The Institution

by Kristen Rose

  *

  Jennifer rushed into the lecture theatre and sat down next to him. It was mid-morning; her cheeks were pink from running and her chest bulged up and down, but there was an excited expression on her face.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ O’Connell asked staring into her eyes, his Scottish accent much thicker.

  ‘You’ll never guess what happened to me last night.’ She smiled.

  O’Connell’s heart began to race as he took in her beauty, elevated by her grin. ‘What?’ He asked casually, though his heart still raced furiously.

  ‘Well, last night I was at home trying to study for our test this afternoon but my mum was driving me insane, continually walking past my room, talking to me, muttering to herself ... so I decided to take my books to a café near my house to study.’ The words spilled out of her mouth. ‘Anyway, I got carried away going over and over the content for health law,’ she told him, ‘and the waiter kept on coming up and asking if I wanted more coffee. I kept saying yes because I was too comfortable to move and he looked like the kind of guy who would kick you out if you didn’t keep ordering stuff and before I knew it, it was almost midnight! I figured my parents would have a panic attack if I didn’t go home, so I went to pay my bill.’ She paused for breath. ‘Ninety dollars! I only had a fifty on me. I couldn’t believe I’d spent that much on coffee!’ She reprimanded herself.

  ‘Ninety dollars? How long were you there for?’ O’Connell asked only mildly interested, his attention turned to the fitted deep green dress she was wearing.

  ‘A long time.’ She said slowly. ‘Anyway, I was trying to negotiate with the guy, you know, offering to wash dishes. I even tried to give him my watch but he wouldn’t budge. He was going to call the police or something which was ridiculous, I mean, they have better things to do. So I was just about to start up the fake water works when this guy came up and offered to pay my bill for me.’ Her grin reappeared.

  ‘Really?’ O’Connell vaguely responded.

  ‘Yeah, I didn’t think those kinds of people existed these days. I went to turn around to say thanks but no thanks, I wasn’t going to let some guy pay for me. I mean if all else failed I’m sure my dad would’ve bailed me out, but then I saw him.’ She said the last part of her sentence in a dream-like state. O’Connell zapped out of his trance and looked at her, querying.

  ‘He was the hottest guy I have ever seen!’ She enthused. O’Connell’s stomach lurched as he took in her words. ‘His smile ... oh ... I practically melted. Before I knew it he’d talked me into sitting back down and having another cup of coffee ... with him!’

  O’Connell stared blankly at the wall nursing the sudden hole in his stomach. He replied before she asked him if there was something wrong, ignoring the pain welling in his chest.

  ‘Wow. That was lucky. So ... what did you talk about?’ Jennifer took a second to comprehend his words; she found his Scottish accent thick and hard to understand at times.

  ‘I don’t know! I couldn’t stop picturing him with his shirt off let alone hear what he was saying. But I did catch one thing though, he’s rich! Not that I’m a gold digger.’ She added quickly.

  ‘Rich?’ O’Connell said, finally focussing on her words.

  ‘Yeah. His uncle owns a Mercedes car dealership and he’s in charge of running it. Can you imagine the kind of commission he gets?’

  ‘How old is he?’ O’Connell frowned suspiciously.

  ‘Well, he’s a little older than me.’ Her voice was apprehensive. O’Connell gave her a questioning stare. ‘Okay, like, seven years. It’s not that much of an age gap really.’

  ‘Yeah ... but ... you’re only eighteen.’

  ‘So are you!’ She retaliated.

  ‘Yeah, but I don’t let older women hit on me.’ He defended.

  ‘How do you know if he was hitting on me? You weren’t there.’

  ‘Are you seeing him again?’

  A smile spread across her face. ‘Friday night.’ She said shortly. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.’ She had misunderstood O’Connell’s look of sadness for a look of concern. He felt his stomach twinge with pain.

  ‘What’s his name?’ He managed to ask.

  ‘Marcus Verdad,’ she sang, ‘but he prefers Marc.’ The two were silent for a minute.

  ‘Hey, would you do me a favour?’ She asked suddenly, changing the subject.

  ‘What kind of favour?’

  ‘Well, I want to get the photos from my eighteenth developed but I’m sort of grounded indefinitely for staying out late last night.’

  ‘Grounded?’

  ‘Yeah, ridiculous I know, I mean, I’m eighteen years old! But, I can’t afford to be kicked out so I have to put up with their stupid rules for now.’

  ‘Yeah, I ‘spose.’ O’Connell vaguely nodded, still sore about the new development in Jennifer’s love life.

  ‘Anyway would you take the film this afternoon and get it developed for me? I'll give you some money.’ He sat there, enchanted by her eyes.

  ‘Of course.’ O’Connell was all too willing. She smiled and leaned down, grabbing her black leather bag off of the floor. She opened it and dug around inside for a minute before producing a camera and a few rolls of used film. ‘I think there’s still film in the camera, I was running late this morning so I just chucked everything in here without looking.’ She inspected the camera before saying, ‘Oh, there’s still one photo left on the roll.’

  ‘Give it to me, I’ll take your picture.’ Jennifer eyed him reluctantly. ‘Come on.’ He urged.

  ‘Okay, here.’ She shoved the camera into his hands.

  ‘Go on, smile.’

  She rolled her eyes before producing a tooth filled smile. He pointed the lens towards her, her eyes shone like emeralds against her deep green dress and her dark hair draped down over her shoulders like a curtain. O’Connell snapped the photograph. The camera came to life and the roll of film began winding itself up.

  ‘Thanks.’ Jennifer said, collecting the camera from him after he had removed the roll of film.

  ‘I’ll take it after our test this afternoon.’ He promised.

  ‘Thanks, I really appreciate it.’ The conversation was put to an end as the lecturer ordered silence amongst the noisy room.

  Later that afternoon, O’Connell arrived at the local shopping centre, the roll of films secured tightly in his bag.

  When he arrived at the photo counter in one of the stores he waited patiently for someone to serve him. After a couple of minutes, a middle aged lady, slightly overweight with greying red hair approached the counter.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, before she even had time to open her mouth. ‘I want to get these films developed.’

  ‘Sure.’ The woman replied, bored. ‘Mat or gloss finish?'

  ‘Ah, gloss please.’

  ‘Normal sizing?’

  ‘Yes please, that would be lovely.’

  ‘Okay.’ She scribbled down on the top sheet of large receipt booklet. ‘And did you want singles or doubles?’

  ‘Singl ... ah ... doubles please.’ His eyes lit up.

  ‘No problem.’ She tore the strip of paper off of the bottom of the receipt with the number on it and handed it to him. ‘I’ll have them ready for you in an hour.’ The woman droned.

  ‘Thanks.’ He smiled, taking the small piece of paper.

  An hour later he returned to collect and pay for the photographs. Once outside the store, he sat down on a nearby bench and began to separate the photos so that one lot of copies remained securely inside their paper packages and the other lot was held tightly in his hand. As he left the shopping centre, he walked past a small rubbish bin. In it he placed the second copies of the photographs, except for one.

  *

  O’Connell gets up off of the couch and walks towards the photograph. It’s brand new, shiny silver frame the brightest object in the dark room. He stares at it for a minute, a smile forming on his face before he turns and heads towards his kitchen table. On
top of the table, surrounded by a few odd sheets of paper, dirty plates and a varied collection of stationary items is an e-ticket. He picks it up and smiles once more.

  #12 A Conversation