by Anne Eliot
We hook up the basket while Patrick and Laura gather around. All four of us are puffing out streams of excited, frozen breath clouds as we take the beauty of this place.
Cam pulls his Nikon out of the bag and we all watch silently while I secure it into the basket. Cam attaches the pulley into the strap and ties the camera down into the basket. Then, I pull on the rope. It sticks at first while the branch creaks overhead as it goes into motion, raining bits of frozen ice down over our heads. But without a glitch, the camera rises smoothly into the branches high above us and then settles partially out of sight behind some branches.
My heart starts beating so fast, wondering what these shots are going to look like that it almost hurts to have to be patient.
Cam ties off the rope and hands me the shutter remote. “We can’t afford to wait to look at shots. Let’s each get to a rope. We are on borrowed time and with the way the air’s heating up, I think this is going to be all melted off in less than an hour. If the photos come out even half as beautiful as what we are seeing here on the ground, there’s no stopping us. This—these photos—are going to blow everyone away! Laura, you too. Get out that insane Irish smart phone and just…do your best. Okay?”
Laura hugs herself and smiles, looking around. “He’s right. We’re photographing a fairy-land that no one ever gets to see. I’m so inspired right now I can hardly breathe.”
Patrick nods in agreement. “Ellen, if you let me take some shots with your cell phone while you’re doing the Nikon, I think that even I might be able to be a decent photographer today.”
“Do it.” I hand over the phone as a splash of ice-melt hits my cheek. “Everyone, just go! Photograph anything and everything.”
He grabs Laura’s arm and drags her to the trees at the far side of the grove. “Come on, Laura. Let’s go make history. If my shots suck, we could consider making out. I mean…it’s a very romantic setting for a second kiss, don’t you think?”
Laura rolls her eyes. “I’ll be saving my right to punch you after we’re back inside and you’re out of that puffy jacket because there’s going to be no kissing but my next punch is going to hurt you. A lot.”
He laughs. “Always trying to get my clothes off.”
She mutters under a laugh, “I’ll be serving you up two punches now, cheeky, giant bastard.”
Cam and I laugh, relaxing into the project. I’ve been sneaking peeks at his face and even he seems to have momentarily forgotten what we’re facing.
When I’m lowering the Nikon, ready to attach it to the basket over the tiny lagoon, we can’t help but pause to look at a few shots. Suddenly, all we can do is grin, click to the next photo, grin more and say, “Wow!”
Cam meets my gaze. “We could stop now, you know? There’s enough here in this one batch to make us both as famous as Ansel Adams.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Well…maybe not quite as good as the Mr. Adams, but you know these are better than good. You’re a visionary. This plan…it’s the coolest idea.”
I feel my face grow hot. “I couldn’t have done it without you. So…on to the next rope! If we think these are great, let’s see what sort of shots that one’s going to bring.”
As we hook up the Nikon on the next tree, and Cam sets up his iPhone as well, a few more heavy and extra cold drops of water hit my face, and then Cam’s and I have to laugh. “We should have brought umbrellas. We got so worried about the wind we didn’t think about melting ice!”
“Next time. We’ll do this every year. Promise?”
I grin. “Every year, wherever we are. We’ll have to find a pretty place to do winter-ice shots.”
“If we can’t do the lake, we can do a river. Or a pond.”
I add. “If we end up in Vancouver of course we will do…”
“Ocean. Ice and sea kayaks!”
My heart flips with an instant longing to go canoeing with this guy. “That settles it. We’re going to Vancouver.”
He laughs. “Done.”
Again, Cam’s grinning and I’m grinning because we’re together—really together—and we’re both doing what we love.
Together.
And together we can do so much more! My mind soars with the possibilities of what that means and I let the idea of Cam and I going off together some day take hold. I can’t believe how amazing it feels to trust and to believe in another person like this. I never thought…I never let myself dream how this could feel. And the best part, despite this entire strange morning with his mom and my mom still trying to text in to my phone. I’m absolutely not afraid.
“I want every single moment of every single day to feel like this,” I say.
“So do I.”
“It will.”
When he walks over, pulls off his gloves and takes my face into his very warm hands, his thumbs going gently over my cheek, I get more butterflies than I can stand.
He whispers, “I’m so happy you have enough confidence for both of us. What would I do without your strength?”
I laugh, stepping closer, turning my face up towards his, admiring how the silver gray in his eyes matches the ice and the flocked trees perfectly. “It’s only fair. Me, holding you up once in awhile, don’t you think?”
He bends down and kisses me while he’s laughing into my mouth. His breath and the curve of his smile tickle the edges of my lips, making me laugh as well. His low rumbling chuckles pulse and surround me, and his grin widens as he kisses me like he’s never going to stop.
That’s when I decide there might be no better kisses than the ones that happen when you’re laughing all the way into each other’s hearts.
*Pinches arm. Hopes. Prays. Begs the universe to let me stay just a little longer inside this amazing dream.*
cam
I’m on the football field for the playoff game. Of course I’m playing today—just how I said I’d be playing. So is Patrick. It’s the end of the second quarter and we haven’t missed one minute of playtime, either.
It’s exactly what I knew would happen. Coach has called a time out before the half. He wants to tick down the clock, but instead of huddling with the team and listening to that guy and my dad spew orders, I’m hanging far off to the side, ignoring everyone and trying to catch sight of Ellen in the bleachers.
She’s here, sitting with Laura and Patrick’s mom in the very spot at the edge of the bleachers where she sat the other time she came to a game. The sight of her dark, shining hair in the distance just makes me want to drop out of the game…run over and talk to her.
But of course, I can’t and I won’t. My dad’s so on edge he might actually lose his mind if I do that. Although…with regards to my dad’s mind. I’ve sort of stopped caring.
That’s because he obviously doesn’t care about mine. He only cares about football, yet again, and always. Right now he’s got the guys in a huddle and he’s screaming about something. He knows I’m about to snap, so for the first time in my life he hasn’t even tried to order me to report to the huddle. It feels strange…but it feels good. Like I’ve got nothing to lose. Besides Ellen, of course. She’s currently the only thing that matters to me.
We’ve got the ball with only a few minutes remaining. Coach wants to be sure as much time as possible goes by before we try to score. This will ensure they can’t score back on us before halftime hits, but I don’t care about any of that. I only care that halftime will give me the chance to ditch the locker room and hopefully sit with Ellen for a few minutes.
A move that’s going to surprise everyone, piss off my dad and my coach even more, if that’s possible. But again, I don’t care. They can do what they want to me, but they can’t control where I walk and where I sit when the whistle blows. And they’re so focused on winning this darn playoff game they’re going to ignore what I
do and put me back on the field either way. My dad will deal with me and my rebellion later. When no one is looking. Turn my screws a little tighter.
Silly of me to think a girlfriend would be enough to get myself kicked off the team. But of course, it did get me good and grounded. My parents have practically nailed me to the wall simply because I refuse to break up with Ellen.
I’ve been living in total lock down. I’ve had no cell phone since the day we completed the digi-photo project. Dad ramped right in as soon as he got inside our garage. He started with making threats and sending me to my room. Of course with all of the usual yelling and dictator type conversations. Only this time, they were both yelling at me instead of each other.
Ha…two people who hate each other are yelling at me for falling in love! The world, my world, is really so twisted.
Dad never turned over the keys to the Nissan Pathfinder. I knew he wouldn’t. That car was just another way for him to turn screws and control me and my life even more. He thinks a dude with no car is some sort of ultimate and painful punishment that would make me give in to his demands that I break it off with Ellen.
But me, having no car, is actually a gift. The bus is the only extended chance I’ve had to hang out with Ellen—my girlfriend—all week! I’ve apologized for failing at being that heroic guy who gets to drive her to school, but Ellen swears she doesn’t mind one bit. Every day this week, while she’s leaned her head against my arm and sighed up at me, I’ve let myself believe in her ideas that this is going to work out.
Even though I don’t see how it will work out.
Not with my father standing in our way. Ellen’s got this dreamy idea that she and I have some sort of say in things. That we have control over our lives right now. She doesn’t understand my parents and how strong they can be when they feel like I’m opposing them.
Sadly, I know I’ll get the car back sooner rather than later because Dad’s practically stalking me. He’s spent the entire week locking down every movement I make. If the guy didn’t like sleeping in so much, he’d already have followed me down to the damn bus stop and he’d have seen me with Ellen and then he’d kill the only chance I have to hang out with her they haven’t stolen away.
Mom, of course, is clueless. She assumes Ellen’s on some lower-class bus stop because Ellen lives ‘outside’ the club neighborhood. In her mind, those kids are on a ‘different’ bus. I’ve not clued her in that the golf course bus is still only yellow and black, not gold plated and obnoxious like everything else in her life that she values.
My parents have taken my laptop, dug out my old iPod Touches from my closets and theirs, locked up all of the iPads, and even my mom’s Kindle Fire just in case I might have access to any text apps or internet communication possibilities. They made me shut down my Facebook and Instagram accounts—while they watched—and just in case there’s some social media my parents aren’t aware of, they’ve actually rallied and turn off the entire internet server and cable TV the second I come in the house! I know there’s no way that idea can last because Dad’s already freaking out without the endless sports shows playing all night long. They’ve also taken my credit card and access to the checking account that is full of my very own money. In my mind, they’ve stolen it, but they say they’re protecting me and the money because I might do something rash because I’m out of my head over a girl.
If they only knew Ellen is the only thing keeping me with them. I had about four thousand dollars in that account. Enough to walk out of this town forever! If they mess up things between me or if they hurt Ellen in any way, as soon as things calm down and they think I’ve returned to being their little football playing puppet, I’m going to take that money and move out. I don’t need them. With four thousand dollars I can get an apartment, land a job and make my own way to finishing high school and then college. At least I think it’s enough.
I don’t need them running my life. Not like this.
In the meantime, while we all wait each other out, I’ve figured out a temporary way around them. I can’t wait to tell Ellen the plan. After this game, I’m going to convince Laura’s Aunt Judith to drive me to get one of those pay-as-you-go phones. She’s a romantic at heart. Laura says she’s going to go ‘nutter’ when she hears the story of our ‘tragic and star crossed love’. I hope that’s true, because without Laura’s aunt, I’m sunk. Laura and Patrick have been really nice through all of this. Sending notes, passing along messages and helping Ellen and I come up with ways to communicate, but I really just want to talk to Ellen without messengers in the middle.
I’ve brought along my stockpile of two hundred dollars cash—birthday money that was thankfully hidden in my room or my parents would have pocketed it. Right now it’s locked safe in my locker so I can leave directly from this game to go get the phone. It’s not enough to get a new iPod Touch or any sort of tablet, but it is enough to get a decent smart phone and enough to pay for at least one month of service so I can have text and email with Ellen until I can figure my way around this internet shut out.
I now totally understand what it must feel like to be a drug addict, waiting to go out and spend my money on a fix. Right now, I can almost feel my fingers twitching with the need to type pages and pages of stuff to Ellen. Yesterday, I got so desperate, I actually stole a stamp and some letterhead from the school office so I could write Ellen a letter!
I hid in the bathroom, wrote a crazy, awkward babble, shoved in a little gift for her, and then before I lost my nerve, I snuck it back into the office mail pile when no one was looking. I actually don’t even remember what I wrote beyond telling her how much I love her over and over again. But…fine. What’s sent is what’s sent. I hope she likes it.
Ellen keeps using the word patience. She has this steadfast idea that all of this will sort itself out, but I’m going insane. All I want to do is have a normal relationship. I should be able to do that. Take her out, hold her hand, walk down to the lake, watch sunsets, movies—heck—just normal stuff. It’s such a joke. I’ve got straight A’s, never broken a rule in my life, never been drunk or high or anything but good, and my parents are treating me like some sort of deviant criminal!
The day after he got back home, which was Tuesday, Dad went to the principal behind my back and had me moved out of Ellen’s digi-photo class to one that’s the same class, but held during another period! When I tried to swap it back and tell the principal what my dad was about, that rat-bastard told me he supported my coach and my father’s decisions in all things that will help the school and help me stay focused on my football game!
No one even cared that I needed to edit the final WOA photographs. Ellen, Laura, Patrick and I actually had to meet up at lunch to do the, then to make sure all was turned in on time, I stayed after school. That made me really late to football which of course earned me another public-yelling session.
I shouldn’t have pushed dad’s buttons by being late to practice because that very next day, Dad was all over the damn school. He was everywhere, and it didn’t take him long to find out the four of us were still having lunch together in Miss Brown’s classroom. So, that afternoon, he ordered the entire team to report for extra lunchtime weight lifting! Since that day, in case I should get lost, my dad actually shows up at my locker and escorts me directly to the locker room. I go with him, because if he’s with me, then I know he’s not lurking around, waiting to pounce on Ellen. Something she does not deserve.
If he tries to scare her or yell at her how he’s yelled at me this week, he’s going to be very sorry. I at least stood up to him enough to tell him that. I threatened that I wouldn’t touch another football for the rest of my life. Thankfully, because of that little speech, Dad’s left Ellen completely alone. It’s the only win I’ve had, but it’s been enough to keep me sane.
As the whistle blows signaling the end of the time out, I glance at the clock, r
elieved that I will be talking to Ellen in less than two minutes. We all walk back onto the field, and I try to muster some energy for this last play, because my heart’s not in it at all. The guys are counting on me to make some huge moves for this playoff game because Dad convinced some recruiters from Michigan to attend this game.
From what I’ve heard the other guys saying, they’re from Ann Arbor and Michigan State. I figure they are probably easy to spot because of school colors, but again, my eyes are only for Ellen. My dad says the recruiters are here just to hang out with him, which is partly true, he let it slip that they are also here looking at me and Patrick for next year’s picks.
This means, that by default, they are also looking at our senior players and the team as a whole. Some of the seniors would love spots down in Michigan next year. If we lose this game—if we don’t even make it to the final playoffs—then those guys probably don’t have a chance for any scholarships, so I need to get my head on straight.
Play a clean game. Do the right thing. This is not just about me and my dad…this is other people’s entire futures at stake here.
To get myself amped up, I start thinking about my dad, his face, his stupid shouting and ever critical expression. It works. My anger spikes. Then I imagine the principal’s self-serving face telling me there’s no chance to get back to my original digi-photo class with Ellen and my pulse races even more. Then I picture the dirty looks from my whole team while we’ve had to lift the extra weights all week long.
All of the guys, besides Patrick, of course have backed my dad and Coach. As a group, and more than once, they’ve attacked me and ordered me to break up with Ellen on numerous occasions! As I look around at each of them, my adrenaline spikes along with my anger. I have the urge to punch each and every one of them who had the nerve to tell me, indirectly to break Ellen’s heart.
