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She knew she didn’t havehere in the kitchen as the rain poured down outside Mom played old country classics on the stereo, and soon, even I was hu with her at the counter All our fights about Ee choices were put on hold, like we hit pause in ourback now, I can see it was a perfect day: no deep forced conversation or anything, just siet with her again

I look around the kitchen I can al between the refrigerator and the stove-top I hugto hold the happy picture in my mind I can’t remember the last time I let myself just think about her After it happened, and I fell apart, I figured the only way to keep going was to block it all out co with the bad I’ve worked so hard to push down any thought of her, scared to death that the hts, or conjure up the sound of her voice, then I’ll see her body, laying there all over again And, worse, feel the fa my breath, the rush of hot panic that crushesabout her, and I feel OK Sad, yes Wistful, and regretting, and edged with all er, but not so bad I can’t keep it under control

Maybe I’

I exit the kitchen door and cut across the lawn towhere I left it: chemicals in their bottles on the shelf, plastic basins stacked in the sink And that airtight box of old fil to be developed after all these years

I feel a calm settle overout my equipment in a routine I know by heart I check the heavy drapes block out the light cohts, so I’ht The afternoon passes in a quiet, cal che in thin aes to life on thick glossy paper

I gently swirl che the faint outlines of the i the whole routine is Most people find it boring: they’d ital caht away on the screen, and upload them to the computer in an instant For the last four years, I’ve been the sa them in the same moment I told myself it was better, hassle-free and easy, but now I know they were just lies I toldhere in the dark, ician, taking e

This reel of filo I travel back in ti, nose in her cellphone as she texts all her friends about what a drag her vacation is turning out to be Dad, fleeting, always at his laptop, with an eye-roll to geton the beach for hours, staring into the horizon

I trace her face gently, hanging the photo up on the line to dry How did we not see it? She was fading away right in front of us, but we never guessed I guess she was detery linen clothes, and forcing her voice loud and bright to hide the shake of uncertainty In this shot, she’s in a lawn chair down by the sand Her hair is dancing in her eyes, and she’s got a s into the ca She looks happy At peace

I s whole rolls of fil close on a ept beach Driving the back-roads Laying half-buried under the tangled sheets on his bed Fragments that send me deeper back into my memories, down a different road this time, to when I lived in a constant state of nervous exhilaration, htest touch

Desire…

I can see it all in the delicate lines of the prints: those late nights clinging breathlessly to hi hihter under raphs: dark and thrilling and full of fierce affection I feel a deep pull of lust, tracing the outline of his face--years younger, but just as conflicted

God, ere consu I’d ever known, the compulsion to drown myself in his touch and never coentle hesitant dates, and shy flirting Right frolike hell he would be there to break round and found myself all alone in the world, without hiether Pretend like it had never happened Anything to stop the endless agony, the wretched guilt and pain and creeping suspicion that it was all h toon But looking around, at the photos hanging around me, wet on the line, I realize there’s a place in my heart that’s been e wide open

Eh h defenses He broke nored for so long: sadness, and sweetness, hurt, regret Even passion