This is a fiction short story.
There used to be a wooden fence between our yards, and me and Becky were not allowed to go past it. The white paint on the fence, had peeled and faded, and now it was gray with age. Douglas Fir turns gray, you know.
Our father, two days after we moved in, forbid us to cross the fence. "It leads to nowhere," he said.
Becky was defiant naturally. And she had ideas about that fence. One week after our father's demand, my sister asked me if I would like to be in on a secret. Of course, I said. I knew the value of a mystery.
"You're going to be my lookout."
"For what?"
"You don't mind that. You just watch. If you see mom or dad, you start whistling, you hear?"
I nodded. I knew the value of hearing.
Becky had already found her hideouts down there past that aging fence. She was never a waster of time. On a cool but sunny February afternoon, my sister summoned and I stood watch along the fence. I watched Canada Geese flying above, whipping about in the winter wind, looking for a field to land in. I watched cottonball clouds race across the oceanblue sky. It was breezy and my hair frolicked about in the wind.
I waited for an eternity.
World War III is probably raging at home, I thought out loud.
"Doubtful."
Startled, I swung around. There was my sister. She had a friend with her. A Chinese friend. Or was she Japanese? How do you know?
"This is Ok," said Becky. "Hi," I said back, staring into eyes I had never seen. "Are you Chinese?" I asked.
Becky stopped me. "No silly, she's Korean."
The three of us walked to Seventh Avenue, where we shopped and people-watched.
Spring had arrived, and as the days got longer, so did Becky's forays across the banned fenceline. She had quit asking me to be her watchman, but I still kept an eye out anyways. One day in late March, Becky came bouncing back over the fence, smiling like she had found some treasure that had been hidden long ago.
"Whatcha doin'?" she asked, not annoyed with me being there without a reason.
"Nothing."
"I got something really cool," she beamed.
"What is it?"
She sat down, leaning her back against the fence, as she opened her bag.
She pulled out a camera, and set her bag on the grassy ground next to her. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked as she opened it, the black leather bellow folding neatly out, exposing a shiny lens.
"I guess."
"You better guess. This camera is my heaven."
I didn't know what that meant. But it was beautiful, and it looked good in her hands, as she showed me what the focus ring was, and how the shutter worked. I didn't know it then, but that day would change my life.
"You got this from Ok?" I asked.
"Yeah, she said I would love it and I do."
"How do you know how to use it?"
"Ok showed me. It has film in it right now."
"Can I see?"
"No silly. You take the picture and then you have to take it to Payless to have it developed."
"How are you going to do that?" I asked, unsure of this new predicament. Becky didn't have money.
"I don't know yet," she said, climbing to her feet. "C'mon, let's get going on the path down to the river. We'll get some pictures of the water." Becky folded the camera inwardly, like an expert, and we bound down the trail.
I swam, and Becky took a few photos. "Film comes in rolls of eight shots," said my sister, "so I gotta watch it."
Over the next few days, Becky would be perched in various spots, squinting as if she was an professional at the camera. After a week or so, I didn't see the camera much, and I assumed Becky had used up the roll of film.
Summer would come, June showered us with rain and daffodils, July got unbearably hot, and summer drifted into August. Becky had taken to herself, and I had found some new friends. I had forgotten about the camera, and Ok. I hadn't seen either in two months.
One fine morning in late August, as the radio played in the kitchen and the morning sun was all my eyes could take, I sat toying with a new Hot Wheels Camaro, intent on driving the muscle car across the breakfast table all morning.
"Want to go photographing with me?"
Becky was standing next to the window, gazing at the faded fence a hundred yards up the hill.
Of course I went with her.
I grabbed an apple on the way out the door, and I don't know why, but ten feet off the porch, I turned and returned to the kitchen to retrieve another apple.
Becky showed me how to use the camera. "It's a Zeiss Ikon," she said, "and this is the shutter, press this when you are ready to take the photograph."
"How do I know when?"
"When you like what your eyes see, point the Zeiss and press the shutter."
We walked around on top of the hill that along with the fence, marked our boundary. Becky showed me things to look for. "If it's pretty, stop and look."
We came to the tallest fencepost, as far as we could go, and sat down in the soft clover, wiping our brows with our forearms.
"Want an apple?" I asked.
Becky said yes and we sat there in the sun, a soft breeze cooling our brows, as we munched Honeycrisp apples.
It was the most fun I had seen all summer, even after riding bikes and playing GI Joe. And it was when I became a watcher of things, I suppose.
Two days later, a letter came in the mail from back east. It was addressed to Miss Becky Trudell, and I knew it was a birthday card from Grandpa. He liked to write letters and he liked to write proper and articulately. "Miss" was his way of sounded educated. He knew us kids liked it.
"What's it say?" I asked, peering over her shoulder.
"What
does it say, you mean?"
"Yes," I said.
"It's a birthday card silly," Becky laughed, pulling an unidentifiable bill from the bright yellow birthday greeting card, "want to go downtown?" The card had five dollars in it.
After I said yes, we walked to the fence, and then up the hill to where the grass was two feet tall. Becky looked back down into our yard, and then bent down towards the fence, and removed a nail-less picket board from the fence.
"After you," she said.
Where we going?
To get Ok and then go to Sherman's.
Sherman's was the cafe on Lyon Street, along the Alexandrea River. We went there often, and Big Lou always gave us free sodas. Dad said Big Lou knew baseball "better than any man alive," and I believe that, because Lou is always reading the boxscores.
We cross the fence and head down the west side, towards the big fir trees that everyone says are old as dirt. We stop in the canopy and wait.
"What are we waiting for?"
"Ok, silly."
In a few minutes, Ok appeared, looking brightly odd and out of place among the greenery of the tall grass and taller fir trees. She had on a bright green shirt with orange letters that said
No More Carrots Please! and neon pink pants that were too big. The bottoms were rolled up and showed red moccasins.
It was the strangest clothing I had ever seen. I looked at Becky, who then looked at Ok.
"You think we should go eat or go shopping," she asked Ok.
Ok shrugged, eyeballing me eyeballing her.
"Shopping then," said Becky, and we all headed to town.
At Hal's Department Store, I followed Becky and Ok around as they picked out clothes. I watched a little old lady in heels purchase a bottle of perfume that I could smell a mile away. I hate perfume.
I hadn't noticed, but when Becky summoned me and I approached the bell-pole where my sister stood, I realized I hadn't seen Ok in at least fifteen minutes.
"Where's Ok?"
"She is changing clothes," Becky said, smiling like she had a new toy.
And then I saw.
Ok was standing there, in between racks of dresses and leggings, and she looked beautiful, like one of those women you see in clothing advertisements.
"I like it," said Becky.
"Me too," said Ok.
Becky reached into her pack, and she pulled out the Zeiss.
"I was wondering where that was," I said.
"I been saving my last shot," my sister replied. She was always thinking ahead, ready for the world. I didn't have that kind of focus. Dad said I was in a "stupor, a daily stupor." I didn't know what that meant. I didn't want to know.
Becky said we were going to be in the picture. "All of us", she said.
I watched as she turned a knob, then another. She pointed the lens at Ok and ushered me to a spot next to Ok. Becky then set the camera on a table full of cosmetics, and pushed a red lever.
She walked and smiled, and took a spot next to Ok and I.
I don't have that photo, and I haven't seen it in years, maybe decades, but I still have the Zeiss, and I still take photos. These days, I have modern equipment, but the idea is still the same. Capture moments, especially the ones you want to cherish.
