Camera
Today was going to be a good day. I could feel it in the air as I walked out on my porch in the early-morning sun. The smell of morning dew and fresh-cut grass floated on the air.
Most people think that being alone is a horrible thing. I’d never really understood that. There was peace in solitude—a serenity in the quiet. In my experience, other people only served to bring noise, distraction, drama… all things I could live without.
I released a contented sigh as I propped my boots on the railing of the porch. Leaning back in my lawn chair, book in one hand, coffee in the other, no sounds but the birds chirping from the nearby tree and the rustle of leaves on the wind, I could almost forget that I had neighbors.
Almost.
It wasn’t just that they were ten feet from my front door, within spittin’ distance. I could tell the moment they woke up because their day always started with a crash, and then came the shouting. Not even a paragraph in before they started. Living in a trailer park is not ideal for privacy. The walls are thin. Though the way Billy and Joanne Watkins went at it, they could be inside an airtight vault with twelve-inch-thick concrete walls and the world would still hear them.
I huffed, stuffing my bookmark into the book and retreating indoors.
Noise, distraction, drama… yep, definitely not missing out.
Looking around at my bare-bones furnishings, I settled on the twin-size mattress and box springs that I called a couch as my new cozy spot, nestling into the twenty or so pillows. Not that I’d much choice since that and the wooden TV tray that sat next to it were the only furniture I owned, aside from my bed and a matching TV tray back in my bedroom. It wasn’t much, but it was mine.
The bookmark dropped out onto my chest as I opened the book. Hallelujah. I was finally going to get to enjoy my first day off in the last ten days. Since Tracey and Ronnie quit last month, the diner had been short-staffed, leaving me with a grand total of three days off this month. I was going to enjoy this one, Joanne and Billy be damned.
I’d finally gotten my hands on Dean Koontz’s latest book, Midnight, and The Queen of the Damned by Anne Rice. And I was going to read these books before the month’s end, come hell or high water.
It took me longer to get the newest Vampire Chronicles book because Jerry at the Book Shop doesn’t believe that female authors will sell if they aren’t writing lusty romance novels. Sexist pig. But that’s the price you pay for living in the country. You were subject to the whims of the local inhabitants. Unless you had the time and inclination to drive into the city—which I did on my last day off.
I’d just turned the last page of chapter one of the Anne Rice book when Billy and Joanne moved their incessant fighting outside. There was no escaping it. Now, it was coming through my walls loud and clear. Groaning loudly, I slammed the book shut, forgetting the bookmark. I frowned at it as I set it with the book on top of the TV tray. It was looking like reading would not be on the agenda today. But I didn’t know what else to do.
I studied the bare walls as I ignored the screams and accusations happening outside. There was only one picture on my walls. One that had been given to me on my last birthday by the girls at work. It was an Ansel Adams print, probably the most valuable possession in my home. It formerly hung in the window of the frame shop next to the diner. Every day, I stopped outside and stared at it. I’d always wanted to be a photographer. But it was just an out-of-reach dream, an expensive hobby outside my means to partake in.
Window-shopping was a specialty of mine. The other place I liked to stand outside and wistfully sigh was Big John’s Pawn Shop. There was a brand-new Canon AE-1 35 mm camera with a ton of accessories sitting there, calling my name. But I’d just finished saving up my emergency fund. It would be a good six months before I could afford it. If it was still there when I was ready.
It might not be.
That was the moment I decided to throw caution to the wind. Or maybe it’s just my emergency fund burning a hole in my checkbook? Spontaneity wasn’t in my wheelhouse, but my mind was made up. I would get the camera, go to the drugstore for film, and find a pretty piece of countryside to take pictures. Just me and nature.
I jumped up and tossed my purse on my shoulder and was out the door, narrowly dodging water flying in every direction. Joanne was standing in her front yard, threatening Billy with her water hose—again. I shook my head, not even understanding the point of being in a relationship where you obviously hated the other person. This happened every day like clockwork. And my own parents were a testament to the fact that love wasn’t what they said it was in books and movies.
I dove into the front seat of my 1984 Pontiac Fiero, just as water sprayed across the windows. Somehow I missed getting soaked, but a few drops still got in. Closing my eyes, I breathed deep to stop the impulse to say something. Bitch probably did it on purpose. She stuck her nose up in the air and turned her fire back on Billy, who looked unmoved by her antics.
Ten minutes later, I pulled into a parking space in front of Big John’s Pawn Shop. There it was, in all its black-and-silver glory. I walked in with confidence and looked Big John in the eyes as I told him I needed my camera. He smirked at me and went to get it from the window display. The rest of the time I was there, I avoided eye contact, carefully dodging his attempts at small talk. We went to high school together. I knew he was an ass back then, and I was sure the same held true. Taking over his family business probably didn’t instill any more virtue in him.
Thirty minutes later I was driving down the road with my new camera in my lap, four rolls of film in my passenger seat, and hope in my heart. Maybe this was it. Maybe today I would take the picture that would change my life.