Ыоуве Been Warned   ::   Patterson James

Chapter 57



MAYBE THE CAMERA JOSTLED in my bag, triggering the shutter. It could happen. Especially these days.

But there’s another possibility…

The thought immediately spins me around. Now I’m walking in the opposite direction.

Out comes my cell phone again, and I call Penley. Actually, I call her answering machine, since I know she’s still at the gym. Not that she’d pick up anyway.

A filling just fell out, I explain. Luckily, my dentist can take me right away. “Don’t worry, I’ll be done in plenty of time to pick up the kids at three.”

That takes care of that. Next stop: my darkroom.

I’ve never burned an entire roll of film for only one picture, but if there’s going to be a first time, this is definitely it.

I have to see 1.

Right before Sean called out last night, I had Michael lined up in my lens. Maybe -just maybe – I managed to get the shot without even knowing it.

The desire to find out takes over, and I’m quickly hailing a cab in lieu of walking. I’m riding another wave of adrenaline, my mind and body oblivious to the fact that I’ve been awake for over twenty-four hours. And counting.

“Keep the change,” I tell the cabbie, dropping seven bucks in his lap as he pulls up to my building. Less than a minute later, I’m alone in my darkroom, the main light out and the door closed. The safety is on and everything is eerily red in the small room.

I’m getting pretty good at speed developing lately, and with this roll of film, I set a new record. My eyes and hands are in complete sync – reaching, pouring, setting, shifting – everything it takes to bring this one picture to life.

What if it’s not Michael?

It could be anything, really. Maybe it’s Penley. Or nothing at all.

A blur, a blob, or complete blackness. Perhaps all I’ve got is a glitch in the camera’s shot counter, and this supposed picture doesn’t even exist.

If that’s the case, I’ll have to be patient. I’ll wait until tomorrow night when Michael and I are together and snap a shot of him then. After all, it’s only another day to wait.

I glare at the processing tank. “Hurry up, you lazy-ass film!”

Then again, I’m not exactly in a patient mood.

I anxiously tap my fingers, waiting for the first sign of an image. Gradually, one appears.

I shift the negative over to the holding bath and lean in for a better view. It’s someone, but I can’t be sure who. So I hurriedly make a print, and that’s when I know.

It’s Michael, all right.