by Vicki Tharp
Friends. Yeah. How could she forget?
6
The carnival was in full swing by the time Ian paid their entry and bought a string of tickets for rides and games. Multicolor lights flashed, kids screamed, couples laughed, and teens stole kisses in the dark.
To his credit, he only stopped one time to take a picture on the way to the food stands. Of all the pictures he’d taken that night, excluding the photos he’d taken of Cora and Panache in the barn, developing that picture excited him the most. In the foreground, he’d framed a crying kid, with an empty cone and a blob of ice cream in the dirt, in mid-field, a man handing his girlfriend a prize, and in the background the Ferris wheel, with the silhouette of two teens kissing at the top.
Everything a carnival should be in one picture.
“Sorry,” he said as he straightened and capped his lens.
Cora cocked her head and smiled at him as if something inside her brain had clicked into place. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”
“No. I’d say it was in my blood, but I’m the only photographer in the family. My mother gave me my first camera for my birthday when I was only eight. My Da about lost his shit. Said we didn’t have the money to blow like that, but my mother refused to take it back.”
They took their spot at the back of the food line to wait their turn. “You’ve stuck with photography ever since?”
“I did, mostly. For a kid, film was expensive, and no way would my dad spend any money on it. I did odd jobs like sweeping sidewalks to buy my own film. I even taught myself how to develop it to save money. By not having money to waste, it also made me more careful of my shots. In my mind, every shot had to count.”
“So, you knew from the start you were destined to do this as a career?”
“Not even.” The people in front of them got their food and moved out of the way. Ian and Cora placed their orders. “I didn’t look at it as anything other than a hobby, until a picture in a magazine changed my view of the world.”
Cora tossed him a skeptical look. “One picture changed your whole world view?”
“One picture.” Ian took their food and thanked the attendant. Cora grabbed the beers and they weaved their way through the picnic tables until they found an empty one. They set their food and drinks down, and Cora tossed a couple of empty cups that had been left behind into a nearby garbage can.
Not wasting any time, Cora squirted on the ketchup and stuffed the end of the hot dog into her mouth. She’d worked her way through about a third of it when she washed the bite down with a swig of beer and said, “Someday, I’d like to see a picture that powerful.”
Ian froze, the cup of beer at his lips. He set the cup down. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”
“Of course not.”
Ian reached for his wallet, hesitated, then figured, what the fuck. He’d never told anyone about the photo, much less ever shown it to anyone. Not because it was a deep, dark secret, but because no one had been interested enough to ever ask.
Carefully, he withdrew the tattered magazine clipping from his wallet, unfolded it and held it out to her. She wiped her fingers and took it. He didn’t move around the table to look at it over her shoulder.
Over the years, he’d stared at that photo for hours and hours and still it had a visceral power over him. Much more than a gut check. More of a stripping of your heart from your chest, and your soul from your body, leaving you bleeding and raw and full of despair.
Cora gasped. “That poor boy...are...are those...”
Even today, all these years later, Ian had to clear his throat. “His parents. A tiny village in North Korea.” Ian knew the name of the village, but the name didn’t matter. In his mind, he saw the crumbling wall behind the blindfolded, knobby kneed boy with three rifles aimed at his head. The boy couldn’t have been any older than eight. The same age Ian had been when he’d received his first camera.
Maybe that’s why he’d identified with it so much. While his father and his brothers had picked on him, at least he had a roof over his head, food in his belly, shoes on his feet, and clothes that weren’t tattered and torn.
And no rifles aimed at his head.
“What happened?” Cora’s words sounded hollow as if the picture had drained her. He knew the feeling.
“The boy’s father had spoken out against the government, the story said. The family paid the price of their defiance with their lives, including the boy.”
“The boy...” Cora ran her finger down the stoic figure. “He has to know what’s happening, but he’s standing tall, his fists clenched, as if unwilling to give the soldiers the satisfaction of breaking him.” Cora handed the photo back to Ian, swiping moisture from her cheek. “It’s very powerful. I can see where it would have affected you.”
Ian carefully folded and replaced the article in his wallet. “It’s more than just what the picture represented. It was also the first time I realized that you could make a living with photography and that the work could matter. That you could impact other people’s lives as well as the whole world.
“I’ve followed the photographer’s, Edward Lark’s, career ever since. Kind of my mentor from afar. He used to work for the New York Times before he became a freelancer and traveled the world in search of stories. It’s one of the reasons why I want to win the magazine contest and the assignment. The winner will be paired with him for a time. It would be my chance to change the world, even if it is only one person at a time, the way Lark’s photograph did for me.”
He ducked his head as the heat climbed up his cheeks. Talk about running off at the mouth. He—
Ian got bumped from behind, and a cup full of ice landed in his face. Before he could even react, a man said, “We don’t like your kind around here.”
Ian thought about going after the guy, but this was a family place. He wasn’t going to get into a fight here. Not over something as insignificant as ice in the face. But Cora jumped up and he had to grab her arm and sit her back down.
“Let it go,” Ian said. “He’s not worth our time.”
“Are you kidding me?” Cora’s voice rose and the people who didn’t know anything had happened, now stared. “That asshole threw ice in your face. What did he mean about not liking your kind around here? Who was that?”
Ian grabbed a couple of the napkins off the table and dried off. “I have no idea.”
As much as he wanted the satisfaction of punching the smirk off the jackass’s face, doing so wouldn’t make the guy any less of a bigot. Besides, they were here to cheer Cora up, not get arrested for assault and battery.
“Ian,” Cora leaned forward, keeping her voice down so she wouldn’t draw any more attention. “What’s going on?”
He’d had every intention of talking to Cora about the rumor, but he hadn’t wanted to do it that night when she was already feeling bad. Unfortunately, one look at Cora’s face and he knew she wasn’t about to let it drop.
“There’s a rumor going around that I’m gay,” Ian said.
Cora’s hands flew to her mouth, covering her gasp. “That wasn’t...I didn’t...I...I’m so sorry, Ian.”
After what Silas had said, Ian already suspected the rumor had originated with Cora. His chest pinched. It hurt more than it should, having his suspicions confirmed. “Silas figured you girls owed me an apology. I guess he was right.”
“What does Silas have to do with this?”
Ian told her about the encounters behind the chutes, and about what Silas had determined based on what Josephine told him. Ian had still held out hope that Silas had been wrong.
Cora picked at her hot dog bun, the meat now long cold. “Why didn’t you say anything to me earlier?”
“What am I going to say? ‘Mommy, someone called me names and hurt my feelings?’”
Cora hid her face in her hands then peeked out from between her fingers. “You still should have said something to me. In my defense, it’s not like I went around the rodeo telling
everyone you were gay. Josephine and I were talking about it and I think Patty Bennett must have overheard. It wouldn’t be the first rumor she started. Besides, what business is it of anybody’s if you’re gay?”
“Cora,” he said. It took a few seconds for her to look at him. When he had her attention, he continued, “I’m not into men.”
“Shit.” She thumped her forehead on the picnic table. “That only makes it worse. Or does that make it better? I don’t even know anymore.” Her face fell, and her eyes glistened in the twinkling carnival lights. “I really am sorry, Ian.”
“Forget about it. It’ll all blow over in a few days.” In all honesty, he was more put out that she hadn’t finished her food. She needed to eat. He pointed to her hot dog. “Want me to buy you a hot one?”
She took a bite, tucked it into her cheek and said, “It’s fine. Don’t waste your money.”
When they’d finished, they walked the concourse, but Ian couldn’t reconcile why Cora had thought he wasn’t into women. “I don’t understand why you thought I was gay.”
“This is going to sound so stupid and self-centered.” Cora folded and refolded the string of tickets in her hand. She didn’t look at him when she said, “You never hit on me. You never tried to sneak a look when I changed clothes. Even when I was drunk, when you took me back to your place and had me in your bed, you didn’t make any lewd remarks or sly innuendos. Or slip in next to me in the middle of the night. Nothing.”
She stopped in the middle of a throng of people and looked at him. “Do you know how many times that has happened to me since I’ve hit puberty?”
The sea of people parted around them. Cora’s question seemed mostly rhetorical, but he said, “I’m gonna guess, not many.”
He took her elbow and guided her along, so they wouldn’t block traffic and piss anyone else off. He’d had enough of that for one day.
“You’d be correct. I told Josephine my suspicions, more as a joke than anything serious. I thought we were alone, but Patty was three stalls down and apparently she overheard, and Patty’s the last person you ever want to tell a secret to and, and, and...really, what was I supposed to think?” her voice ran the range from soft and apologetic to shrill and incredulous.
Ian guided them toward the games. They passed the shooting gallery and a dunk tank, the carnies talking it up, trying to part them from their money. “Maybe you were supposed to think that I don’t bed women when they’re drunk, that—”
She gave him a playful whack on the arm. “I wasn’t that drunk.”
He leaned in and said, “Sweetheart, I don’t know how things work in your little world, but in my world when a man doesn’t take advantage of a woman when she’s vulnerable, that makes him a gentleman, not gay.”
She stepped back. “Now you’re pissed.”
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got until he wasn’t sure why he tried to hide how he felt. What kind of men had she been dating that that kind of behavior had become the norm for her?
“I’m beyond pissed and have moved to furious.” Heat infused his cheeks and he felt that vessel thump at his temple. “Why would you put up with men who treated you that way? Why—”
“Wait. You’re not mad I thought you were gay. You’re mad about the way other men have treated me.”
“Yes.” He wanted to ring a bell and give her the biggest stuffed animal at the fair. “The gay thing will blow over. It’s the way you expect men to treat you is what needs to change. You deserve much better than that.”
Cora stood and stared at him as if she were looking at something she’d never seen before. Finally, she said, “You’re right.” Her voice cracked, and Ian had to lean in to hear her over the hoots and hollers of the crowd. “I’ve always expected the worst behavior from men because that’s what I’ve always known.” She raised up on her tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “You’re a good man, Ian Murphy. I should never have underestimated you.”
* * *
Two weeks, another thousand miles and several poor runs later, the light knock came on Cora’s trailer door at oh-god-it’s-too-early. Cora groaned and cracked open an eye. From her vantage point on the top bunk of Josephine’s trailer, she could see straight out the narrow front window. It was still dark.
Ian knocked again. She knew it was Ian because in a moment of sheer stupidity, she’d asked him to take her with him on one of his pre-dawn photo shoots, wanting to see more of the world through his eyes. The worst part? She couldn’t even claim she’d been drunk at the time.
“I know you’re in there,” Ian called out. “This was your idea, not mine.”
“For the love of Pete, let the man in.” Josephine’s whine came out muffled, her head still under the covers.
“Coming,” Cora said as she swung down from her bunk.
She dressed in record time, for once foregoing full makeup. Anyone who woke her this early, deserved what they got. She flipped the switch on the door lock and stuck her head out. The air was mild and muggy for a mid-November day but that’s what she loved about the Corpus Christi fairgrounds in the winter. “Almost ready.”
Ian turned toward her and awkwardly dug his hands into his pockets, as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands without his camera in them.
Cora stepped out of the trailer in her sock feet, carrying her boots and a hair tie. “Um...is there a reason you’re staring at me?” He really was cute when he was flustered. “Never seen a woman without makeup before?”
“Women, yes. You? No.” He glanced away, but as she slipped on her boots and tamed her unruly morning hair into a ponytail, his gaze kept returning to her.
Maybe she should have rethought that whole going without makeup thing. She’d have felt less exposed if she’d come out in her underwear. “Can you give me a sec? I just want to put on a little mascara and blush...and maybe a swipe or two of lipstick.”
Ian grabbed her by the arm before she could retreat inside. “You don’t have time. We’re going to miss the best light if we don’t leave now.”
In the end she got him to concede to a quick trip to the restroom, so she could pee and brush her teeth, but he’d been tapping his foot outside the women’s restroom the whole time. When she got out, she snagged the Mets baseball cap from his head and plopped it on hers.
He snatched it back, but instead of putting it on his head, he flipped the bill around backward and plunked it back down on hers. “That’s better.”
She preferred the bill in front. A little camouflage for her face at least. “Why’d you do that?”
“You have a beautiful face, Cora. I don’t understand why you’d want to hide it behind a layer of makeup or the bill of a cap.”
Her eyes met his, waiting for the punchline. There wasn’t one. Or maybe that was Ian’s way of hitting on her. Her face must have looked suspicious because he quickly added, “That’s a compliment, not a come-on.”
Of course, it wasn’t. Which stung. She tried to ignore it. After all, they were just friends, right? “Yeah. Okay.” She waved a hand in his general direction to get the focus off her. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Ian started back across the parking lot and she fell into step beside him as a streak of lighter gray appeared on the horizon. “The camera’s already in the truck.”
Truck? “Where are we going?”
“Can’t get this close to the beach and not take photos of the Gulf Coast at sunrise.”
They climbed into his truck and made the short drive to the beach. They pulled into a parking lot next to a filled-to-capacity RV park that catered to the snowbirds. But even with all the winter tourists, at that early hour, they had the beach to themselves.
Ian retrieved his Nikon, equipped with his wide-angle lens and slung his camera bag over his shoulder. Obviously, she’d been spending way too much time with him if she could recognize his different lenses on sight. Considering how her runs had gone lately, maybe she needed to concentrate more on her r
iding and less on a certain photographer.
She picked up his tripod. They’d only made it a short way up the beach before they shucked their boots and socks and rolled their pants up to their knees. The light breeze rolled the waves to shore in lazy, gentle sheets. Shorebirds pecked at the sand in the shallows, while a pair of pelicans glided by, the tips of their wings skimming the smooth surface of the water.
Cora splashed around in the ankle-deep water while Ian set up his camera and tripod. The low light made the water sparkle and shine as if someone had tossed their hand in the air and scattered diamonds across the vast horizon.
When he finished with his sunrise shots, she tagged along as he made his way up the beach, the fine grains of sand sticking to her toes and the bottoms of her feet. He didn’t waste his film on the requisite long shots down the shoreline, but instead he concentrated on the little things. Both the good and the bad.
The play of light and shadow across water-rippled sand, the ghost crab as it carried breakfast back into its tunnel, the scramble of a late hatching turtle as it scurried into the surf, the battered body of a dead pelican pushed to shore with a tangle of plastic from a six-pack wrapped around its neck.
She turned away and bent to pick up a shell in the shallows that had caught her eye. The shutter on Ian’s camera click, click, clicked, and Cora glanced up expecting to see fish jumping or dolphins swimming in the shallows, but Ian’s camera wasn’t pointing toward the ocean, he had the lens aimed at her.
“I thought you didn’t like wasting your film,” Cora said, oddly pleased to find his attention back on her. “You’ll never win the contest that way.”
He lowered the lens. “As much as I want to win, sometimes it’s the journey that’s most important, not the destination. I’m trying not to lose sight of that along the way.”
Capping his lens, he packed up his gear and shouldered his bag. “Besides, I’m going to need something to remember you by when I’m famous and living halfway across the world.”