FADED PHOTOGRAPHS

by Claire Luna-Pinsker

           Barbara Larson’s shoulders slumped as she sat cross-legged on the living room floor in front of two large cardboard boxes. Her body felt like she had been pummeled to a pulp with a baseball bat, and not your ordinary plastic variety. All day long she attempted to sort through eight year’s worth of collectables, knick-knacks, gifts, and finally the photographs. She decided she’d do the adult thing and be fair about it, especially now that Steve amicably agreed to end their marriage after several tortuous weeks of venomous arguing.

          

           “I’ll probably revert back to my maiden name. Wonder if I’ll have to pay for that too, or will he?” Pondering, finally resigned to doing the dirty detail. Thankfully no one was in the room hearing her talk to herself, but the walls echoed the sounds of her quivering voice. Her brow furrowed, she intently contemplated the unfamiliar idea of being a single mother, and even weirder was the thought of entering the dating pool again.

           “Oh no, I’ll have to shave my legs all the time! And give up my comfy t-shirt p.j’s, and put on aching heels to go out.” Groaning at the aspect, she didn’t dare think about the first time she’d have to remove clothing to slip in bed with someone other than Steve. An eerie chill raced up and down her spine.

          

           Shuddering, she turned to pick up one photograph in an antique frame, edged with ghastly, miniature pink flowers. “Steve, when did it all start to go wrong?” Sighing, she brushed off the slightly dusty frame, which had sat on their fireplace mantel for years.

          

           The photo was of a happier, carefree time, when Steve was hugging her so fiercely she could hardly take a breath but wiggling around she managed to giggle in pure amusement like a child, and a friend captured their image. The next weekend trip antiquing, an activity they both enjoyed, Steve discovered this frame and declared it the only one for their photograph. She remembered his reply to her outright complaint, “This is the ugliest, gaudiest frame I’ve ever seen.”

          

           “Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, and I behold beauty.” Returning home he framed their photo, placing it up on the mantel and boasting proudly, “With this picture of you giggling, your face radiating more than all the stars in the entire galaxy, no one will ever dare to say that this is an ugly frame.”

          

           Slipping the photograph in his box, Barbara said, “It’s only fair that he keeps this one.” Leaning back she picked up a fourteen by sixteen matted gold frame, framing a professionally done portrait from their wedding day. She couldn’t help but smile, remembering the photographer’s chagrin when he couldn’t gain their cooperation for the usual dignified pose. Steve slung her over his shoulder, wedding dress and all, snarling, “Forget the shot-gun Pa, I’ll marry this filly, knocked up or not.” Hesitating for only a few moments before placing the portrait on the side, she murmured, “I should keep the wedding photos for our son.”

  Her hand landed on a baby blue frame with another photo. It was taken a month after their son, Trevor, was born. Being exhausted from staying up the previous two nights with their colicky son, Steve graciously volunteered to take the entire night’s shift, giving her a much-appreciated chance to catch up on precious lost sleep. Wearily she climbed out of bed at three a.m. to check on how he was doing, only to find them both content, with one gently snoring and the other snoring a little louder, soundly sleeping in the nursery rocking chair. Rushing for the camera she managed to snap their photo, without disturbing their sleep. Later she gave it as a gift to Steve on his first Father’s Day. Gently wrapping it, she slipped it in his box.

          

           Next was a photograph that was tattered but carefully taped up. Trevor went on a rampage one evening when they left him with a babysitter to have some needed adult alone time to celebrate their forth anniversary alone. Some photos were left scattered on the dining room table waiting to be framed, and somehow two-year-old Trevor managed to climb up and scribble on some of them with crayons, and also tear others up, all while the babysitter took a nap. Needless to say the babysitter was fired, and the photos became a puzzle game, attempting to find the right pieces to tape back together. 

          

           This one ended up a little off-center in the frame, but Steve decided to keep it that way. It was a photo of Barbara’s graduation from nursing school. She had a stethoscope slung around her neck and carried an enormous fake thermometer, aiming it at the camera with a crazy leer on her face.

          

           Roaring with laughter, Steve barely managed to snap the picture with his shaky hands. He said jokingly, “I wouldn’t let you near me Nurse Twisted, even if you were the only nurse in the hospital.”

She responded, “Oh yes you would, after I give you your first bed bath.”

Barbara recalled how proud he was, standing up, applauding and giving a pierce whistle through his fingers, when she stood on the platform receiving her nursing degree.

          

           The phone rang and she scrambled up to answer it. “Yes Steve. Tonight’s fine. I’m almost finished anyway. Good, I agree, we should get through this like adults.” Hanging up the phone she rushed back to finish sorting out the multitude of photographs, and piles of photo albums.

     The photo albums bore all their happy memories of their numerous family happenings. Each person in the snapshots displayed quirky smiles, happy tears, or some other kind of crazy expression from a performed antic. Laughter was once important to both of them, with them both sharing a love for capturing memories with their cameras.

          

           “This was before everything went sour.” Mumbling, Barbara ran her hand over the Halloween album. Halloween was one time of the year when they pulled out all stops, concealing their costumes from each other to only reveal them on Halloween night. Flipping open the book, she shook her head in amazement at what she viewed. In several of the photos they were wearing matching costumes, or sometimes even identical ones. Images of two clowns, two hobos and two spotted cows flashed in front of her face, as she casually turned the pages. Their friends never believed they didn’t inform each other, but it was unique because somehow they just knew what the other was going to be.

          

           “We have a connection you’ll never understand.” Steve explained when they attended a party dressed as Hansel and Gretel, again without knowing the other’s costume

     “Why didn’t I know this was going to happen if we were so connected?” Closing the album, she shoved it in Steve’s box.

          

           When the doorbell rang later that night she was startled at first, before remembering Steve solemnly handed the house key over to her the last time he left. A permanent image was engraved in her brain, viewing him saunter down the path, jump into his jeep and drive slowly away. She didn’t need a photograph of that day to place in any frame. Wiping away a tear, she pulled herself together before answering the door, letting Steve back into a home, which was once his.

          

               “Hello Barbara.”

          

           “Hello.” Repeating the word as if she was speaking to a business acquaintance, instead of speaking to a man who shared her life and dreams for the past eight years.

          

              “Is everything packed, and ready to go?”

          

           Barbara noticed his eyes were averted away from hers, scanning over the living room.  The walls were now bare of framed photographs and the tables were also clear, but the beige carpet was littered with assorted framed photos and scattered photo albums, with the two large cardboard boxes totally empty.

          

           “Er, I almost had it finished, but then I ran into a little trouble...I mean, deciding... Maybe you should just take...” Stumbling over the words, she stared blankly at him, attempting to explain.

          

            He met her eyes with a fiery emerald gaze, sending shivers traveling up and down her spine. His eyes were always intense, chameleon eyes, switching tints with his varied emotions, drawing you in to really notice him. In the past few weeks, she only viewed the stormy tints.

           Steve spun away to step into the center of the room, squatting down easily to pick up one framed photo.

          

           “No, you can’t have that one!” Shouting, Barbara made a mad rush across the room to grab the framed photo out of his hands.

          

           “And why not?” Steve asked, holding onto it with a firm grip.

          

             There was a mild tug and war tussle between them, with neither giving an inch.

          

           Spurting out the first thing that sprung to her mind, Barbara said, “Because it’s not faded yet. It’s still new and not an antique.”

          

           “What are you talking about?” Steve asked, with an expression of total puzzlement on his face.

   “I mean...” Averting her eyes away from his pinwheel, spark-flying eyes, she stared down at the photo. It was a photo of their favorite restaurant, a small out-of-the-way place, which only seated twenty people at the most but had the most magnificent antique furnishings. It was the place where Steve asked for her hand in marriage, and she accepted, spilling the goblets of red wine all over her blouse and the white lace tablecloth when she leaped up. A waiter captured their happy celebration moment, spilt wine and all.

          

            “Relax and explain yourself, Barbara.”

   “I said it’s not faded yet.” Reluctantly she released the photo after looking back at him.  Her eyes were spellbound by his now-glistening with tears.

          

            “No, it’s not.” Agreeing in a hoarse voice, he laid the photo gently on the floor.

          

           Suddenly Barbara found herself pulled against him, and held in a comforting bear hug.  Engulfed by his muscular arms, she allowed her head to rest against his hard chest, and felt his heart pounding against her ear. Hers was equally pounding, from a sudden sense of pure relief.  Maybe there was still a chance for them, because photos couldn’t lie.

          

           “Maybe we should give it some time, to let these photographs have the chance to fade? I’ll agree to counseling, anything you want, because I still love you.” Steve said, murmuring against her hair.

      “I never stopped loving you. And yes, I’d really like to give it another chance.” She sighed, agreeing with him.

          

           Trevor quietly slipped into the living room, holding a toy camera they had given him for his fifth birthday. “Can I take a happy picture, Mommy?” He asked in his childish voice.

   “Go right ahead, honey.” Answering, Barbara smiled, wrapped in Steve’s reassuring and re-committed bear hug.

                    

                                                              THE END

Claire Luna-Pinsker is a retired pediatric nurse, a wife and mother of three adults. She's a fulltime writer with multiple fiction, non-fiction, life essays, and novelette, “Ebony Blood,” published with several literary shorts to be published in 2007. Her humorous nature, imagination and love for music assist with her creativity. She also enjoys capturing nature’s beauty with her camera. Contact her.   or at  www.musicoflovewriter.com.