by Chad Josey
“I’m not sure,” Joe said as he tapped her waist with his hand. “I’ll lift it. Shine the light and look for anything else in there.”
The antique desk was solid oak with three drawers on the bottom right side and a roll-top section with numerous small drawers and shelves. Joe grunted as he lifted the corner. “Okay… uh… anything?” His fingers turned white as the weight of the desk prevented his circulation.
Mary pressed her body against the floor as she crawled under the desk. “Don’t set this down on me.”
“See anything?” Joe tightened his lips. The weight grew in his hands.
The familiar pop sound to Joe occurred again as Mary pushed the drawer up into place. “You really can’t even tell there’s a drawer here when it’s closed. I don’t think there’s anything else.” She tapped various spots around the bottom.
“Okay, I need to set it down, now.”
Mary grabbed the chair and pulled herself up to sit. Joe sat in the red futon staring at the picture.
“So, why was that picture hidden away in a secret drawer?” Mary asked as her gaze lingered on the desk.
“Uh… I don’t know.” He paused and placed the picture down on his lap. He made eye contact with her. “Do you think this is what Grandma meant by the truth being in the desk?”
Mary stood, walked over to him, and plopped down beside him. “Sweetie, who knows? But, the truth is, you were so damn cute then.” She took the picture off his lap.
“What I don’t understand is why hide this picture?”
“Did y’all even have a Polaroid camera?”
“No, not that I remember. Grandma took her purple, thirty-five-millimeter camera everywhere because it was always in her bag.”
He paused taking the picture from Mary and studied it a hand’s distance from his eyes. “But, all the pictures I ever saw of me from graduation were taken from her seat in the stands. This is a Polaroid, I mean, it’s like it’s zoomed in on me. Either that, or whoever took it was right in front of me?”
Joe moved the picture in-and-out as if he were looking under his laboratory microscope to find any hidden details. “Well, from what I remember, Polaroid cameras didn’t have a zoom. So, this had to have been taken as I left the stage because I’m holding my diploma here.”
Mary sat with a smile as she asked, “Do you remember anybody taking pictures down there? All I remember was shaking the principal’s hand, getting my diploma and looking over to you as I walked off the stage.”
Joe held the picture down in his lap as he looked toward the ceiling trying to access his memory of that night seventeen years earlier. “Don’t know, it was all a blur.”
Mary stood and positioned herself between Joe’s legs sticking out over the red futon to the floor. “I’ll tell you what I remember about that night.”
She took the picture from his hands and placed it on the floor beside them. She bent over and placed her hands on his sides pressing into him causing him to lean back.
“I remember us driving your car around to the back of the school later that night,” Mary said pressing her lips against his forehead.
“Mmm,” was the only sound Joe made as he tried to lift his head to kiss her.
She pushed his head back down and climbed on top of him, her legs spread over his hips as she kissed him. A few seconds had passed. Mary pushed herself up sitting on his lap as he supported her. His chest heaved up-and-down.
“Let’s see if I can help you with your memory,” Mary said.
13-Polaroid
PRESENT - Stony Brook 12:22 a.m.
1,829 Days Prior to Impact
JOE’S BREATH HUNG in clouds of condensation from his mouth as he walked up the steps of their townhouse. The cold, night air lingered making his walk from the train station that much faster.
As he unlocked the door to enter, Joe attempted to be as quiet as possible not to wake Mary. With his phone’s flashlight app, he managed the obstacle course of furniture from the front door to the kitchen and then to the home office.
Joe shut the door and turned on a desk lamp. Before lying on the red futon to rest, he sat behind the antique desk. He flipped through pictures of Mary and him saved on his phone in search of anything to make him sleepy.
Awe, the Shore. We had fun down there this summer.
A warm, yellow light emanated from the lamp lighting the dark home office. One-by-one, he scrolled through the images remembering a simpler time. A time before he had learned about the end of the world and their pending escape to Salvation.
And, to think, my only concerns were bills and getting ready to deliver a presentation.
Time faded fast away as it became 3:45 a.m. The pictures brought memories of innocence allowing him to take his mind off Colorado. Once he got to the beginning of the pictures from Christmas of 2013, he plugged the charger into his phone.
As his hand moved across the desk, Joe knocked over a small picture frame sitting on the corner. He sat it back into place as he smiled.
High school graduation. Now, that was a simpler time.
Joe squinted his eyes together through the half-dark room focusing on the picture.
Hmm…
He leaned across the desk inspecting it closer. A familiar question returned.
Who took this?
Joe turned over the frame, pushed up the velvet backing, and pulled out the Polaroid picture.
Mary said she didn’t. And, Grandma was up in the stands. This had to have been someone standing right in front of me?
This revelation along with the young girl earlier on the train platform further increased his paranoia. Joe turned the picture on its side, upside down, and back. He hoped to discover anything, something new. A clue of whom the photographer may have been and why his grandma had hidden the picture in the desk, many years before.
I’m going crazy now.
Frustrated, he threw the picture on the desk.
Light from the lamp reflected off the glossy front of the Polaroid picture lying face-up as it landed. As Joe moved his head, the light flickered across his eyes. A hidden memory resurfaced.
Hmm…
Joe picked up the picture again. The front of it stared at him in his hand taunting him.
I think I remember someone stepping in front of me when I came down those steps. Oh hell... that’s right... I remember a flash and then looking away.
Joe turned on the overhead light chasing away the shadows in the room. “Where did we put those…”
A box filled with pictures and old, home movies he had received after his grandma’s death sat under the red futon. Ripped packaging tape shattered the quietness in the room. Plastic videocassette tapes banged around inside as he dug through the box and its contained memories.
Minister Greene had sent the box to him after finding it when his church took over his home. The note the minister sent along with the box showed he thought Liz had made a mistake by not giving these to him.
Success. A white VCR tape labeled Joseph’s High School Graduation - 1997 sat under an assortment of pictures.
Joe and Mary’s home office served a dual-purpose as a guest bedroom. The only guest who had slept here was Charlie for the few nights he found himself in the doghouse with Becky. A small television with a built-in VCR player sat on a small dresser facing the futon.
Joe powered on the television and placed the tape inside pressing rewind. A whirring noise grew louder and faster as the tape got closer to its beginning. The increasing speed matched Joe’s racing heartbeat pounding through his sweatshirt.
A clunking thump preceded the video automatically playing. Joe’s anticipation grew waiting through the few seconds of static followed by a blue screen. His grandma’s voice shouted from the side speakers of the television.
Eleven years had passed since her funeral. His thoughts of his grandma had become more infrequent. Hearing her voice brought an unexpected emotional response from Joe. He gasped. Amusement followed when Joe saw his ei
ghteen-year-old self bouncing down the stairs of his Texas home.
“What are you looking for? I have your graduation cap right here.”
“Mom’s college school pin. I wanted to wear it today to honor her.”
“She would be so proud of this moment. Her baby graduating high school and going off to the same college she attended.”
Oh, my God, this seems like yesterday.
Static again filled the screen, fast replaced by his graduating class marching into his football stadium. Pomp and Circumstance played through the speakers. The image zoomed to Mary and panned across until Joe saw himself as he took his seat among all the graduating students.
Joe pressed fast-forward. The tape made a whizzing noise as it advanced. Amusing images of students walking across the stage one-by-one in double-time appeared.
When Joe saw his friend Bobby Avery walk across, he knew his name was soon. “Joseph Jacob Bishop,” the principal said.
Through the television, his grandma screamed at the same time causing the video to shake. The tremor on the screen settled down a little as Joe saw himself come down the steps.
The video revealed a forgotten memory. A man wearing a dark-gray jacket with a black hat stepped in front of Joe as he watched himself step down from the stage.
The man stopped, a small flash occurred, and the man disappeared from the camera. Joe saw on the television the man had stood close to him in that moment. But, Joe could not recall his face, only the recent memory of seeing a flash brought on by the reflected light from the Polaroid on his desk.
Joe pressed rewind as the images reversed on the screen. The people walked backward across the stage. He pressed play. “Joseph Jacob Bishop.”
Joe anticipated the moment. His finger held above the pause button. The video played as he watched himself shake the principal’s hand, walk down the steps, and the mystery man appeared. Joe pressed pause.
The image froze. The eighteen-year-old video, coupled with his grandma’s shaking, created a blurry image. Joe could not make out the man’s face.
He pressed rewind and then play. “Joseph Jacob Bishop.”
This time, Joe turned the volume up as loud as possible on the television. When the man appeared, Joe heard his grandma.
“Whoa… what?” Her words escaped from her between short breaths.
The screen panned following the man as Joe watched him stumbled out of sight. He never fell but rushed away as fast as he had appeared before Joe. The camera never caught his face, as only his back was visible.
As soon as the man disappeared on the screen, static appeared. Joe pressed fast-forward to check if anything else was on the tape. After thirty-seconds of nothing but static, he rewound the tape stopping it before the principal called his name, and pressed play.
“Joseph Jacob Bishop,” the principal said.
Joe watched himself walk across the stage. He paused the video at the moment a flash from the man’s camera occurred. The picture froze. Joe held the Polaroid picture beside the frozen image on the television screen.
Shit! This is the picture this man took?
The Monitor observing Joe saw his face from the camera installed in the television. It was a perfect placement for capturing all the movements made in the office.
But, the camera failed in one respect. The Monitor could not determine what Joe viewed on the television screen. Only that the name Joseph Jacob Bishop was said four times about a minute apart.
Upon the last time hearing Joe's name come from the television, the Monitor typed into her computer:
09/09/15 @ 04:20 a.m. - unsure what Subject is watching.
6:34 a.m.
THE IMAGE FROM Joe’s graduation night remained frozen on the television screen as an unknown man stood in front of him. The Polaroid picture taken that night eighteen-years ago leaned against the television as Joe sat slumped in the desk chair.
Night Seven had passed with little sleep. Both frozen images stole Joe’s blank stare. His half-opened eyelids no longer blinked.
Joe could not get beyond his discovery, he sat unsure if he was awake or seeing things. For two hours, he and the television remained in this frozen state until the living room lights came on. Mary was in the kitchen preparing her morning breakfast.
The lights snapped Joe from his trance causing him to straighten himself in his chair. He pressed the power button on the television and took the Polaroid picture to the kitchen.
“Hey, good morning. What time did you drag yourself home?”
“Uh… I… it was pretty late.” Joe gave her his typical morning kiss.
“What did you have for dinner last night?”
Joe sat at the table with the picture in his hands lost in his trance. Her question went unanswered.
Mary repeated her question. “What did you have… oh, what are you looking at?” Without a reply, he flipped the picture around to show what had stolen his concentration the past several hours.
“Oh, your graduation picture. Did the frame break?”
They are watching us.
“Hey, Mary, can we go outside? The light may be better out there. I want to show you something.”
“You’re lucky. The trash stinks anyway, so you need to take it out. But, I’ll go out there with ya.”
Joe opened the cabinet under the sink. The stench of eggshells and an empty milk carton invaded the kitchen. Joe pulled out the trash can and tied the bag.
“See, I told you, that stinks,” Mary said holding open the backdoor.
Mary followed Joe to the trash can in the backyard, while he placed the bag inside. He held the picture on top the closed lid.
“Are you sure you don’t remember Grandma ever talking about this picture or our graduation?”
Mary grabbed the picture from him to inspect it. “No, all I remember about this picture is you found in the desk a few years ago.” She gave the picture back to him. “The only thing I remember Liz saying about our graduation was how proud she was of you.”
“Do you remember her taking this picture, though?”
“The only picture I remember from then is my favorite picture ever. You know, the one where I jumped up on you and kissed ya.”
“Yeah, that’s my favorite, too. What about a cameraman, do you remember someone taking pictures as we walked off the stage?”
“Camera man? I’m sure there was, but I can’t remember anyone particular from way back then.”
What the hell? Tell her.
Joe’s confession about what he had seen in the video almost slipped from his lips until a strong, smoke smell followed them from the door.
“Shit! I left the eggs on the…” Mary ran by him back into the kitchen.
Joe followed and replaced the trash can under the sink. “They’re okay, I must’ve dropped some eggs on the stove,” Mary said.
He sat again and continued staring at the picture.
“Did you get any sleep last night?”
Joe looked at Mary and stuttered a response. “Uh, um.”
“Can you stay home today and promise me you’ll sleep?”
He placed the picture down on the table. “That’s a good idea. I’m so tired.”
“How ‘bout this, after breakfast, go upstairs and sleep. We’ve got that party to go to at Becky’s on Saturday, and it’s going to be a late night.”
“Party?”
“Don’t party me, Joseph. She invited us a month ago, because it’s the twins’ birthday, and they asked us to stay for drinks at their house.”
“I forgot.”
“That’s okay,” she said.
“No, it’s not. That’s right, Charlie wanted me to come over Friday night to help put together the swing set they’re giving the girls.”
“So, see. You need to stay home, today.”
Joe looked at the picture sitting on the table. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“I’m glad I don’t have to convince you.” Mary finished her breakfast and kissed the top
of his head. After placing her dishes in the sink and putting on her jacket, she prepared to leave for work. “I love you. Now, go back to bed.” She blew him a kiss as she closed the door.
Joe sat alone in the kitchen. His mind was in a haze. Remnants of smoke curled through the air.
She’s right. I need some sleep.
With a heavy sigh, Joe stood to go upstairs seeing across the living room he had left on the desk lamp. The closer he got to the office, his desk chair looked inviting. He sat turning off the lamp. Darkness filled the room. After a few moments, light reappeared as Joe put the picture back into its frame. He leaned back in the chair.
Memories of finding the picture several years earlier came to him. The angst Joe had felt from his grandma’s cryptic note in her will, haunted him. Liz’s voice grew louder in Joe’s head repeating the words Mr. Spivey had said at the reading: the truth is in the desk… the truth is in the desk.
Joe leaned forward. The spotlight of the lamp reflected off the picture, its origins continuing to taunt him.
What the hell? What did she mean by the truth is in the desk? All I ever found was this damn picture?
Minutes had passed. The Monitor observed Joe, who only stared straight ahead at the desk. Notes about Joe’s morning activities scrolled on the screen.
One note stood out: Subject appears to have fallen asleep at the desk for the past four hours.
The Monitor recorded Joe waking as he stood from his chair and left the office turning off the desk lamp. No sooner than the room went dark, bright lights filled the room, again. Joe rushed back turning on the overhead lights and got down on his knees in front of the desk.
Joe pulled his cell phone off its charger and activated its flashlight app. The phone’s white light lit the underside of the desk as he lay flat on the floor.
With his hand, he pressed upward on the hidden drawer causing it to pop open. He placed the phone into the dark void to determine if he had missed something from his earlier search.
His frustration grew as he found nothing. A deep, breathy sigh left his body as he placed his head sideways, flat against the floor. His phone’s flashlight created a reflection inside the small drawer.
