Chapter 11: Down to Business

I WAS RELIEVED that there was no embarrassed tension between Chris and me in English class. She did have me pass a note to Patricia, but I didn’t ask what it was about. I was especially relieved because the night before, I’d stroked out three huge comes while looking at pictures of three pairs of my classmates’ tits. Well, Chris only showed one of her boobs, but Janice and Patricia flashed me full with both sides. I went to sleep imagining first one and then the next cuddled up to me with my hands on those perfect teenage breasts, or maybe even getting to suck on them. I woke up in the middle of the night, took one more look at the three pictures, and stroked off another.

What was it that had changed when I moved to Tenbrook? As far as I could tell, I was still the same kind of geeky kid with a camera I was in Calumet. But refinishing an old bicycle had led to refinishing a motorcycle and photos of three incredible girls that won awards in the fairs. Then a chance encounter in a cemetery brought me a fourth model. Frankly, I just liked Christine better than any of the others. Patricia was a marginally better model, and I suppose her bold display was definitely worthy of a Playboy centerfold.

Janice and Judy were sexy, but they approached life with a level of maturity only slightly more advanced than my little sister’s. They were still discovering what their bodies were good for and did it through all their strange costumes. Not that I’d push either of them out of bed.

Then there was Chris. I knew that if I wasn’t attached to Anna, I’d have accepted Chris’s offer in a heartbeat and hoped it led to heaven. She really turned me on.

Anna was just the sweetest and most fun person I’d ever hung around with. We were really working well together on the yearbook photos. She always had an idea and was ready to pose people for me to photograph. I’d taken a few pictures of her, but she usually rolled her eyes and just went on doing whatever else she had to do. I really liked her and I was mentally ticking off the days until December fifteenth when I could kiss her.

I asked Anna how her party was at church Saturday night and got the same kind of eye roll.

“I know I’d have had more fun if I’d gone with you, but some things just can’t be avoided,” she’d said. I really wondered how much of her church beliefs were hers and how much were her parents’ that they pushed on her.

For that matter, how about my own beliefs. I’d certainly been in church for long enough to learn how to play the right games and say the right things. Sure, I believed, but I’d still like to fuck Christine. I mean Anna. Hell. I obviously wasn’t mature enough to even be considering it.

I made a double set of prints of the Halloween party and Wednesday evening, I took them to the rectory and finally met Father Emory for the first time. He hadn’t actually been at the party, various parents having been the chaperones.

“Father Emory, I’m Nate. I was at the youth party Saturday night and took a lot of pictures of the kids who were there. I made a couple of sets of prints and thought perhaps you would like to give them to the parents or the kids themselves.”

“That’s very kind of you, Nate. Oh, yes. They were a lively bunch, weren’t they? It always amazes me to see the costumes they come up with. And are you new in town?” he asked.

“Oh. I should have said that I bring greetings from Reverend Mother Superior,” I said chuckling.

“I beg your pardon. Was there a nun...?”

“Oh, no. My mother is Reverend Hart, the new Methodist minister. She’s my mother, she’s a reverend, and there is none better, so I sometimes call her Reverend Mother Superior. I suppose that’s not a very good joke for Catholics,” I said apologetically. The priest sputtered in laughter.

“No, it’s an excellent joke for Catholics. I can hardly wait to tell the bishop. I might borrow the phrase when I meet your mother at the next council meeting.”

“I kind of collect preacher jokes of all kinds,” I said. “It’s part of surviving in a minister’s home.”

“Oh, well, let me see if I can help. A Methodist minister, a Catholic Priest, and a rabbit walk into a bar. The rabbit says, ‘I’m beginning to think I’m a typo.’” He grinned at me and I laughed. “Now you.”

“Um ... Okay. A Lutheran minister, a Methodist minister, and a Catholic priest were meeting at the council of churches one day. The topic of tithing came up and they asked each other how they determined what portion of their salary they should give back to God. The Lutheran preacher said, ‘I put an offering plate in the middle of the table and throw my money in the air. What lands in the plate, I give to God.’ The Methodist minister said, ‘Mine is similar. I simply have a small table and I throw my money into the air. What lands on the table, I give to God.’ The Priest nodded and said, ‘I do much the same thing. I just toss my money into the air and God takes his while it’s up there.’” I sort of held my breath to see if he really had a sense of humor and he started laughing immediately.

“Very good, Nate. We’ll save more for next time. So, you took these photos and did you say you made the prints?”

“Yes, Father. I have ambitions of becoming a professional photographer. Mr. Barkley at Center Marketplace has provided a space on his fourth floor for my studio and my darkroom. I’ve learned lately that a lot of the quality of a photo is in the processing and printing.”

“These are really very good photos. I am supposed to speak at a national conference in January. Do you suppose you could take my photo for publicity?”

“I think so. Would you want to come to the studio?”

“I would rather you take it in the church. Let’s say in my native habitat. I would, of course, be willing to pay for the portrait.”

“I promise I would make it a reasonable price. You know I only do black and white.”

“Well, they plan to put it in a brochure, so I’m sure black and white is exactly what they want. Let’s set a time. I have a Saturday morning mass at ten for people who can’t make it on Sunday. Can you come to the church at eleven?”

“Yes, sir. That would be fine. Could I perhaps get a tour of the church so I can see what the light is like?” I asked.

“Why don’t we just step over there right now, though I was thinking in the morning Saturday because the sanctuary is much brighter in the morning.”

We walked to the church next door and I was shown the sanctuary and where he would like the picture in his pulpit. I could see the light from the windows would really be nice if it was a sunny morning. I told him I’d see him at eleven Saturday.

“Do you ever go to church on Saturday morning?” I asked Judy when we met for biology Thursday.

“Um ... Sometimes. Why?”

“I was wondering if you’d sort of escort me Saturday. Father Emory wants me to take his picture in the pulpit after mass.”

“Really? Does he want a nude?”

“Judy!”

“Okay. Sure. Saturday morning mass isn’t as formal as Sunday. That’s why some of the kids go then. We don’t need to dress any better than going to school.”

“That’s good to know. I’ll stop by your house and walk there in time for church.”

Friday night, Anna and I went to the first basketball game of the season. The B-team played at six and the varsity at seven-thirty. Of course, I was officially there to take pictures, but it was the first game of the season and I was more interested in finding out where I could get good shots while enjoying the game and my date.

We held hands through most of the game and Anna pointed out things I should take a picture of. I wasn’t doing very well, but she told me I needed to get down on the floor during halftime and take a picture of the cheerleaders. I got in position and they did a routine that really had a nice flair to it. One ended in splits in front while a tall elegant girl caught the hand of a girl stepping up on her knee and was held steady by the hand of the fourth cheerleader pulling her the other direction. They were in perfect light and I was happy to catch that photo. I thanked Anna repeatedly. I hoped someone knew the names of the four cheerleaders when I developed the photo. Three of them were seniors and I only knew the name of the girl in my class, Ronda May. I had no idea who the other three were.

There was a sock hop after the game and we stayed until it was over at eleven. I walked Anna home, holding her hand. I really wanted to kiss her goodnight. We’d been dancing close together all evening. But she slipped inside and said, “See you Monday.”

I walked home.

Saturday morning, I got up and dressed in school clothes.

“Mom, I need to put off doing laundry until later in the day,” I said. “I’m going over to the Catholic Church. Father Emory wants me to take a publicity picture for him after mass. I’ll do laundry as soon as I get back.”

“Okay, dear. Please say to hello to the Reverend Father for me.”

I kind of chuckled as I left and walked over to Judy’s house. She was ready to go and had a demure little beige dress and a jacket on with a pair of black Mary Janes. She looked quite sweet and innocent, though I thought the dress was a little shorter than was allowed in school. I was fine with that.

“Thanks for escorting me to your church. I’d just feel funny if I walked in alone and didn’t know how to do anything.”

“Well, just remember you aren’t Catholic, so you can’t take communion. Saturday mornings, Father uses the new mass in English. He still uses the Latin mass on Sunday morning.”

“There must be a ton of Catholics to have so many services and a private cemetery.”

“Not really any more than any of the other churches, I don’t think. We just live under threat of excommunication if we don’t do as we’re told.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Yes. Don’t try to cross yourself during the service. Protestants always get it wrong.”

We went into the service and it was pretty much the same as a Methodist service. Stand up, sit down, stand up. Then something new to me. They had a kneeling bench between the pews and knelt there during the prayers. Of course, everyone went forward to take communion except the little kids and me.

“Judy, is this your boyfriend?” a woman asked as we stood while people left.

“No, Mrs. Simpson. Nate’s a classmate of mine and he’s just here to take a picture of Father Emory,” Judy answered.

“Well, he looks like a nice boy. Might want to think about that.” She smiled at me and I sort of nodded.

Fortunately, no one else stopped us as we made our way to the front of the church. I looked for a good vantage from which to shoot the priest. His pulpit was up higher and if he wanted the photo there, I’d be looking up his nostrils or it would be like he was glowering down on me from above.

“What’s up there?” I asked pointing at a kind of balcony on one side.

“Oh, that’s a choir loft, or used to be,” Judy said. “I guess the plan was that there would be a whole religious community that sat there and sang and chanted and stuff. It’s just used for storage now.”

I convinced Judy to show it to me. It was just a little above the pulpit level and I sighted through my camera lens.

“Nate? Are you here?” I heard Father Emory’s voice.

“In the choir loft, Father. This is a good angle to get you in the pulpit if that’s what you would like,” I called down. He looked up at me.

“Yes, yes. Let’s try that. I thought perhaps you’d get one more straight on with the altar behind me.”

“We’ll do that one, too. As long as I’m up here, let’s get this one first.”

He mounted the pulpit and took several different poses as if he were a much more expressive preacher than what I’d seen. I ran through a bunch of lens settings trying for different effects. Then I came down stairs.

“Judy? Were you up there with this young man?”

“Yes, Father. He asked me to show him the loft so he could take your picture there. I didn’t think he should just be climbing around the church without someone in attendance,” she said.

“Oh. Yes, well that’s good thinking, I guess.”

“Now, Father, how about you standing just over here. The stained glass behind you is lovely, but I’m not sure exactly how well it will register in black and white. If I use a red filter, I can increase the contrast a bit. Shall we try?”

The priest was really a good-looking guy. I thought the photos were pretty good. I even got his permission to go up into the pulpit to get a slight angle down on him with the light from the stained glass on his face. That was pretty cool. While I was up there, I saw the typewritten pages of everything that had been done in church.

“Do you read the whole service?” I asked. I didn’t think about it being rude. Mom usually had a page of notes and spoke extemporaneously. Of course, she practiced a lot on Saturday while Father Emory was actually in the pulpit.

“Oh, yes. It’s so easy to forget a little something—especially if I’m doing it in Latin. It was the way we were taught in seminary and I never broke myself of the habit. You know there’s a story about a priest who became so dependent on his notes that he couldn’t speak without them,” he said. Oh boy. I was in for another priest joke. “He called the pages the leaves of his text and he always positioned them on the pulpit before the service began in the morning. It was a warm day and the church had windows open and fans blowing to cool off the sanctuary. Unfortunately, it blew his leaves all over and a helpful young lad gathered them all up and placed them back on the pulpit. The priest began his homily and was doing well when he said, ‘And Adam said to Eve... ‘ He turned to the next page and sighed, ‘Oh, dear. There seems to be a leaf missing.’ I’m told that was the closing chapter of his ministry.”

I laughed. Yeah. It was pretty funny. I told him I’d get these processed and bring prints to him on Wednesday.

Judy and I left. I was just going to walk her home and then head home to do the laundry, but she nudged me toward the studio.

“Why don’t you take a picture of me in my church clothes?” she asked.

“Oh. Sure. We can’t spend a lot of time, but we should be able to get a few.” I thought the dress she was wearing was a little nicer than what kids usually wore to school. And it stopped about four inches above her knees. Nice legs.

I opened the door to the studio and Judy went straight to work. She obviously had an idea of what she wanted and I was pleased to see her working to get it right. She set the bench where she wanted it and took a fake plant to the end of it. Then she dragged the little table next to it with a flower in a vase, and put a piece of picket fence behind it. Seeing the kind of scene she was setting up, I dropped the blue backdrop behind her. I really needed to improve the rolling and unrolling of the backdrops or I’d have the edges torn to pieces. She stepped back to look at it and pronounced the setting good. She seated herself on the bench and I set the lights for a nice pastoral scene.

I took a picture, and she shifted positions. Then I snapped the shutter and she changed again. After the third position, I realized she was telling a story. By the eighth frame, she had her feet up on the bench and was leaning on the table. The vase of flowers was tipped over. Then she slipped down further and lay her head on her arms.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“That was a beautiful story and I think I captured every pose. What inspired you?”

“What you said when we first met, that you try to tell a story for each photo. I got to thinking about it when I was working on our creative writing assignment and wrote a little story about a girl who was supposed to meet her lover at a park café but he never shows up, no matter how long she waits. I thought you could tell the story with pictures.”

“That was a beautiful idea, Judy. Let’s just leave everything here. I need to get home for my Saturday chores. I’ll try to get the film processed tonight.” We headed for the door and Judy seemed very happy.

“And I didn’t have to get naked or anything,” she whispered as she left.

I got the film processed that night, but didn’t get anything printed until Sunday afternoon. I had three really excellent shots of Father Emory, one that I cropped to just a head shot, one in the pulpit, and one kind of three quarters front looking out at the sanctuary. The pulpit shot showed him down to his chest. The three-quarter profile showed his vestments all the way to the floor. I needed to get a model release from him in exchange for the sitting and then sell him the prints. I thought I could display one of his pictures on my gallery wall.

Then I worked on Judy’s story photos. It took me some time to get the exposure, timing, and filter correct for it. I think I printed half a dozen test sheets. Then I started printing the photos the way I thought they would best tell the story. I had only used the diffuse light from the overheads and one of the mini theatre lights focused on her face. It had a really soft tone to it. I was able to make the background go from fairly sharp in the first picture to fading as we came to the end of the scene. It was definitely a cool set and I printed one for Judy as well.