Chapter 9: To Match the Sun

Mercifully, the days started to go faster. Between band rehearsals, the photo project, and general homework and chores, the day of Heather’s visit started to feel real.

Randi and her friend Mina showed up at the next practice. Ever since Pete and Lara had hooked up, Bruno and Carl were much more interested in their part-time girlfriends. I wondered if it was a reaction to Brian’s recent observation about their lack of female companionship. Although at first it was fun having the pair of girls watch us jam, it soon became a distraction. The rhythm section had its attention elsewhere for most of the rehearsal. The persistent talking and giggling from the couch didn’t help either.

“The auditions are in less than two weeks,” I announced, upon reaching my seat on the bus the following Monday.

“Don’t tell me you’re freaking out,” Carl said.

“No, but if you two don’t get your shit together, we’re going to suck more than we already do.”

Bruno and Carl looked at each other with a frown.

“Us two?” Carl protested. “What did we do?”

“Me and Pete spent half the rehearsal watching you two act like idiots.”

Bruno squinted at me. “Because of the girls? We were just having a good time!”

“Chill, Matt,” Carl dismissed. “We’re fine.”

“Yeah,” Bruno agreed. “Besides, it’s just an audition for a little school show. No big deal.”

I looked at Pete, but he just shrugged.

“Well, I don’t want to suck,” I said simply.

Carl eyed me. “You seem pretty serious on this all of a sudden.”

“I really want to play the show in December.”

“Is your girl coming up? Is that why?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know if she is. It’s not that. I just want to sound good, you know?”

“You guys are decent,” Brian offered. “I’m sure you’ll get in. Just pick a good song.”

The conversation turned elsewhere, so I gave up. I wondered if I was the only one being serious about the band.

For my Initials project, I’d photographed five different scenes spread over two rolls of film. But I was also growing less convinced about my first set from the bathroom. My other shots had some element of a couple, whether overtly like Pete and Lara’s walking image, or implied as in the cafeteria setup with the dual straws in the soda cup. However, the picture of the rusted initials didn’t really fit. I’d taken it from a very close up position, without any context that it was even taken in the school. One-dimensional, I realized.

The other scenes were in keeping with the theme. I’d found a network of exposed and weathered tree roots that had a number of initials carved in it. Some were old and almost healed over by the growth of bark, others more recent, even showing white sapwood in one case. I chose one of the older sets to focus on. I had Lara write ‘To R.S.’ within a drawn heart on a folded piece of paper, in the most feminine handwriting she could muster. I wedged it into the craggy bark near the matching letters carved on the root, and that was the composition.

The final photo had been Lara’s idea. One day on our bus ride home, she’d indicated a set of initials that had been gouged into the vinyl fabric of one seat back.

“But they’re crossed out,” I pointed out.

Lara slid into the seat, putting her head down in her hands, a picture of despair.

“You’re awesome,” I said, laughing at her imagination.

She sat up and grinned. “You’re welcome.”

The next morning we’d lucked out and gotten the same bus, so we set up the shot. Lara took her pose, gripping a ballpoint pen in one fist for added effect. It was a bit demanding considering the ride bounced up and down unpredictably. It didn’t help that the shoot also drew the attention of half the school kids. I had to hope that at least one frame had been steady enough to capture the detail of the scraped-out letters.

The bathroom initials were still bothering me, though. I’d picked Thursday at lunch to meet with Ms. Rawlings to develop my pictures, so I had less than two days to decide what to do. I decided to call Heather to see what she thought. As I rang, I wondered if the phone bill was going to be acceptable. I seemed to be talking to her much more than I’d outlined with my parents when I agreed to exchange some housework for the calls. With a handset in my room, they probably weren’t aware of how often I reached for it.

Before I could ponder this any further, Heather answered. After exchanging a greeting and an excited reminder of the remaining days – eleven – I told her of my situation.

“Yeah, I think it’s probably going to be out of place,” she agreed. “Can you take it again? Wider angle lens?”

“I could. It was kind of tight, but maybe I can get the door handle in, or something. But it still doesn’t really go with the couple theme.”

“You know,” Heather said, mischief creeping into her voice, “you could have Lara and Pete kissing in the background. Maybe just the edge of their bodies, you know? Hugging?”

I let out a sniff. “That might be a bit over the top for a high school project, don’t you think?”

“No. It’s for art’s sake, right?”

I considered, but had to reject the idea. “No, I can’t do that. That’s a little too ... something. My other shots are more tame. The straws, the note, it’s not so raunchy. You know, high school stuff.”

“People make out in the bathrooms,” Heather pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess. But still.”

“It’s going to be hard to do anything legit with a couple in the boy’s bathroom. Too bad you nixed the penis idea. That would’ve been interesting.”

“Pfft.”

“What if you photograph someone carving the initials?”

“Thought about it. But they’re old and rusty.”

“Maybe a second, newer set, right next to it? Same letters?”

“Maybe.”

“Have you done any with our initials?” she asked.

“No.”

“You could always do that.”

I could. But where? And how? That was much more personal than these other shots. I had no idea who R.S. and the others were. I didn’t even know if they were male or female. If I did my own set, would people realize it, since I had three initials to my name? I could just go with M.J.

“It’d be kind of cool to see if anyone notices,” Heather said, seeming to read my thoughts.

“It would,” I agreed. An idea began to shape up.

“So?”

“I’m thinking.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Heather laughed, but didn’t try to press me on it.

That night, I visited Lara, once again calling on her services as a model. She jumped at the chance.

“What about Pete?”

“Just you.”

“Another heartbreak shot?”

“No, not at all.” I considered. “Then again, maybe Pete should come.”

“Cool. What should I wear?”

“Uh, no dress this time.”

“Ooh, just bra and underwear?” Lara teased. “Are we skinny dipping?”

I sighed patiently. “Not unless you want to scare Pete to death. I meant wear jeans or pants.”

“Oh, okay. What exactly are we doing?”

“You’ll see.”

The next afternoon, I led my two models out to an old playground that was a remnant from older times when the high school housed younger students. The slide was hopelessly rusted, but the wooden-seated swings were still sturdy despite the shrieking chains that held them suspended above the weedy sand.

“What do we do?” Pete asked expectantly.

“Swing.”

I directed Pete to sit on one of the swings, Lara on the other.

“You mean we don’t get to touch each other?” Lara protested, as she tried to sit on Pete’s lap instead.

I just gave her a look.

“Where are the initials?” she asked, glancing at the metal posts.

I flipped her seat over. On the underside, a pair of initials with a plus sign was freshly carved.

“How the hell did you ever find—” She stopped when she read the actual letters. “Oh, I get it! But why here, under a swing seat?”

“Just seemed like an appropriate place to put them,” I said mysteriously, remembering a different time and location.

Lara ruined my fond memory with, “Um, how is under my butt an appropriate place?”

I rolled my eyes while Pete laughed. “Just start swinging. I’m not even sure if this is going to work.”

They took their places and started to glide through the air. I moved the tripod around in front of Lara, excited to see the afternoon light picking up the edge of the carving I’d made at lunch with my fishing knife. This might just work, I thought, once the sun gets a little lower. I lowered the tripod to get a steeper angle.

“Okay, Pete, I need you to move opposite from Lara, so that you’re back there when she’s up here.”

He kicked up some sand to slow down and then pumped his legs again. Soon he was in the right place relative to Lara.

I set the shutter speed to 1000, hoping it would be fast enough to stop the motion. As long as I shot close to the apex of her swing, and as long as Pete was coming forward from his, and as long as the sun was just right, and ... Good thing I had a fresh roll loaded up!

I had them stop once everything was to my liking. After having Lara hold the swing in the air so I could fine tune the focus, we sat around waiting for my lighting crew to move the sun a little more toward the horizon. After twenty minutes of chat, I had them mount their swings again. The light was perfect. The letters would be well-illuminated as long as Lara went high enough. I made some adjustments to my position, corrected her swing relative to Pete’s with a couple of pushes, and then things seemed to lock into place. Thankful for the instant response of a manual shutter, I found that timing the release was easier than I thought.

After snapping a few, I said, “Lara, maybe lean back and look at Pete when you’re at the top here.”

That’s it! Lara’s long hair flew in the breeze as she stretched herself out, looking away from the camera. I snapped at each pass until the film advance lever tightened up.

“All right, that’s it,” I called out. “Thanks.”

As I was packing up, Lara spoke. “What time is Mom getting us?”

“At five.”

“Forty-five minutes,” Pete said, checking his watch.

“We’ll be back by then,” Lara told me.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Just for a walk!” she chirped innocently.

They headed off for the woods, arm in arm. I gathered my gear and returned to the school, wishing that I didn’t have to wait so long for Heather to come.

The next day, I met Ms. Rawlings in the darkroom.

“Feel confident working the film?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Go ahead then.”

I set my three rolls down on the counter.

“Are you developing all of those?”

I looked at her sheepishly. “I kind of took a lot of pictures.”

“Where did you get the extra film?”

“I bought them. They’re the same type as the one you gave us.”

“You’ll need more time than this lunch period then.”

“Can I come back after school?”

“Shannon is going to be here. Hmm. I can run them this afternoon for you.”

“Um, okay.”

“You can do one of them now. I already mixed the developer to the right strength, so go ahead.”

I started the process of developing the film, checking the temperature of the solution. “Twenty point five degrees is what we want, right?”

Ms. Rawlings murmured an affirmative, so I switched off the lights to take the film out of the roll and load it onto the spiral reel. I confirmed one of the steps with her, but I’d practiced the process enough times with my eyes closed to have a feel for it, even in the pitch black of the darkroom. Once the developing tank was sealed up, I flipped on the lights.

“So far so good?” Ms. Rawlings asked. She couldn’t see what I had done, of course.

“I think so.”

I checked the developing solution’s temperature once more and then poured the proper amount through the hole in the tank cover.

“What is your project theme?”

“I guess it’s called Initials.”

“Initials? Hmm. Interesting title.”

I inverted the tank to agitate it, keeping an eye on the timer.

“Air bubbles?” she reminded me.

I banged the container against the counter. “Thanks.”

The time crept by. I shook it every thirty seconds.

“I had some people in the shots,” I said. “Hope it’s okay. They aren’t the main subject, but...”

“Don’t worry about it too much, Matt.”

Once the timer reached zero, I poured off the developer and continued with the process. It all felt very natural. We’d practiced in class several times, of course, but I was surprised at how smooth things were going.

After a short period in water to remove the developer, I added the fixing solution, agitating again. Finally I opened the tank and set it under the faucet to rinse.

“Looks good, Matt. Do you have class now?”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Yeah, I guess I do.” The time had gone faster than I thought.

“I’ll set these out to dry when they’re ready. I’ll run your other two rolls, too. You should be able to look through the negatives after class today.”

I thanked her and headed off, somewhat disappointed that I couldn’t finish my own developing. The idea of setting up a darkroom in the guest cabin grew more appealing by the day.

“How did your negatives turn out?” Heather asked me that night.

“I think there’s some good ones. It’s so hard to tell, though, when the black and white parts are inverted. Things look a little alien.”

“Yeah, I know. Eventually it gets easier to imagine the final product. When do you print?”

“We learned how to operate the enlarger in class today. Next week we’ll go over the developing process for the prints, and then we’ll process from our own negatives.”

“Just in time for me to see them!”

“Yeah. Things are going to be busy. The talent show auditions are on Thursday, plus I have a paper to write for English.”

“I hope you won’t be too tired to hang out with me,” Heather said sadly.

I laughed. “It would take way more than that!”

“Good. I want to spend lots of time out in the woods.”

“Hiking?”

“And fishing. And other things, maybe.”

“Like?”

“We’ll just have to see what happens!”

Reluctantly, I said goodbye. If I was going to have a homework-free weekend with Heather, I was going to need all the time I could get in the coming week.

“You know, we need a better band name by this Thursday,” Bruno announced at rehearsal that weekend as we were setting up our gear.

“True,” Carl agreed. “Any ideas?”

“Nah. Everything I think of is stupid,” Bruno lamented.

We spent some time tossing out possibilities, but we did no better than Bruno admitted to doing. Fortunately Randi and Mina had not arrived yet, or we would have certainly wasted two silly hours on the topic.

“Something will come up,” I finally said, growing tired of the increasingly ridiculous constructions Carl was proposing. “So what are we going to play? We still haven’t decided. We need to pick our best song for this thing.”

“I say we do Dazed,” Carl offered.

Bruno shook his head. “No way.”

“Why not? That’s a great song. Everyone loves Zep.”

“We just don’t have it yet. Let’s do Sunshine of Your Love.”

Pete nodded. “That’s definitely our best one right now.”

Carl considered, eventually agreeing with a nod. “Okay, that’ll work too.”

“What should we play if we make the cut?” Pete asked.

“One thing at a time,” Bruno countered. “Let’s get through the tryouts.”

“I really want to learn a song or two from that album I played for you a few weeks ago,” I said. “Not for the audition obviously, but maybe for the show.”

The guys seemed generally favorable to that idea. Then I found out what Heather’s newest ‘girl’ nickname was.

“How are things with nude girl?” Carl asked me.

“Nude girl?”

He grinned. “The one in the pictures that Pete got to see and we didn’t because you’re unfair.”

“I showed you some pics. And her name is Heather.”

“I know, and I was just kidding. Is she still coming up next weekend?”

“Yup.”

“Do we get to meet her?” Bruno asked.

“She’s not here for long, but maybe we can hang out for a bit. So you guys are cool with learning a song or two from the album?” I asked, returning to the original subject. “The first track would be really fun. Here, check out the riff.”

I played a few bars of it for them.

“That’s sweet, man,” Bruno said. “Make us some copies or something, so we can learn it.”

“Copies of the nude pics, too!” Carl chimed in, and we all laughed.

Bruno sighed after a moment, however. “Who’s going to sing, though?”

“Well, you,” I replied, surprised at the question.

“I can’t sing that high.”

“What are you talking about? It isn’t any higher than the Zep stuff we play,” Pete said.

Bruno slumped back on the couch. “Yeah, and I can’t really sing that either.”

“Yeah, you can.”

“No. I listened to that tape we recorded at the last rehearsal, and I suck.”

“You don’t suck, man. It was just a bad recording.”

He shrugged. “I mean, mostly I just want to play bass.”

“You don’t want to sing?” I asked.

“I’ll do it, but I’d rather just jam on the bass. Why don’t you sing?” he asked me.