Jumpstart the World (8 page)

“We can dance, though,” Frank said. “We’re good dancers.”

“What kind of dancing?”

“Ballroom.”

“You’re kidding. How weird.” Then I realized I was being rude. “I don’t mean weird.” But it
was
weird. Really. In a way. “I just mean, like … you don’t see that a lot anymore.”

“Ballroom dancing is still very popular.”

“Oh. Well, maybe not with the high school crowd. Are we talking about like Arthur Murray stuff? Like in old Fred Astaire movies?”

“Very loosely speaking.”

“Can I see?”

We moved the couch back to the wall, and they put on an actual vinyl record, the kind you need an old turntable to play.

“Benny Goodman,” Molly said as she set the needle down.

“Who’s Benny Goodman?”

“One of the old original swing-band leaders from the thirties and forties,” Frank said.

“You weren’t even born then.” Oh God. I hoped not. “Were you?” Then I realized how hugely dumb that was. Of course not.

“No, but I still know good music when I hear it.”

The record started playing, and it was like one of those instrumental big-band songs you would hear on the soundtrack of a movie about a big World War II army dance at the USO club.

Then they danced for me.

First, it made me uncomfortable. Because the minute they started dancing, they just totally focused on each other. Totally. They were looking right into each other’s eyes and smiling, and it was so clear and so real that they were a team. An old, practiced team. A team that nothing and nobody could get in the way of.

Not that I had ever planned to try. But still.

I’m not really sure why I do that. Or even how. Like when I
want something not to be true, I sort of feel like it isn’t. Like I see this Frank-and-Molly thing on a day-to-day basis, but part of me doesn’t believe it’s really real.

Only, at a time like this, it is.

It’s right in front of your eyes, and then you not only know it’s real in that moment, you know it was all along.

The kind of thing that can ruin your whole day if you let it.

But after a while, I managed to focus off that and actually sort of enjoy watching them. Because they were good. Really good.

I mean, Frank spun Molly around and they dipped and they came together and came apart like they’d been doing it for years. I guess they’d been doing it for years.

“Can I take some pictures of you guys dancing? I think it would look cool.”

Molly stopped dancing, and it was funny, because it took Frank just a moment to notice. He just sort of went on dancing a few steps without her.

“I didn’t know you were into photography,” she said.

“Well, I’m not. I mean, I am. But I haven’t been for long. I’m not into it like you’re into it. I’m just getting started.”

“Film or digital?”

“Film. I had to really insist on a film camera. The guy at the store kept trying to sell me on digital. Almost everything they had was digital.”

I didn’t say why it was so important to me to go with film. I don’t think I had to. It was this sort of difficult, embarrassing truth that was right there for everybody to see: the fact that my interest in photography probably had its roots in admiring Molly just a little bit. Whether I wanted to admire her or not. Whether I wanted to admit it or not.

I hurried up and talked over all that again.

“But I know how to use the camera I bought. I didn’t just buy it and put it in the corner. I’ve been teaching myself how to use it.”

“You should have told me. You could have asked for help. I would have helped you if I’d known.”

“I was going to ask for help. I think. I mean, sometime I would have. You know. Sooner or later.”

“You want to run get your camera?” she asked.

“Yeah, but …”

I wanted to ask something but it seemed a little gutsy. Like giving orders. Like running the show all of a sudden. But it felt like I really knew what I wanted and needed right then, so in a rare moment of pseudo-confidence, I just pushed through and said it. And it got said:

“But come over to my apartment. I want to put up some kind of backdrop, so it looks like a studio shot. And you guys need to dress up more, so it looks real formal and all. And, Frank, you need a shave.”

See? I could open my mouth and just say things. And also, another moment to note that the “Us” guys were totally full of shit. Frank needed a shave.

I moved almost all the furniture out of my living room and tacked two ironed sheets to the far wall.

It was quite a production.

When Frank and Molly came over, Molly was wearing a black dress, like an evening dress, with a full skirt, and Frank was wearing a gray suit and a blue tie. I’d never seen them so dressed up before.

Frank looked so nice in a suit. Too nice, really.

Molly helped me with the lighting. She said I needed a lot of light because they would be a moving subject. So I’d need a fast shutter speed. And I had to decide between tripod and handheld. Tripod, they’d dance in and out of the frame. Handheld, I might have trouble with my composition. I told her I might try a few of each.

Then we realized we didn’t have any music. They danced anyway. Molly just hummed a tune, and they danced, and I used up a whole twenty-four-exposure roll of film, and then reloaded and shot some more.

Molly gave me a tip on a good developing lab. But she promised that later on, when I was a little deeper into my learning curve, she’d help me develop a roll. Show me some of the tricks you can do when you develop your own.

When I got the pictures back, I found out I’d made a lot of mistakes. A lot of them. Photo after photo, they were half dancing out of the shot. My focus was bad a lot of the time. But I took almost fifty photos. So maybe by the law of averages, about five of them were really good.

I laid them out on my kitchen table.

Frank and Molly looked like they’d danced right off the screen of an old movie. I was so proud. I thought, I did that. Not just pointed the camera. I saw something I knew would make good photos, and I staged a photo shoot, and I got what I wanted. I saw now, on my kitchen table, what I’d seen in my head when I asked permission to shoot them.

In the best one, Molly’s skirt was just a little bit blurred by the way it was spinning. Just enough that you could really feel the
frozen action of the shot. And the looks on their faces were caught just right. You could see them loving dancing and loving each other. The expressions just said it all.

It was so nice to look at. I was even able to stand outside the fact that it was Molly and Frank and enjoy the look of love on their faces. Love always looks nice. I don’t really know anyone who doesn’t enjoy it when they see it. Anyone who doesn’t, I don’t really want to know them.

It was only five photos, and they were good almost by accident. But next time it wouldn’t be an accident. Next time I would know a lot more.

I heard a knock at my door. I thought it was either Frank or Molly. I ran to the door because I was so happy to show them my pictures.

I threw the door open wide.

It was my mother. I think she could tell I was disappointed.

“What are you doing here?”

She looked hurt. “I came to visit you.”

“I thought you were going to call first.”

“I knocked. I thought you just wanted me to knock.”

“Next time call first. Please?”

She sighed and swept dramatically over to my table and started looking at the photos. I really hadn’t invited her to look at them. They felt a little private, in a weird way. Not that there was anything wrong with them. But there were lots of parts of my life that I wasn’t anxious to share with my mother. Plus, I was really itching to go over and show them to Molly and Frank. So the whole thing was making me feel a little grumpy.

“What are these?”

“What do they look like?”

“Well, they’re photos, of course, but who took them?”

“I took them.”

“Using what for a camera?”

“Using my camera for a camera.”

She leveled me with a disapproving look. “If you’re receiving expensive gifts from someone, I should know.”

“
You
bought me the camera.”

“When did I do that?”

“For my birthday.”

She just stood quietly a minute, and I felt like I could see wheels turning in her brain. “Oh,” she said, as if someone had just defaced a Michelangelo, “all those beautiful clothes.” Long, semitragic pause. “I didn’t even know you were interested in photography.”

“Probably because you don’t know me anymore at all. Which is probably because we don’t live together.”

“You’re being unnecessarily cruel today, Ellen. Who are these people?” She pointed to the photos.

“My next-door neighbors.”

“Ah, yes. That nice little man. So you’re getting friendly with them?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. I suppose. I just thought you’d make friends your own age.”

“I have friends my own age.”

I purposely neglected to mention that I was barely speaking to any of them.

I felt another one of those moments coming on. Where I knew exactly what I wanted and needed. But it was hard to say.

But I was about to say it anyway. Against all odds.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I sort of have something planned. I’ve been learning about photography from Molly next door. And the next thing I was going to do is go over there and show her these pictures. Which is why I would really appreciate it if you’d please call first. Next time. You know. In case I have plans.”

She stomped her foot suddenly on my hardwood floor.

It was unexpected. And kind of funny, actually. Like a three-year-old who can’t get her way by using words.

“Elle, I think you’re being very unpleasant to me.”

But I really hadn’t intended to be. I really hadn’t said any of that to hurt her. I just wanted to go on with my day.

“No unpleasantness intended,” I said. “But like it or not, I have a life now. I think maybe you thought you could have it both ways. You know, like, drop me here to live on my own and go off on a cruise with Donald first thing, and still have it be just like it was before. But it’s not like it was before. It’s not. In any way. And it never will be again. And I think you might just need to accept that.”

I walked to the door and opened it wide.

She stormed out without a word.

I felt like I’d won a major victory. I guess in some ways I had.

I sat at the kitchen table over at Frank and Molly’s, showing Molly my photos.

“These are good work,” she said. “Great work for a beginner.”

I could actually feel the words move down into my gut. Like a warm, tingly glow. They actually had an effect on my body.

I knew damn well that Molly didn’t throw compliments around lightly, or say anything she didn’t mean. Even though I hadn’t really known her that long. It was just one of those evident
things. It would be the first thing you would know about her, and the minute you knew it, you would be completely sure.

Frank was taking a nap on the couch, but it didn’t seem like we had to worry about being quiet. I guess he was tired from working and going to school. He looked different without his glasses. He had dark circles under his eyes. He looked kind of defenseless. Which looked sweet.

It made me feel almost like I really did love him. Which, between that and the compliment on my photography, well—it was a lot to feel all at once. It almost made me a little dizzy.

I tried to pay attention to Molly and not stare at Frank while he slept.

“I made a lot of mistakes,” I said. “These were the only good ones.”

“You’re supposed to make mistakes. You’re just starting out. Mistakes are a good thing. They mean you were brave enough to try something hard.”

I could feel one of their cats rub up against my legs. I picked the cat up, and held her in my arms and hugged her. It was Gracie. I loved Gracie. I loved them both.

“My cat still doesn’t let me touch him,” I said.

“Be patient.”

“I am. I guess. I mean, there’s nothing I can do about it. I still sometimes wonder why I picked him.”

“Maybe because you knew how badly he needed to be picked.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Or maybe he picked you.”

“Or maybe I really was just trying to get back at my mother. I was pretty mad at her that day.”

“Or maybe all of the above.”

“Yeah. Maybe all of the above.”

I watched Frank sleep some more, but Molly was kind of watching me watch him, and that made me uncomfortable.

“Will you show me some of your work?”

“Of course I will,” she said.

She brought out a huge, flat, leather-bound portfolio. I already wanted one just like it. Even though I knew it was way too soon for me to need something like that.

They were almost all photos of people. Mostly on the street. Homeless people, working-class people. Faces in a crowd.

They all looked like they were missing something really, really important. Like she was taking pictures of the holes in people’s lives.

Some looked hungry, or like they had no place they belonged. Or both. Others looked lonely. A lot of them looked lonely. Like, I guess there’s a lot more lonely going on in the world than I’d really ever stopped to think about.

Some looked angry. But then, even the ones who looked angry also looked lonely or scared. Usually anger seems to be a feeling that people have all by itself, with no other feelings around it. Or under it. But not in Molly’s pictures. In Molly’s pictures, people felt lots of different feelings, all at the same time.

And they say the camera doesn’t lie. So I knew life must really be the way it was in Molly’s pictures. Which means there was a whole other layer of life I didn’t even know about until I saw it in her portfolio.

That’s a lot for a person with a camera to be able to do.

One of them she won an award for. A national award. It was a picket line, everyone joined together arm in arm to keep the scabs from coming through, and the faces on both sides were
just so fierce. It was like Roman gladiators, except it was here, and now.