Love Affair with Photography

“Can I take your picture?” she asked in the direction of the blond boy who was far more wrapped up in remembering which class he was headed toward. Her voice was surprisingly meek, though she was practically yelling her request.

“Umm... are you talking to me?” he replied, before looking up at her. He was trying to straighten the books he was nearly hugging to his chest, still more concerned with them than this girl or her question. He just knew that he was going to be late to whichever class it was he was headed... Interpersonal Dynamics... and if he stopped, he would just be later and he didn’t want to miss anything important.

She looked sheepish as his eyes met hers and promptly began over-explaining. “Yeah. For my class. Photo. Art 150. With Smulcheski. Fran. I have it tomorrow. I need more pictures. I only have 5. It’s 24 exposure film. So, can I take your picture?”

He gave her a quick, summarily glance. She did have a good camera and she looked harmless enough. She even looked kind of cute with her hair in two little buns on the top of her head, oversized clothes, a huge lens on her camera, and doe-like eyes. She reminded him of a cartoon character. He couldn’t see any harm in having her take his picture, it wasn’t as though it would steal his soul.

“Okay, sure.” he replied with a smile about his face. She became visible excited at his agreement, which made his smile amused and far more genuine. “Just don’t make me your final project, I don’t need that pressure,” he jokingly added, trying to be endearing to this comely caricature of a real girl.

“I won’t...” she shyly began, focusing on him with her camera. Click. Whirr. Readjust. “...I promise...” Click. Whirr. Readjust. “...on my honor...” Click. Whirr. Readjust. “...as a girl scout.” Click. Whirr. Readjust.

His eyebrows raised in a mock querulous manner. “Well, Girl Scout, that sounded like several pictures and I only said you could take one. So, I guess you owe me a few pictures...” he flirted in a somewhat charming way. Well, either he was charming or conceited. But they are often very similar, he mused silently.

Her embarrassment spread, coloring her otherwise pallid cheeks sweetly cerise. “Oh... well... I... I mean... um....” she startled to stumble out before he stopped her.

“I understand, I took photo last semester in high school. You have to take a lot of pictures to make sure at least one comes out well. You’ll have to show me how they come out after you develop them.” he assured her. He had given up trying to be flirtatious with her, he was afraid that he had laid it on too thick when his intention was merely to be amusing and in doing so made this Minnie Mouse Girl Scout girl uncomfortable.

Relieved, she smiled up at him, which was a feat as they were the same height. “Oh, good, you know...” she began and finishing the rest in the process of a swift escape, “Well, I’ve... uh... got to go now.”

He had no time to say anything to this girl before she was out of earshot and halfway to Hudson hall. She looked oddly familiar, but it was his first week on campus. Most of these people looked somehow familiar by the process of teenage conformity-through-rebelling, himself included. Putting this encounter out of his mind, he glided to his interpersonal dynamics class ten minutes late.

She, however, could not put any minute part of the encounter out of her head. She loved this boy with all her heart and soul. She had seen him around campus for the first time this week, and knew from the beginning that he was the one. He was different from these other college boys, who just wanted to get in your pants and were obsessed with the size of their... lenses. She could still almost feel their sweaty hand on her body and smell their dank, beer breath. He, on the other hand, was caring and deep and special and sweet and chivalrous and magical and precious and strong and hot and warm and cool and sensitive and seductive and sensual and sexual and five foot ten inches tall. Perfect, to a T... or is that a P? She wondered.

Granted, this was the only time she had ever spoken to him in her life, but she could tell. She had a sixth sense about these sort of things. This time she was right, of course. Not like last time with Bill... but that didn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter to him. Now she had a piece of him, etched by a two hundred and fiftieth of a second of sunlight onto the stiff plastic of the film on the inside of her camera. She was carrying a part of him with her and she always would.

In a few years, they would get married and she could get pregnant and have a part of him within her for nine whole months. This time she would wait to get pregnant, and he would wait for her like the prince that he was. This time it would be romantic. He’d be gentle. He’d stop if she said no, but she would never say no to him. He was perfect, after all.

She rushed off to the dark room. It was always so warm and safe, like a womb. It was the only darkness that didn’t scare her, after what happened. No one could touch her here. It was just her and her prince. She developed the film almost automatically, shutting off and floating away on fantasies about white steeds and castles.

When finally all of the ever so important chemicals had taken hold and done their respective tricks, she had him. Well, she had a very tiny, two-dimensional, inverted version of him. The film was still very soft, so much like him. She needed to put it in the dryer for at least fifteen minutes. But would it be safe there? She would have to guard it so none of those other hussies would try to steal him away. She patiently sat in front of the door, not allowing anyone or anything to get by her. Sure, the other girls said they only wanted to dry their film, but you couldn’t trust them she knew. She couldn’t trust any one anymore. It still hurt so much... But she could trust him, her prince.

She wondered aloud what his name could be. She was sure it was something dramatic and noble. His last name would have to sound perfect with her first name, since they were going to get married. And the were. No one could tell her different, not that she ventured to talk to anyone else about him. She couldn’t trust them and knew they wouldn’t understand. He was perfect for her, not for them. It really wasn’t any of their business and they were rather rude to try to persist it was.

Finally the film was dry and she could make as many copies of him as she wanted to. Just like after they got married. She could create as many tiny versions of him as she wanted and she would love them all as much as she loved him. They would all be perfect. She would be perfect. Seeing his perfect smile press itself into the photo paper made her long for the day that he would press his lips against hers. It would be soon.

After the light had drawn all of his ideal features upon the glossy paper, she quickly placed him in the photo chemicals. Slowly, ever so slowly, she saw the fluid bring his image out of the hidden depths of microscopic crystals in the paper. Oh, he was beautiful. Not handsome or hot. Other boys could be that. No, she was quite sure he was beautiful.

She quickly put the paper through the remaining cleasers and fixers so she could take him out into the light for all to see. They couldn’t have him though, he was going to be hers forever. She walked him out into the light so she could see his beautiful face.

She smiled widely as she saw him in the humming lights of the lobby. She was beautiful and smiling only for her. Always. Suddenly, she saw a black streak run across the picture. No! That couldn’t happen! She put it through the fixer. It was perfect! The light was burning the entire picture black.

She fell to the floor and wept as the bright light burned her photo to a glossy black.