back with. “People have bought stranger things in the past…” she trailed off, her attention elsewhere. I looked to Gerard, begging him for something more.

“Vivian’s right,” he stated simply. Too simple, for Gerard at least.

“But it’s just a faucet!” I waved the picture around like it was noting – it was nothing, as far as I was concerned.

There was no such thing as that in Gerard’s mind.

“It’s a picture of life, Frank,” he retorted, slapping a major meaning on something so insignificant. I looked back down at the facet, and even though it didn’t make logical sense, I saw life. The constant dripping of the water, was like the constant beating of a heart. And my constant annoyance of it showed that I was still alive; still getting annoyed. I looked back over to Gerard, my mouth hanging open in shock as apposed to anger. He smiled at me, concluding his statement. “Who wouldn’t want to buy life?”

“But…but…” I started to mumble again, placing the picture down, because it had become much heavier in my hands. I looked around at everything thrown into bunches and shambles around me. There was so much in that small room, so much for something I had just started to do. I had just started to hone and perfect my skills. I couldn’t be that good right away. I shouldn’t have been offered this exhibit. But I was, and I realize how foolish of me not to take it for all that it was worth. It was a chance to save my life again. I needed it. But everything just seemed so easy. Too easy.

With the artist though, nothing was what it seemed to be. There were always double meanings, even in the clarity of a camera lens.

“Anyone can take a picture, Gerard,” I informed him, my voice being dragged down by my attitude. “It’s too easy. Who would want to buy something they could have done themselves?”

“True,” Gerard countered, leaning his torso forward a bit, his bangs falling in his eyes and giving me the illusion that I was winning. He began to speak up again, his works quick and sharp, cutting down my harsh façade. “But not all people take pictures. Anyone can, but not everyone does. And from the amount of cursing I heard going on in that darkroom, I don’t think the developing process is easy. Most people shy away from that. Most people don’t even bother to try. The same goes for painting.”

“But painting is so much different from photography,” I stammered, nearly stumbling over the gigantic word that was supposedly now my profession. “Painting requires talent, painting is what you are. A painting can be anything you want it to be. You can make the sky purple and the grass orange. I just push a button and develop.”

“True again,” he started, but I didn’t let myself buy in right away. “But not everyone can take your picture. Even if the object you are taking a picture of isn’t you, it’s you behind the camera. The camera shows the truth, but you are making that happen. The photographer cannot distort the truth in any way shape or form; the camera won’t let them. But it’s your job to bring the beauty that comes naturally, the beauty of truth to the people who are too lazy and apathetic to find it themselves. The world needs photographers for this fact.” Gerard paused, taking a deep breath before he delivered his final line like a punch to the heart - a good one though, one that made it start to beat again. “This exhibit needs a photographer like you.”

I stood still, not knowing what to say or do. I felt pride swell inside of me, knowing that Gerard was using the clarity of the camera to help me the way it had helped him the night prior. I wanted to believe him, I really did. There were so many thoughts swirling around inside my head, so many fears manifesting themselves and I knew I was being irrational. I knew it, but it was hard to break habits that were so strongly engrained. I was already trying so hard in so many other ways; I didn’t know how many more things I could keep piling on.

“But… but…” I heard the words fall from my mouth again, my arms weak and flailing at my sides.

“Frank,” Gerard’s voice sounded me out of my twisted thoughts, making me stand up straight again. I looked up at him from the floor, where my eyes had fallen. His eyes were narrowed, and though he was caring in his voice, the lecturing was still there.

“You’re never going to change the world if you don’t show people how.”

He clucked his tongue after, adding another sting of reality. His words were small and simple, but I found myself warming up to them, warming up to the idea. I wanted to change the world, I realized. At first, I had thought I had only wanted to change myself, but I realized that in order to do that, I need to change the world I lived in as well. The night before I had helped Gerard in the world we had created for ourselves, and fuck, it had felt good. I had to break out of my shell a little bit, in order to do the same thing again, but with other people. It had just been Gerard in my life for the longest time that I had forgotten there were other people out there. There was Sam and Travis and those other kids, but they were different. They didn’t want help. They didn’t want to be saved, so of course I had forgotten them in the grand scheme of things.

But then there was my mother. She may not have been entirely supportive of everything I did, or know exactly what I was doing every day, but she still wanted to be saved. It was why she went to church. It was why she brought me to church. She knew that this role of saving lives was possible, and she was doing her own way to implement it. I had to do the same, because there were many more people out there just like her who needed the help they couldn’t find in a church. There were people out there just like I had been months ago who still didn’t know what art was, but it was their only salvation. By saving other people, I knew I could save myself. If I did change the outside world, the one where Gerard and I were afraid to go, then maybe, we could live without fear. I was going to have to test that theory soon enough. I was getting closer and closer to being an adult, and though things felt like they were choking me, I needed it. I needed someone to prevent my breathing so I appreciated the action more and more. Everything may have been piling on top of me, but I needed that everything. Gerard and I were that everything. And if he was with me, then maybe, just maybe I could do this.

“Okay,” I finally uttered. I had closed my eyes, and clenched my fists at my sides, before I felt Gerard’s presence next to me. He was hugging me again, just a quick one in the crowded room where Viv was still present. He kissed the top of my forehead, before detaching, his arm still around my waist. I was doing the right thing.

“Excellent!” Vivian nearly shouted, her voice louder than usual when contained inside the small room. She clasped her hands in front of her chest, her long white teeth being bared in an extravagant smile. I found myself smiling in spite of myself, especially when Gerard gave me another quick peck on the head. I loved it when he kissed me there; it felt so much more caring than the mouth, which was always more sensual. When he kissed me on the head, it was to show he was there in the form of support, caring. That was what I needed right then, more than anything.

“So, pick out the ones you want on display, and hopefully Gerard will help you start to frame them.” Viv shot Gerard a look, and he put his one free hand in the air, showing compliance as she continued, “And then hopefully, you’ll be ready for tonight’s gallery.”

“Wait,” I cut in quickly, unsure of what I had heard. “The exhibit is tonight?”

My eyes began to bulge forward, and there was an undeniable sense of urgency in my voice. Vivian nodded her head, confirming my thoughts. I was going to be baring my soul within a few hours time. I had no idea what time it was, but I knew it was at least early afternoon. I felt my heart start to pound again, worries coming back to me. I had just warmed up to the idea of sharing; I didn’t know it would be so soon.

“That’s not enough time,” I interjected, the sheer sense of panic written all over the sudden lines beginning to form on my young face. Neither adult filched.

“There is always enough time for everything,” Gerard countered, some sadness in his voice that I didn’t pay full attention to.

“He’s right.” Vivian agreed, looking at her delicate wristwatch. “It’s barely one o’clock now. The exhibit starts at nine tonight, and your photos should be ready by seven or so. That’s plenty of time.” She smiled at me again, her chin up, and head high like a three year old that had just finished building a sandcastle. Her playful manners did nothing to cool my nerves.

“That’s only six hours,” I stated through gritted teeth. I looked at Vivian, and when I got no response, I looked to Gerard, whose face was placid. The red light distorted everything, and I didn’t feel like I was in my own life anymore. Things were moving by too fast, too soon, and I had no idea where to stop.

“I still don’t even have my color photos developed.” I smacked my hand to my forehead overdramatically, remembering the smaller detail. I had been so caught up in everything else around me, I totally forgot that my story wasn’t even complete.

“So, get on it!” Gerard encouraged, making my cheeks flush. I couldn’t admit that I didn’t even know how. I looked at the ground, shifting my weight around. I heard Gerard’s steady breath – the way he breathed when he wanted me to pay attention and shape up. Not quite a condescending sigh, but more lulled and relaxing. I expected Vivian’s reaction to be similar, but I felt her place a hand around my shoulder instead.

“Why don’t you let me take care of that, Frank.” She sort of clucked her tongue as she spoke, making her statement seem definite. I was still going to try and argue anyway.

“You know how?”

“I went to art school, too, you know.” She raised her eyebrows at me, then rolling them slightly. “And I dated a photographer. Interesting guy. Always smelled funny and took way too many naked pictures of me. But God, sex in a darkroom is amazing. Have you guys tried it yet?”

The redhead looked carelessly from wide-eyed me to Gerard, who shot her a friendly glare. He drew his gaze to me with more care, and breathed out simply, “Maybe some other time. We all have a lot of work to. Especially you, Viv, now that you’ve volunteered.”

Vivian suddenly walked forward, batting Gerard playfully and ducking into the darkroom to grab the roll of film. I extended my hand out to her, calling for her to stop, telling her I could figure it out myself and do it some other time – anything. I didn’t want her to develop my work. It seemed wrong, it didn’t seem like me.

Gerard, like always, calmed me down with another reassuring touch.

“Just let her, Frank. She’ll figure it out in no time, and her office has a better studio to do this at. She can teach you how to do color later.”

“But…”
“Sometimes artists need help. You’ve already caught the truth. It doesn’t matter who sees it first because you created it. And no matter who touches the negative, that won’t change.”

Our eyes locked momentarily, and I felt my body relax. Vivian smiled when she came out of the room again, holding the roll proudly.

“These are in good hands, hon. You’ll be okay. Just start framing what you have already, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“What if I’m late?” I asked again, trying to find another excuse to go with. But they were both tired of my excuses; none of them meant much of anything anymore.

“You can never be too late to change the world, Frank,” Gerard spoke again, the clarity and philosophical nature in his voice present. When he looked down on me, his body was against the backdrop of the door, some infra-red around him, making him glow. Making me feel hopeful again. It was like we were back in his bedroom, talking and dreaming on his bed. It made me realize he was right, and that I was safe, because he was going to help me. My mouth fell open, but I didn’t need to talk this time. I had done enough of that. Words weren’t going to change my word, I started to realize. Pictures were. And I had a lot at my disposal.

I walked forward and began to look through to the future.