From What I Remember

by Stacy Kramer, Valerie Thomas

  “It’s hard to explain. It’s like, I know it when I see it. It’s about learning what works. I didn’t know what I was doing at first, but I read about Stieglitz, Ansel Adams, Diane Arbus, Helmut Newton. I saw how they used light, composed their shots.”

  “And I thought you were just a pretty face.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises too. I also watch a lot of old movies. They’re like moving photographs.”

  “That’s how you know about The French Connection?”

  “I caught that on TV. But more like Fellini, Luchino Visconti, Godard. I see them at the Ken Cinema on Adams. Sometimes I go after squash games to just chill and watch the pictures go by. Pretty amazing stuff.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were into movies? You know I’m a movie freak.”

  “I just met you, Kylie, remember?”

  “I guess that’s true,” Kylie says. She’s swinging her arms as she walks down the street, like a little kid. She looks so adorable, I want to take her in my arms, but that would be very weird. We know each other a lot better than we did this morning, but still…

  “I’ve never seen anything by Visconti or Fellini. Kind of embarrassing, huh? I’m a connoisseur of the brain-dead action film and anything made after 1985,” Kylie adds.

  “David Fincher is a master.”

  “I know. I worship Fight Club.”

  “I’ve seen it three times.”

  “Six!” Kylie says proudly.

  “’Kay, that’s a little weird.”

  “You ever seen Pan’s Labyrinth?”

  “Guillermo del Toro. Genius.”

  “I know, right? That’s what I keep telling Will. He won’t go see it. He says it’s responsible for the decline of Western civilization.”

  “It’s pretty cool visually.”

  “Totally groundbreaking.”

  “You’ve got to see The Leopard. It’ll blow you away. It’s three and a half hours, but totally worth it.”

  “I was kind of waiting for NYU. Figured I’d have to see all those old films in class. You ever seen Blow-up?” Kylie asks me.

  “Sick. Just totally sick. And loved the sex scenes.”

  “You would.”

  It’s wild to talk old movies with someone. I don’t know anyone else who’s interested. Definitely not Lily. She had a shit fit and walked out of The 400 Blows. She said I was trying way too hard. The thing was, I wasn’t trying at all. I just thought she’d like it. That was the last time I ever took Lily to the Ken.

  “Maybe we could go see something at the Ken this summer, you know, if we’re both around?”

  “Yeah, sure, maybe,” Kylie says, hesitating. She doesn’t sound like she means it at all. I guess she’s thinking that after tonight, this is it. I get it, it makes sense. We run in completely different circles, no overlap at all. It kinda bums me out, though.

  “Okay, over on the lawn.” Kylie points to a beach ball on the grass. “How would you photograph that?”

  “For starters. I wouldn’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it doesn’t have any life to it. I don’t know. It’s dull, meaningless. When I take pictures, I’m looking for something I connect with, a feeling, a mood, a vibe. It’s like I’m having a conversation with what I’m photographing, or something like that.”

  I stop, uncomfortable. Why am I talking like this? I sound like some kind of pompous idiot, going on about photography like I’m Cartier-Bresson or something.

  “I’m sure that sounds totally pretentious,” I say, wanting to take it all back.

  “It doesn’t at all. It’s very cool to hear you talk about it. How long have you been doing it?”

  “I don’t know. A while. I got a digital camera for my tenth birthday. And then I started playing around on the Mac, developing pictures with a million different programs. It’s really the only thing I do, other than squash.”

  As we approach the harbor, I can hear music and the sounds of people partying. Lights are strung up everywhere. It looks like Christmas. Man, they know how to live it up in Mexico. I need to come south more often. The streets are covered with ribbons and giant paper banners. Colored lights have been strung up across the storefronts, and confetti floats in the air. A crowd of little girls in hot pink dresses comes toward us. They all have their hair pulled back, and flowers tucked behind their ears.

  “Oh my God, look.” Kylie points to a tiny Chihuahua wearing a sombrero on his back as he flies past our feet. A few seconds later a donkey carrying a huge wooden cross ambles across the street. People lead the donkey toward the church, but he stops and refuses to budge. A man whacks him on the butt, and he reluctantly moves on.

  I’m taking pictures like crazy. This place is bursting with life.

  “You should be a photographer, Max. Seriously. You have a real eye. I mean, you know more about film than I do.”

  “Whatever. Plenty of people can take great photos. It’s not that big a deal.…”

  “Yes, it is. It would be a shame if you didn’t pursue it.”

  “Okay,” is all I say. Because I don’t want to get into it with her.

  “You’re really good. You must know that.” Kylie looks up at me with her big eyes. She is so damn sincere. And earnest. And open. And beautiful…

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I mean, I can write. I know it, and no one can take that away from me. You can take great photos. Better than most people. You should do something with it. See what happens.”

  “Look, I don’t know. I just…I don’t have your confidence.…”

  Kylie looks at me, her head cocked to the left, like a dog that’s just heard a grating, high-pitched noise. Like she doesn’t understand what I’ve said.

  “My confidence?” Kylie laughs like that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever said.

  “What?”

  “An hour ago I was saying the same thing to you. You’re ninety-five percent confidence. I’m like, twenty-five percent, thirty on a good day. I just know I can write and I know you can take photos. It’s not confidence, it’s fact.”

  “I told you, it’s complicated.”

  “Yeah, everything is.”

  The crowds are getting thicker, the music louder, as we hit the center of things. It feels like New Year’s Eve. I wonder how we’ll ever find Will and Juan in this scene. Kylie and I slow down and try to stay on the outskirts.

  “Look, I tried,” I say. It comes out before I can take it back.

  “What do you mean, you tried?”

  “It’s just not going to happen, okay?”

  “Tell me.” Kylie is not backing down. I’ve put it out there and she’s going after it. I look at Kylie and exhale. Why did I even say anything?

  “Really, it’s no big deal.”

  “What do you have to lose by telling me? We’ll probably never see each other again after today.”

  I hope that’s not true.

  “We’ll see each other at graduation,” I say. But I’d like to see her after that as well. I’m just not sure I should say it. We both know I’ve got a girlfriend. Suddenly, Lily is feeling like one more thing I wish I didn’t have to deal with.

  “Okay,” she says, “we’ll have an intimate moment with about a hundred and twenty other seniors tomorrow. The point is, we don’t really hang out. I’m safe territory. You can tell me. And no one else ever has to know.”

  “I applied to RISD…the Rhode Island School of Design…and got in.”

  “Oh my God. That’s amazing.”

  “Yep.”

  “But you’re not going.”

  Kylie looks at me like I’m a total idiot. And that is exactly why I didn’t want to say anything.

  “Nope.”

  “You’re doing prelaw at UCLA instead.”

  “Yep.”

  “It’s not too late to change your mind. You can always—”

  “It’s done. I didn’t even tell my parents I applied. And when I got in, it was right after my da
d got really sick. I ripped up the acceptance letter. My dad wants me to be a lawyer. And he’s sick. So I’m gonna be a lawyer. I’d have to be a real jerk not to.”

  “I think you’re a jerk if you become a lawyer to make your dad happy.”

  “Don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just, that is so stupid. It’s your life, Max. If you don’t want to be a lawyer, how can you resign yourself to doing it for the rest of your life? That is so bleak.”

  “Everything is not about passion and following your dream. Get real, Kylie. Grow up. People do tons of crap they don’t want to do. I mean, does someone wake up one day and say, Man, I want to pick up people’s garbage more than anything in the world?”

  I’m getting a little too intense. I look away.

  “Okay. I get it,” Kylie says. “Not everyone gets to do exactly what they want to do. But don’t most parents want the best for their kids? Wouldn’t your dad want you to pursue your passion?”

  “Pretty sure he wants me to be a lawyer. He thinks the arts are, ‘No way to make a living.’ I’m quoting here. You should talk. Doesn’t sound like your parents are so into you studying film. And, no offense, but it’s a total long shot. I mean, I hope you have a plan B.” That comes out a little harsher than I intended.

  “Gee, thanks for your support.”

  Kylie looks annoyed. I try to pull it back, but I’m feeling under attack. “Look, I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances.”

  “I get the pressure. It’s all going to be hard. I may need a plan B, C, and D. But you know what? I would be so pissed at myself if I didn’t give it a shot. And just maybe, when I’m thanking my parents in my Oscar acceptance speech, everyone will regret telling me I couldn’t do this. Including you.”

  “You’re kind of a walking contradiction. At Freiburg you’re like a scared little mouse. At least that’s the impression I get.

  You keep your distance because you don’t want to risk being rejected, or whatever. But then, when it comes to your future, you have this incredible confidence. You know exactly what you want, and even though it’s a crazy dream, you’re going to do it. Nothing can stop you.”

  “Does that make me an idiot?”

  “No. It makes you very cool.”

  We look at each other. It breaks the tension, but in its place is an undeniable attraction. I’m not sure what to do about it. I’m trying to keep in mind that I’ve got a girlfriend, but it’s slipping away.

  “You’re exactly like me, Langston. Just in reverse.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “You’re the most confident guy around when it comes to Freiburg. But then, in real life, you don’t believe in yourself enough to follow your dreams.”

  “That sounds like some kind of cheesy line from a movie.”

  “Don’t knock cheesy lines from movies. They can be totally inspirational. Please pass the cheese.”

  “Photography is more of a hobby.”

  “Hobbies are for wimps who don’t have the guts to follow their passion.”

  “See what I mean? Your confidence is so strong it’s obnoxious.”

  “Okay. Have fun sitting in an office for the rest of your life, doing something you don’t want to do.”

  “How am I going to support myself being a photographer? Especially after my family cuts me off?”

  People pass us by, on their way to the festivities. We should probably shut up and go look for Will. But we’re in it now.

  “Oh my God, Max. We aren’t supposed to say stuff like that when we’re eighteen. If everybody just thought about money, and making the safe choice, there would be no art in this world, no music, nothing interesting. I’d rather starve.”

  “You’re used to not having money.”

  “That’s kind of insensitive.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. In a way, you’re lucky. You know you can live without it and be fine. I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “You’d be fine, Max. Plenty of people are happy doing what they want and never making a gazillion dollars.”

  “Listen, Kylie, you’ve given it your best shot. And maybe at a different time or place you could have convinced me, but not now. After my brother disappointed my dad, my telling him I don’t want to go to law school would kill him, sooner than already expected.”

  “Okay, well, maybe after law school, then.”

  I can see by her body language that Kylie is backing down. The mention of my dad’s imminent death is making her uncomfortable.

  “Maybe your dad will actually be okay. And then you can do what you want. People defy the odds all the time,” Kylie says. I know she’s trying to be nice, but I’m so sick of everyone refusing to accept the inevitable. What’s the point?

  “I know it’s weird to say that my dad is going to die, but, you know what? It actually makes me feel better. No one ever says it. My mom certainly doesn’t. The doctors don’t. They talk about the next step, alternative treatments, attacking it from another angle. He’s got inoperable cancer in his brain. It’s just a matter of time. I’d like someone to just say it.”

  I’m suddenly fired up again without realizing how I got here. I’m breathing hard. Kylie takes a step toward me and then, tentatively, puts her arms around me. I relax into her body. It feels so good in her arms, I could stay here for a while. I put my face in her hair. My arms wrap around her body. I pull her close. Breathe her in. My cheek presses against her cheek. Her skin is sticky, warm, sweet. I turn my face, and my lips press lightly against her face…

  And then, SPLASH!

  Water rains down on us from out of nowhere.

  Kylie and I pull apart and both turn to see Manuel’s son, Manu, standing in front of us, laughing. He holds an empty bucket. Manuel comes tearing around the corner, wearing a donkey mask, carrying two liter bottles of water like loaded pistols. He douses Manu and the two double over laughing.

  Kylie and I stare at them like they’ve lost their minds. I mean, what up, people?

  Manuel pulls off the donkey mask and throws a wet arm around us.

  “Time to get soaking wet. Part of the tradition of St. John the Baptist is to throw water at each other, or dunk people in the sea. You two are not nearly wet enough. Manu…get ’em.”

  Manu pulls out two squirt guns from his pocket and fires away. Manuel hands us each a squirt gun. Kylie turns her firepower on Manu, and I shoot Manuel straight through the heart. I don’t think I’ve used a water gun since I was ten.

  The water fight has changed the mood. Kylie takes a giant step away from me. It feels like hours ago that our faces were pressed together. That moment’s gone.

  “Now it’s time to get you two to the party. C’mon,” Manuel says, taking us both by the arm and dragging us down the street and into the pack of partyers. “Have fun!” Manuel tells us. It sounds like a command rather than a suggestion. And then he disappears into the crowd.

  “What should we do about Will?” I ask Kylie.

  “Dunno.”

  “We need to get back for graduation.”

  “He’ll turn up,” Kylie says as she walks toward a group of people dancing the merengue in the middle of the street.

  I follow her. Kylie watches them, entranced.

  “What happened to little Miss ‘We have to do Murphy’s assignment, or else’?”

  “Oh my God. Murphy’s assignment. I completely forgot.” Kylie laughs. “If she only knew what that assignment did to us. For the record, I’m totally not doing it.”

  “And what about your speech? You don’t care about that, either?”

  “Of course I do. Will is going to turn up, trust me. We’ll get back. Let’s just enjoy the party for now.”

  And with that, Kylie jumps in. She’s dancing to the music. What she lacks in style, she makes up for in enthusiasm. I watch her from the curb. She looks happy, uninhibited, free. Someone she can’t be at Freiburg.

  She’s right. We’ll ma
ke it back at some point. I join Kylie, throwing myself into the mix.

  ily, grab my cap, grab my cap,” Tessa Overby screams at me. “He’s going to throw it in the water and I’ll have to wear it to graduation all warped.”

  I’m standing in Luca Sonneban’s kitchen as Luca holds Tessa’s graduation cap over his head. Tessa is climbing his back like a monkey on a tree, attempting to pry the cap from his hands. She’s clutching at his shirt and laughing hysterically. I might have found this amusing yesterday, but now I just want to smack her.

  I wander out back to find Justin Brandt standing on the diving board, holding Ella Bing by her ankles, dangling her over the water. They’re both clearly wasted out of their minds. Ella’s always a little sloppy, but hanging upside down is really pushing things to a new level. Her shirt drapes around her neck, like a scarf, as her breasts dangle freely for everyone to see. It may be the last day of school, but, Jesus, have a little dignity.

  “Should I do it?” Justin slurs.

  A loud roar goes up from the crowd standing around the pool.

  “Do it. Do it. Do it,” everyone chants.

  Ella gives one last squeal and then Justin lets go. She drops into the pool with a splash. People cheer and hoot. A few seconds later Ella bursts to the surface, laughing and spitting out water. Justin dives in after her, fully clothed. Fifteen or so people leap in as well, all clothed.

  Ella throws off her shirt and is slapping around the water, topless. A bunch of other girls toss off their shirts. Boys throw off their jeans, and soon it’s one big skinny-dipping bacchanal. More senior rituals I should be partaking in. I’ve been looking forward to senior night since freshman year. I’d probably have been the first person in the water. If only.

  I’ve now thoroughly scoped out the party, and Max isn’t here, which is just so infuriating. And it begs the question, where the hell is he? And why hasn’t he bothered to text me all day?

  “Hey, girl, where you been? I’ve been looking all over for you,” Stokely says as she throws an arm around me and kisses my cheek.

  “Just got here a little while ago.”

  “It’s awesome, isn’t it?”

  “Totally,” I say, trying to sound enthusiastic.