Loving Neil

by Ronald Bagliere

  “How’s the leg?”

  “Getting back to normal,” she said.

  He craned his head over the crowd as if looking for someone. “You eat yet?”

  “No. Just got here.”

  “Great. I hate eating alone.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll get us a menu.”

  “Ahhh, well … umm.”

  Neil’s brow wrinkled and she could feel his embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry. What was I thinking? You’re probably meeting someone.”

  Janet felt like a jerk. She shook her head. “No, no one. I, I just, well, sure why not?”

  “You’re certain?” Neil said. The way he said it let her know he didn’t want to be a charity case.

  “Absolutely,” she replied, and went over and sat.

  An hour later, they were buried in conversation–Neil peppering her about photography. “So, it keeps you pretty busy, huh?”

  Janet nodded. “Busy enough, before the accident that is.”

  “Right.”

  Janet dragged a French fry through a pool of catsup on her plate. “I’m curious. Why the interest?”

  He took a swallow of beer. Gave her a discerning gaze. “Actually, I was thinking of calling you in a couple of weeks. The firm I work for is thinking about upgrading their portfolio. You know, marketing stuff. Ever do a photo-shoot of a building?”

  “Not really.”

  “Would you consider it? I mean if it were offered?”

  Hmmm, Janet thought. Interesting. She sat with that thought as Neil told her about the proposition. At first, she wondered if he was throwing her a bone. But the more he talked, the more she realized the offer was legit. Finally, she said, “I suppose I could look into the mechanics of it.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Mechanics?”

  She shook her head. “I love how everyone thinks you just point, click, and shoot. There’s more to it than that.”

  “Oh, I believe you. Mind educating me?” he said.

  “Well … lighting for one thing. If we’re outside, there’s reflective glare from windows and metals that needs to be accounted for besides all the other stuff I normally look at. And if we’re inside there’s a whole other set of rules. Not to mention composition.”

  He gave her a boyish grin. “I guess that’s why you’re the expert and I’m just a dumb old architect.”

  She laughed, and since he left the door wide open, she gave him a sidelong glance and said, “Don’t be too hard on yourself. That’s what ‘I’m’ here for!”

  Janet thought about the offer Neil had made over the next couple of weeks. Although the shoot he had in mind for her wouldn’t happen until mid-September she was hesitant. A photo-shoot of a building was an unfamiliar subject to her. Being a perfectionist didn’t help, either. She worked in mediums she felt comfortable and confident in.

  She opened a book she bought from a local bookstore and poured through the plates, learning the trade lingo, understanding what architects looked for in photo spreads.

  Sipping her iced tea, pencil in hand hovering over her notes, she determined wide-angle lenses shot most of the photos in the book. This made sense. She guessed a 24mm for exterior shots and 20mm for interiors. More than a few had used polarizing filters. The film: definitely an ISO 200 and a few using ISO 100.

  Well, I have the equipment. She scribbled a few notes, took some educated measurements for distance and preferred angles then sat back. I can do this; the question is do I want to? And, will it be worth it? She glanced at the phone, debating. It’s late, going on ten. But he said, ‘call any time.’ She tapped a fingernail on the table and got up, dialed the first five numbers, stopped and hung up. A minute later, her gaze went back to the open book on the table. Oh, hell! She picked the phone up and dialed again.

  7

  September 10, 1981 -

  Janet pulled into the parking lot of the Wilson office building; a two-story red brick structure with a band of tinted green windows around it. A bright, clear sky soared overhead. She got out of her car and studied the building’s broad cream-colored, stone entrance. Flanking its north side was a glass-enclosed stairway with a terrace beside it that was sprinkled with tables. People were out eating their lunches on them.

  Neil, you were supposed to meet me here at noon. It’s quarter after. I’m here, where are you? Janet thought. She went around her car and popped the trunk. As she rummaged through her camera case, taking inventory, Neil pulled up and parked beside her.

  “You found it,” he said, shutting his door and coming around behind the back of his truck.

  “Yeah, it wasn’t too hard. I live here, remember?”

  He smiled. “Keep forgetting I’m the out-of-towner.” He took her tripod and helped her with the rest of her gear.

  “So, where do you want me to start?” she said, pulling her light meter out.

  “I was thinking a few shots of the entrance then working your way around to the rear. But first, let me introduce you to the owner.”

  They walked across the lot, Neil pointing out the finer points of the architecture to her. It’s okay I guess, if you like working in a fish bowl all day, Janet thought. “So, is there a special name for this kind of architecture?”

  “Modernist.”

  “Right.” She followed him around front and into the lobby. A dark green marble floor clicked under her heels. A muted wall, accented with abstract prints, fanned out behind the reception desk. Above her was a gossamer thin metal artwork that spiraled down from the ceiling.

  Neil gave their names to the receptionist, and a moment later, a man strode into the lobby. Tall, fit, tanned with a drift of silver hair brushing the top of his ears, he reminded Janet of a typical politician. He put his hand out to Neil.

  “Janet, this is Mr. Wilson,” Neil said, shaking hands with him.

  “Call me, John,” the man replied, offering a broad wolf-like smile to Janet.

  “Janet’s going to be shooting the building for us today,” Neil announced.

  “Great. We’re very proud of it,” Mr. Wilson said, giving Janet a measured glance. “Can I interest you two in joining me for a bite before you get started. There’s an exceptional Thai restaurant down the street that delivers.”

  “No thank-you,” Janet said.

  Mr. Wilson frowned subtly, then smiled. “Alright then, I’ll let you two get to work,” he said. As his hazel eyes gave Janet one last perusal, Neil frowned.

  You just keep on looking mister, cause that’s all you’re gonna get! To Neil, she said, “Shall we?”

  That night, in her dark room, Janet opened the last film cartridge and threaded the roll inside into the reel of her developer. A dozen shots hung on the line above her worthy of enlarging. She pulled her hair back, knotting it loosely and loaded the first shot into the enlarger. After snapping it down and calibrating, she made the exposure. Behind her, a print hung next to three plastic tubs in a triple bowl sink. She hurried over and ran it through the developers and washes and watched the emerging image taking shape.

  She frowned. I better get something better than this or I can kiss this gig goodbye. The phone rang on the wall beside her. She glanced over at the clock. Almost nine-thirty–who the hell? She hung the enlargement up and stripped off her gloves.

  “Hello?”

  “Janet, it’s me, Megan. My father just told me you’re working for him! How great is that?”

  Janet smiled. “I’m not working for him; I’m working for his firm, just like I work with the Reporter.”

  “Details! You are so anal sometimes. So, how was it?”

  “Okay, I guess. Different from what I’m used to … So, how’s Mick?” Janet said, hoping word hadn’t gotten around about her taking on this new venue. It was, what many of her peers would call, ‘pedestrian photography’.

  “Mick is Mick. Oh, by the way, he’s getting pretty nervous about next Sunday’s Reporter.”

  “He’ll get it,” Janet said.

  “‘Kay, I’ll let him know.
When you thinking on coming in?”

  “Probably next Friday,” Janet replied.

  “You like giving him indigestion, don’t ya?” Megan clucked, and Janet detected a smile on the other end. Megan liked twitting Mick. Suddenly, Megan said, “Say, why don’t you stop by when you come? We’re having a party for Brad on Saturday. It’s his birthday.”

  “I don’t know, Meg. I’m pretty busy. You know my dad’s moving out west and everything.”

  “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  “What about Barney? What am I gonna do with him?”

  “Bring him.”

  Janet sighed. “I just don’t think so, Meg.”

  “Why?”

  “Meg, please.”

  “This have anything to do with finances? Cause if it does, my father’s coming. You could ride with him.”

  Janet rolled her eyes. “I don’t think he’d appreciate me being pushed on him.”

  “You wouldn’t be pushing yourself on him. Think about it … for me?”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” Janet said, well aware Megan was relentless when she wanted something. “Say, I’m developing right now. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Janet licked the flap of the large, manila envelope holding her ‘Reporter’ submittal and set it on the table. She’d finished it two days ahead of time. Another late night, but it would be the last for a while. It felt good to be back at work, doing something she loved.

  Breakfast crackled and spit in the frying pan. She grabbed the spatula, flipped her eggs, and sucked a gulp of coffee. As she stood watching things cook, the phone rang. She looked up at the clock. It was a little after nine.

  “Hello?”

  “Janet, Neil here.”

  “Oh, hi.” Uh, oh, something wrong at the house? “What’s up?”

  “Well, I heard you were traveling into town this Friday and were invited to my son-in-law’s birthday party. I was wondering if I could catch a ride with you. My truck’s been acting up lately. Think it’s the tranny.”

  Megan! “I see a little birdie has been whispering in your ear,” she said, turning the burner off. She cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder and pushed the eggs onto her plate.

  “Well, yes. You’re not upset, are you?”

  “No.” Great, now what do I say?

  “I don’t bite.”

  She popped a slice of bread into the toaster, looked at Barney and smiled. “I’m not worried, but you should be. I’ll be bringing Barney and he gets a little jealous of folks taking his front seat.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  Hmmm… She dashed salt and pepper on her eggs. It might be a chance to talk more business. “I have to go into the city, and I’m not sure how long it’ll take.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Would you like me to drop you off first?”

  “Naw, I can wait.”

  “Eleven, then?” she offered.

  “Eleven it is,” he said. “Shall I come to you?”

  Janet shrugged. “Yeah, that probably makes sense.”

  “Great. I’ll pick some coffee up on the way. How do you take it?”

  She grinned. “Just cream. And thanks. You have a good day now.”

  “You too.”

  After he hung up, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. But the idea of having someone ride shotgun felt good.

  Neil sat with Barney on his lap as Janet pulled out onto Route 22 and melded into the traffic. From the corner of her eye, she saw the dog pushing his nose into Neil’s open lapel and whipping his tail back and forth. “Barney, stop.”

  “He’s alright. He’s just being a dog,” Neil said.

  “Yeah, I know, but I don’t like encouraging bad habits.”

  Neil laughed. “I’m afraid he’s way past that … aren’t you boy?” He ran his thick fingers through Barney’s fur. “I had a dog … once … when I was a kid. Little Lab mix; tough as nails. Wouldn’t back down from nothing. Anybody came at me, they faced a mouthful of teeth.”

  “I don’t think that would be my kind of dog.”

  “He wasn’t mean or anything. He was just protective. Anyway, we got him at the pound. I can still remember the day we picked him out. I was looking for a German Shepherd until I saw this little guy looking at me like I was his last chance.”

  Janet nodded. “You were being adopted and didn’t know it.”

  “Yep. He was a great dog. The best. I still think of him sometimes. Keep wondering what happened to him.”

  “You don’t know?”

  Neil rubbed Barney behind the ear. “Nope. Disappeared one day. Never saw him again.”

  “Our dog was a collie,” Janet said. “Car chasers, if you know what I mean.”

  “Gotcha,” Neil said. “Hey, what’d’ya say about stopping for a bite? My treat.”

  Janet reached over, gave Barney a scratch behind the ear. “Thanks, but–”

  “But nothing,” Neil said firmly. “You’re doing the driving, so I’m doing the buying, no arguments.”

  Janet parked in the Reporter’s lot and left Neil and Barney to occupy themselves in a grassy lot that backed up to the property. When she walked through the back door, she saw Mick in the layout room, soda in hand. Beside him, a cigarette burned in an overflowing ashtray. No one else was around, a rare thing on a Friday afternoon before a Sunday printing.

  Mick looked up as she slid next to him. “Hey.”

  “Hi. Where’s everybody?”

  “Out for a late lunch. Got a long night ahead of us.” He reached for the manila envelope in her hand. “That for me?”

  She handed it to him and peered over at a pod of empty desks. “Megan with ‘em?”

  “Yep, they went to that Pan-Am restaurant down the street.” He motioned her to sit as his fingers worked the metal clasps and tape off the envelope.

  Janet frowned. She was hoping to see Megan and chat about what to get Brad besides the card she’d already bought. “I’m good standing. Been sitting for the last hour, and sorry this took so long.”

  He waved a hand and pulled the proofs onto the long metal table. Janet heard him ticking off the keepers under his breath. “Not bad,” he muttered. He sorted them into piles and looking up, added, “Don’t worry, you’ll get up to speed.”

  Up to speed? Janet forced a nervous smile. Mick had never given her work an up-to-speed review. “Little rusty.”

  He slipped the short pile of proofs in an envelope, put them aside and picked up his cigarette. “It happens, just like I keep lighting up these damned cancer sticks. Shit,” he said, noticing the butt had burned down on one side almost to the filter. “You know, sometimes I feel like one of these, just burning away down to nothing.”

  Janet braced herself. She knew Mick had something on his mind that he had to say but didn’t want to. He bent his gaze toward her and cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to tell you this, other than just coming right out with it. I gotta cut your freelance work back. Sorry.”

  Janet felt the air go out of the room. “Of course.”

  “It’s not my idea. You’re a great photographer, but it is what it is.”

  But what you’re really thinking is: I should’ve taken the job, isn’t it, Mick?

  He pulled another cigarette out and lit it. “Look, there’s a new rag down on Main Street focused on ecology-based vacations like whale watching and shit. I heard they’re shopping.”

  Janet sucked a breath and straightened her back. She had been freelancing for the Reporter since college. To think it might be coming to an end seemed surreal. She held out her hand. “Well, it’s been a ride.”

  He took a drag, tilted his head up, and blew a ring of smoke toward the ceiling. “Yes it has. It’s not like it’s the end, you know,” he said shaking her hand. “Soon as things loosen up, you’ll be back.”

  “Yeah.” But we both know differently, Janet thought. “I’ll check ‘em out. Well, umm … I guess it’s, don’t call me,
I’ll call you now, huh?”

  “‘Fraid so.”

  Two hours later, Janet sat munching fish sticks at Megan’s dining room table. Her thoughts were far away from the lively banter of Neil and his son-in-law across from her. Kyle sat in his high chair, his little round face smeared with tomato sauce. Active and curious hands clutched a sliver of bread.

  Janet wondered where she was going to pick up another contract as she gazed through the sliding glass door and over the white-picket fence hemming in the back yard. In the adjoining lot, she heard squealing voices and saw a white soccer ball loop up into the air.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Neil said.

  She blinked and turned back. “Oh, just thinking.” Standing, she took her plate to the sink and ran water to wash dishes. As she waited for the sink to fill, she watched Neil make funny faces at his grandson.

  When Brad took Kyle into the other room for a diaper changing, Neil got up and started clearing the table. After stacking dirty dishes on the counter beside her, he took up a dishtowel and started wiping. They worked quietly side by side until he said, “There’s an ice-cream parlor a couple blocks down the street. Interested?”

  “You mean now?”

  “No, later, after Brad and I put Kyle to bed.”

  She eyed him thoughtfully, saw the little kid in his expression and remembered her mother’s saying; ice cream is the ultimate band-aid.

  Neil opened the cabinet door and set the glass he had just wiped on the shelf. “Somehow, I get the feeling you’re having a bad day.”

  She shrugged and pulled the stack of plates beside her into the dishwater. “Just feeling quiet.”

  He nodded. “My Meg thinks I’m lonely when I’m quiet. Says I need to get around people. I tell her people can’t make you happy, you have to decide that for yourself.”

  “Right,” Janet said rinsing a plate. “So what makes you happy?”

  A twinkle came to his eye as he took the dish from her. “Make a deal with ya. I’ll tell you over a cone.”

  Janet swatted his arm. “That’s just wrong!”

  Neil laughed and put the plate away. “I see there’s one thing Meg hasn’t told you.”