Chapter 6: Jane Says

A couple of days after leaving Aunt Beth the phone message, she finally called back. Fortuitously, I happened to answer.

“Hi, Matt. How are you? I got your call.”

“I’m doing good. Find anything?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.

“I did. You left a couple of rolls on the desk.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Cool. I thought maybe I lost them!”

“Do you want me to give them to Heather for you?”

“Uh, sure—actually, no, wait. Can you send them to me instead?” I winced, hoping she’d agree and leave it at that.

“I can put them in the mail early next week. Is that soon enough?”

“That’d be fine, no hurry. Thanks.”

“Of course, Matt. So, you must be getting ready for school, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, with even less excitement in my voice than I thought I was putting in. “Last weekend of break, and then we start.”

“At least it’s a long weekend,” my aunt consoled. “Is Melissa there?”

“Sure, hold on.”

After delivering the phone to my mom, I migrated into Lara’s room. She was finally unpacking her bags from Montauk. A slightly unpleasant aroma hung in the air.

“Out of clothes?” I asked, plopping down on her bed.

She just shot me a disapproving look as she sorted through her garments.

“That was Aunt Beth,” I continued. “She found the film.”

“Well aren’t you a lucky shit!”

“Tell me about it! She’s going to send them to me.”

“Then what?”

“Hopefully I can develop them sometime in photography class. Sneak it in, somehow. I don’t know.”

“So you’re taking photography?”

“Yeah, Mom called the school and they put me in.”

“Nice.”

“Or maybe I’ll build a darkroom up in the guest cabin,” I mused. “Whatever, at least I have them back. I’ll sleep better now, if nothing else.”

Lara pulled a wrinkly shirt out of one bag, gingerly sniffing it. She made a face as she recoiled. “Ugh. Should’ve unpacked a few weeks ago.” She dropped the offender on a growing pile of clothes as I sniggered.

“That rank, huh?”

She grimaced. “I forgot I had my wet bathing suit in here. It got musty and kind of infected everything else.”

I just laughed. Even though the foul odor had diffused in my direction, I was feeling happy and relaxed for the first time in several days.

“Are you going to let me see the pictures when you print them?” she asked.

“Sorry, I don’t think so. Some things I just won’t share with you.”

Lara looked at me, smiling wistfully.

The first day of school was the usual bore: syllabi, textbooks, and general discomposure at being around people I had mostly and gladly forgotten. The one bright spot was photography class, which was scheduled for last period on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On my way there, I passed Lara at her locker.

“What’s up?” I asked, leaning against the row of metal doors.

She shrugged. “Same old. You?”

“Three more days until the weekend,” I yawned.

“That good, huh? Matt, it’s the first freaking day!”

“I know, brutal. But I have photography now. That should be cool, at least.”

“Where’s your camera?” Lara asked, eyeing my backpack.

I shrugged. “I didn’t bring it. I don’t know if I’ll need it.”

“Okay, move.”

I peered into her locker, halting the door with my arm as she swung it closed. After a brief inspection, I nodded. “Wow! Clean!”

Lara grinned. “And I’m keeping it that way.”

“Whatever,” I said, sniggering. “If you don’t find any rotten pears in it this year, it’ll be a victory!”

Lara whacked my chest. “I didn’t know it fell out of my lunch bag!”

“Until it started to smell up the whole hallway.”

“Not funny,” she admonished. “I had to pay for that one textbook.”

“You mean Mom had to pay for it.”

“Hey, Matt!” Pete called.

He was approaching through the streams of students. Then he saw Lara, who had been partially hidden behind her locker door.

“Oh, uh, hey. What’s up?” he added.

“Nothing, Pete,” Lara replied, smiling sweetly at him.

I almost rolled my eyes, seeing the look in hers. Pete took a step back and shifted his glance around.

“What’s up, Pete?” I asked, saving him from turning any redder.

“Um...” There was a moment of thought on his part, and then he scowled. “I forgot what I was going to tell you.”

Lara giggled.

“Oh well,” he finally managed. “I’ll see you on the bus. Maybe I’ll have it by then.”

Lara watched him disappear into the throng of kids. “He’s kind of cute,” she murmured, half to herself.

“Yeah, yeah.”

She winked at me as she slammed her locker shut. “See ya!”

It took a few minutes to find the photography studio in the basement. The class of twelve was an assortment of kids from various grades. I didn’t know anyone well enough to sit next to them, so I chose the first space that was open. The teacher disregarded the starting bell, meandering around the classroom instead, collecting little piles here and there. A few minutes later she seemed placated and turned to us.

“I assume everyone is here for photography?” Her voice was very soft and quiet. I couldn’t tell if it was stern, dispassionate, or what.

Once the universal murmurs dissipated, she spoke again.

“Good. A show of hands, please: Who here has ever taken photos?”

We all glanced at each other, smirking a little at the obvious question. Of course, everyone raised their arm.

“Who here has used a manual camera, similar to this one?” she asked, holding up an SLR.

Only a few people, including me. She scanned this smaller group.

“Developed their own film?”

One blonde girl’s hand was left in the air.

“Show their work in a gallery?”

The last hand lowered and everyone tittered.

“I always hope that one day someone will still have their hand up,” the diminutive woman said, smiling warmly at us as she let go of the formalities. “Welcome. My name is Ms. Rawlings. You may call me that, or Jane. As you wish. I’m rather informal, at least down here in the basement.”

I liked Jane already. Or was it Ms. Rawlings? I wasn’t sure what I’d call her yet.

For the first time that day, I had my full attention on my class. After dispensing the necessary course information, Ms. Rawlings ran over some basics. Even though I knew most of it – from Heather, I realized – it was still fascinating to hear about the pathway of light and how we would be trying to control it.

After class, I approached her. “Uh, Ms. Rawlings?”

“Yes?”

“I have a bunch of old cameras that were my dad’s.”

“Interesting. Is he a photographer?”

I followed her around the room as she put away some of the items she’d used during the lesson. “No, not professionally. But he did do his own developing, I think. He, uh, died when I was young.”

She took a momentary pause in her work to size me up. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Is there a particular camera that would be better to use?”

“What have you been using to take your pictures?”

For a second I wondered how she knew that I was doing any photography. Then I remembered the survey at the beginning of class.

“A Nikon SLR.”

“That will do.”

“I’m interested in learning about some of the other ones, too. Can I bring them in for you to look at?”

“Of course you can,” she said, ever in that rich, quiet tone of hers. Finished with cleaning the blackboard, she turned and smiled at me.

“Okay, I’ll see you Thursday,” I said.

“Yes, Thursday.” She nodded, already onto something else.

I watched her, trying to reconcile the flurry of activity with the otherworldly voice. It was almost as if her body and mind were independent. It was going to be an interesting class, something to look forward to. That wouldn’t help me on the other three days of the week, but it was the best I had.

The bus ride home was the same as the bus ride to school that morning, which was the same as the bus ride home last spring. Brian, Carl, Pete and I secured our seats in the rear. A couple of upstart freshman children had to be set straight by Brian, but eventually order was restored and we were perched in the corners. Carl started with the complaints first. We took turns skewering the different professors, bemoaning the few assignments we’d already received.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Elaine?” Carl asked Brian, as the bus roared away from the curb.

“Nope. Cheerleading meeting, or something.”

“Nice.”

“How was hanging out at her house?” Pete asked.

Carl laughed preemptively, apparently in on the story already.

“Last week? A total bust, man,” Brian lamented. “Her brother walked into her room when we were fooling around. Completely freaked out. I had to give him another twenty bucks just to get him to shut the fuck up and go away.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, and then Elaine was all wigged out and worried he was going to tattle on her, so she made me leave.”

“Did the kid tell?”

“No, I don’t think so. Everything’s cool now.”

“Until he wants more money,” I quipped.

“Yeah, seriously, right?” Bri laughed. “I didn’t work all summer long mowing lawns so this twerp could be on the dole. Fucking kid’s like ten and still carries around a teddy bear.”

“Hey, he’s making more money than we are, at this rate,” Pete observed. “Maybe he’s onto something.”

“True,” agreed Carl. “I have to find some cash, or I won’t be skiing much this winter.”

“Really? What’s up with that?” Brian asked.

“I don’t know. My mom’s all like, ‘Now that you’re sixteen, you need to get a job.’ I’m going to talk to our neighbor about clearing her old barn that collapsed. And I’ll probably be shoveling driveways all winter.”

“What’s your mom talking about?” I asked. “You’re not even sixteen yet.”

“I will be by the time skiing season rolls around. She said she’d pay for half of a season pass this year.”

“Oh man, that’s a lot of shoveling,” I said.

“Yeah, tell me about it. Fucking A. Plus I need new ski boots.”

“Birthday, man,” Bruno suggested.

“Nah, I already asked for a new snare drum.”

“Really?” I asked. “When are you getting that?”

“Soon, I hope. It’s not a surprise. I think we have one more payment, then I can pick it up.”

“Cool! That’ll be sweet.”

“Yeah, it’s a little thinner than the one I got now.”

“We should get together and jam again this weekend,” Pete suggested.

“Saturday at my place,” I offered.

Wednesday dragged on as sluggishly as possible; Thursday was even slower. I took a couple of my dad’s cameras to school to show Ms. Rawlings, but ninth period always seemed to be months away. When it arrived at last, I carefully removed the bag from my locker and headed for the basement. Although I was eager to hear what she’d have to say about the gear, I had to wait until after class. She was just starting the day’s tutorial as I settled into my chair.

“Let’s look at some photographs. Here we have a nice one of our very own parking lot,” she said, holding up an eight-by-ten black-and-white glossy. “Same scene,” she continued, flipping to another. “And again ... Differences?”

“That white car isn’t there anymore in the third one?” one kid suggested tentatively.

“True,” Ms. Rawlings agreed. “But I meant technical differences. Of course they were taken a few minutes apart. But that’s not what I’m speaking about. Here, take a closer look.” She handed the photos to the nearest student.

When they reached me a moment later, I grinned. I immediately thought back to the pier when Heather had taught me this very lesson with an old fishing bucket.

“The apertures were set different,” I announced confidently.

Ms. Rawlings turned her steady gaze to me. Her eyes matched her soft voice, not her constantly moving body. They calmly seemed to size me up. “How so?”

I kept my excitement in check, working through the memory to make sure I got it right. “In this one, the aperture was on a low number, but the shutter was fast. The opposite for this one.”

“Yes, yes,” she murmured. Then she swung around and gestured to the class. “Does everyone know what he’s speaking about?”

Only a few people nodded. Others shook their head or remained unreadable.

“Let’s back up a step. Your name is?”