Time's Daughter

by Anya Breton

  When I left the room my mood was a mix between dismay at no doubt bombing the test and anticipation. Alex wasn’t sick. He was back and I couldn’t wait to see him again.

  * * * *

  I hurried through the hallway with my bag barely on my shoulder. My hurry broke into a run when I spotted him heading toward me. Alex was laughing when we reached each other. I threw my arms around him for a hug that lasted several seconds.

  It was lovely to feel his arms squeezing me and having his warmth around me. I had been so worried for him. And I’d missed him dearly.

  But I owed him one thing. I tugged my arm back then punched him in the arm.

  “That was for laughing at me,” I grumbled near his ear. “And for not sending so much as a note. You have a hundred family members. One of them could have dropped word off.”

  “I’m sorry, Aeon,” he squeezed my sides tightly. “I spent most of the time ranting and railing at them to let me leave. I thought you’d prefer to see me in person than read my chicken scratch.”

  “Anything from you would have been better than nothing.” I informed him then softened my hard-edged eyes. “But you’re here now.”

  He pulled back to look at my face. “I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

  I let myself smile broadly, an expression that spread my lips wide until my cheeks ached from it.

  “Come on, we’ll be late,” he said.

  We left Guy in the hallway behind us while Peter followed into history class. The highlight of the forty-minute period was handing in that week’s paper. Briefly I considered hanging onto it and asking for an extension. But with one paper due a week, I decided I could probably afford to have at least one awful assignment.

  Reluctantly Alex left me for his next two classes but vowed to meet me for lunch at the tree. I gnawed on my fingernails impatiently through the two hours, barely listening to what was said. Dimly I recognized that an assignment was being given moments before the bell rang. I hastily scribbled it down in my notebook, saw the face at the door and shot up to go to him. It was a nice surprise to see him there when we’d agreed to meet outside.

  The amused smile on his face was more adorable than the little chuckle he gave. “I’m getting the impression that you might have missed me a little.”

  “You have no idea,” I responded with a dramatic widening of my eyes.

  “It’s nice to be missed. But not nearly as nice as not having to be missed.” He leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Think we can ditch these guys?”

  I nodded eagerly and followed him as we darted through the crowd. Try as we might, one of the cameramen kept up with our steps at every turn. We gave up after our third attempt failed and eventually went outside. Beneath the tree Alex adjusted our poses until my head rested against his shoulder and his arm was curled around me. The air was chilly but I was warm with him.

  Alex spoke first. “Are you free after work tomorrow?”

  “Yes.”

  “And are we still on for apple picking Sunday?”

  I shifted enough to look at his face. “Sunday? I don’t know. I never asked my mom because I…well, I wasn’t sure…” I glanced at the camera nervously then finished my thought, “If you were going to be well enough to go.”

  Stealthily I wiped the tear that had threatened to drop from my eye. Now that he was here, it was easier to admit to myself that I’d thought I might never see him again and that it had scared me nearly to death.

  He pressed a soft kiss to my left temple. “Ask her. We’ll understand if she’s busy.”

  “Okay.”

  His next words were grumbled with petulance, “Do you really have to work tonight?”

  I sounded rather like he did when I replied. “Unfortunately.”

  Alex leaned in to whisper directly into my ear, “Meet me tonight.” He masked it with a kiss then pulled back to help me onto my feet. “Your stomach is growling like crazy. Let’s get something to eat.”

  We grabbed sandwiches from the lunch line on our way to the photography studio. Alex had some last minute work to do before the first quarter project critique. I had no idea how he would pull off finishing it in time after missing most of the quarter.

  I nibbled on my sandwich crusts while watching him work near the matte cutter. He wouldn’t let me peek at his work. I could wait to see it.

  Something told me Alex would have something amazing to show us.

  * * * *

  My stomach was upset for a different reason when Mrs. Lozano called attention five minutes after the bell rang. Critique always twisted up my insides. I was working on not taking constructive criticism of my artwork personally but it was still hard.

  Mrs. Lozano took volunteers to show their work first. Several projects were displayed, critiqued and met with varied reactions. Most students had yet to master anything but point and shoot. The myriad of photos of flowers, trees and buildings were far from interesting but everyone was kind. I forced myself to give a comment about each project, even if it was only to say that I’d enjoyed the contrast on images that had been unintentionally underexposed.

  “Aeon?” The photography teacher said my name in a hopeful tone. “Would you like to show your work now?”

  I nodded reluctantly then pulled the four photographs I’d decided on out of my backpack. Three days without Alex had given me plenty of time to mount them on gray matte board. None of the others except Alex had bothered to do so.

  With mock confidence I spoke. “I chose to focus on three D’s for my project: dilapidated, derelict, decrepit. But I didn’t want to just show what the eye saw. I wanted to do something more like macro-photography. So here is what I came up with.” I stepped aside, dropped my eyes nervously and let them take aim with words.

  No one said anything. I hadn’t realized my photos were quite that bad. Had I made a poor choice? Should I have printed photos of entire buildings in disrepair instead of focusing on specific elements?

  “They’re beautiful, Aeon,” Mrs. Lozano spoke at last. “There’s a kind of visual poetry to each one. Even without the big picture, the message comes across.”

  Alex’s deep voiced soon joined in the discussion. “And though you originally focused on your three D’s, each photograph fuses the feeling of neglect with one of hope. Here you show crumbling stone with the contrast of a newly budding flower.”

  “Excellent observation, Alex,” Mrs. Lozano commented. “Anyone else?”

  “They’re interesting,” one of the twins replied flatly.

  “I like the frames around them. They make the pictures stand out,” another classmate added.

  Mrs. Lozano nodded. “Yes, matting wasn’t a requirement but it certainly does improve the photo.” She paused to wait for more comments then nodded at me politely when no one spoke. “Thank you, Aeon. Alex, would you go next?”

  I took my photos with me to my chair and turned back anxiously to see what it was that Alex had finished. He too had four matted photographs. One by one he placed them above thumbtacks for all to see.

  The first was little more than a silhouette with eyes amidst a room that was alternately dark and light because of the windows behind the subject. The subject’s eyes were the only items in the composition that held any importance. They were so sorrowful that my heart went out to the model.

  Two grizzled figures warming their hands over a flaming oil drum were the subjects of the next photograph. I knew Alex had shot it within the old mill because he’d described it to me afterward. But the crevices of their faces were so intricately displayed in shadow that he hadn’t done it justice in his description.

  Alex’s third photograph was startling because I recognized the subjects. His uncle Antonio stood at the head of the dock behind his house gazing across the wood to the figure seated at the water’s edge. The figure’s smaller size and hunched back made me think it was probably his aunt Alicia but I couldn’t be sure because she was looking away from the camera. The set of Antonio’s s
houlders and the expression his profile held could only be described as longing.

  So far the pieces he was displaying were amazing. The fact that he’d shot, developed and printed them in two and a half weeks time while everyone else had four weeks was even more mind-boggling. Alex was a talented artist, of that there was no question.

  All eyes turned to me when he flipped over the fourth photograph. I blushed crimson at the sight of my own figure on his photo paper. At some point last Thursday, Alex had caught me staring into the sunset and snapped a picture without me realizing it.

  My pensive expression must have interested him enough to capture it. But I didn’t understand why it had the captivation needed to be one of the four photos he’d picked from two rolls of film.

  “Originally I’d decided to work on capturing photos of ‘despair’ but I decided to contrast the despair with photographs of ‘hope’,” Alex explained in a voice that oozed confidence. “The first two photographs are of homeless in town. The last two are of family and friends that will no doubt kill me for snapping these photos without permission.”

  I frowned at him but said nothing. No one else in the class was brave enough to critique his beautiful photographs.

  Then a single female voice spoke up. “Is that Aeon?”

  Alex’s dark head bobbed. “Yes.”

  “It barely looks like her but I thought so.”

  “It looks exactly like her,” he argued firmly. His eyes went a little fierce to emphasize exactly how much he meant the woods.

  I had to admit my classmate was correct. Something was strange about the photograph. It was almost as if he’d used a different lens. I didn’t look quite like myself in it. Perhaps it was because the black and white coloring gave me a Film Noir heroine look.

  Since he’d critiqued mine, I returned the favor. “The setting, light choice and exposure time on your first photograph were expertly chosen to create a stunning focal point. Those eyes tell the complete story without the need to see anything else.

  “The depth of field in photo number two brings the focus where it should be, on the faces that have a line for each sorrow they’ve experienced. I could sit here all afternoon tracing the patterns of those lines imagining what each one signifies.

  “Photographs three and four are similarly brilliantly executed but I disagree on their theme. The third one, to me, illustrates longing, not hope. The gentleman near the dock is obviously longing to speak to the female but something is holding him back.

  “And as far as the photograph of me, because I know my own thoughts, I know when I’m staring into the sun like that, I’m not being hopeful at all. I too am longing.”

  The look in his eyes after I’d finished speaking startled me. There was intent in their gleam I knew meant he would not be quite so still and silent if we’d not been in a classroom full of people. My gaze dropped to where my hands fidgeted in my lap while I contemplated what that intent was. Was he upset that I’d disagreed about the images showing “hope”?

  Mrs. Lozano spoke next. “I couldn’t have critiqued the first photographs any better if I’d tried. But I can see how the second two photographs could be viewed as ‘hope’. It’s all in the perception of the viewer. Of course, you as the subject know that you weren’t in a particularly hopeful mood when that was shot. But a person gazing into the sunset could be construed as being hopeful that the next day will be better or enjoying the beauty of the landscape. And the shot of the man behind the woman could have been the moment right before she turned to him at long last. Anyone else?”

  “I like the frames on these too,” our classmate declared.

  Mrs. Lozano cleared her throat then nodded to Alex. “Thank you, Alex. Very strong work. Who is next?”

  One by one Alex took down his photographs. I kept my eyes lowered to avoid the odd expression on his face. He took his seat behind me but didn’t try to speak to me.

  We were treated to one more presentation. The subject of this one was “muscle cars”. It interested me little. Neither Alex nor I added anything to the discussion of how “cool” the cars looked at the angles he’d picked, which consisted of right and left views as well as front and back.

  “Monday we start on project number two so come ready for lecture,” the teacher told us as we wrote our names on the back of our photos and handed them in.

  I pulled my backpack strap up over my shoulder and started for the door. I’d moved a few bare steps before a grip on my wrist tugged me aside and into the darkroom door. Without looking I knew it was Alex who had pulled me into the room.

  He soon tugged me directly into the wall of his chest. His hands slipped into my hair to hold my head firmly in place for his urgent kiss. Any thought in my head fled in an instant. I reveled in the feel of his lips against mine, the warmth that was spreading across my skin.

  The bell rang ruining the moment. Alex pulled back with a grumble. Reluctantly he slid his fingers out of my hair. A slight shiver shot through me.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” he apologized with what looked to be flushed cheeks but it was hard to tell in the red light. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene but I couldn’t wait. What you said…about my photos, it was so nice that I had to thank you somehow.”

  “But I disagreed with you,” I reminded him quietly.

  He took my hands for a squeeze. “The fact that you were willing to disagree with me made it all the better. It means you really meant what you said about the others. I know I can count on you to give me your real opinion, not just what you think I want to hear.”

  My head cocked to the left as I stared at him in confusion.

  In a darker voice he said, “I want a girlfriend, Aeon. Not a sycophant.”

  “Wow.” I laughed nervously on my way toward the door. “There had to have been someone who was willing to give you her opinion...”

  “It doesn’t matter now. There’s only you.”

  I avoided commenting on it by returning into the lit classroom. Thankfully everyone was gone already including Mrs. Lozano. We snuck out of the room but paused in front of the drawing room door.

  “You’re going to be late,” I told him as if he needed the reminder.

  “I know.”

  “We’ll see each other later.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes.” With a light push to his arm and a laugh I sent him on his way.

  I watched his impressive figure disappear down the hall and couldn’t help but smile to myself.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Stan was waiting at my desk with yet another CD when I got into the drawing room. My smile didn’t wane. I snatched it from his hand and eagerly read the label.

  My music buddy’s voice interrupted my perusal. “You’re dating Alex Chattan?”

  I lifted my eyes from the plastic in front of me slowly because I’d been reading a long title. Stan’s steady expression gave me no indication of how he felt about his question. Carefully I replied, “Yes, is that bad?”

  He quickly shook his head. “Nah. He’s just crazy smart. He’s in my math class.” Stan snickered and grinned. “Pissing me off actually. He’s screwing up the bell curve.”

  I felt my lips spread into a smile. “I guess he wasn’t fibbing when he told me he was good at math.”

  Stan leaned against my drawing desk. “You’re friends with that redhead, aren’t you?”

  “Um, maybe?”

  “Ashley?” Stan prompted. “She’s been flirting with him like a desperate girl at prom, or at least trying.” Stan’s eyes slid shut as he gave a disappointed shake of his head. “Might want to watch your back with that girl.”

  I inhaled a long, irritated breath of air. “I’ve never really considered her my friend anyway but thanks for the heads up.”

  “No prob,” Stan drawled then slowly made his way to his own table.

  It was easy not to be upset about his revelation. Alex had made his interest known to anyone who was willing to look at us. A
nd even though I’d only known him a very short time, I trusted that he wouldn’t give Ash the time of day.

  Rain and chilly temperatures meant we’d be holding P.E. class inside the gym today. I stepped onto the court to find Tyler already tossing around a basketball. A grumble escaped me because I was tired of basketball.

  Without warning Alex shot from the locker room across the glossy gymnasium floor until he was inches in front of me. His fingers slipped around my sides so he could lift me off my feet. Alex swung me as he hugged me and kissed my cheek hug. Then he set me down on my feet where I wavered slightly from rubbery knees.

  “Sorry,” Alex told me with what sounded like an annoyed sigh.

  My eyebrows lifted because he’d seemed happy seconds earlier. “For what?”

  His lips turned down into a soft pout. “I was going to meet you at your class and walk with you but the teacher held me late to complain about my absence.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Aww, how sweet.”

  He flicked my nose then tugged my arm to pull me over to where the others were congregated.

  “Hey, you’re back. Was starting to think you’d moved away.” Tyler smacked Alex on the shoulder. He lifted his chin in my direction. “Hey, Aeon.”

  I merely nodded back. It was surprising that Tyler knew my name.

  Tyler’s attention switched back to Alex. “Summer is having a party at her place tonight. You guys should come.”

  It seemed odd that a girl with a camera crew would hold a party and invite other people with camera crews. How much fun could the party be if it were being recorded from four different angles? I supposed it didn’t really matter; Summer’s parties were the ones everyone wanted to go to.

  Alex answered for us both. “Thanks for the invite but I think I’ll take a rain check. I’m still getting over whatever I had for the past few days.”