Ghost Time

unable to take my eyes off it. But even then I knew we’d never be even, no matter how many pictures I took. Really, how many times does someone give you their hand; catch your fall twice in one day? You ready to head home? he asked, bending his knees, leaningforward like he was ready to stand. For the first time, I spoke my mind, I told him the whole truth: No, I said, not yet, and then I took a picture with his camera.
    When I look at that picture… when I look at his face in the light, I feel Cam’s hand that day, reaching for me, catching me. I feel the blood in my cheeks, seeing him hand me a camera he made for me. I feel him seeing me blush, bright red, and knowing exactly why, how uncomfortable I was to be seen, even though there was nowhere else in the world I wanted to be. I feel my heart, despite myself. But most of all, I feel time stop for the first time in my life. Some people don’t believe photography is art. Then again, some people don’t believe in magic, either. How tragic.

THURSDAY, JUNE 9, 2011
    (TEN WEEKS LATER)
    11:47 AM
    I was dreaming. I was having one of those dreams where I knew I was dreaming, but I didn’t want to stop, and I was with Cam, and we were laughing, and we were in a field, somewhere warm, and everything was blooming and sunshine…. Then my mom knocked on my door. She was in a mood, I could tell, because she said, Thea, get dressed and come into the living room, and I rolled over, planning to ignore her, when she goes: Now . So I put on some sweats and washed my face, and I could feel people in the living room, with her, but it was quiet. Then, when I walked in, I almost shrieked: it was Foley. Sitting in our living room. The lawyers were there, too.
    When I saw him, in our house, on our couch, it was like: Bam! Like I’d run into a brick wall. What do you want? I said, and Foley goes, Hello, Theadora. Please sit down, he said, returning his attention to the computer, resting on our coffee table, infront of him. Just received this one about an hour ago, Theadora, and I wanted your mother and counsel to see. Then Foley played another video of us, but not a sex video—just us. It was grainy, handheld, Super 8. It was right before sunset, and I was standing in the middle of this huge field of purple flowers, it was like purple shag carpeting, so thick, though, it was up to my ankles. And I was just jumping around, dancing around, rolling around in the flowers, being a complete idiot, and it’s exactly like I imagined it would be, purple clover, wall-to-horizon, smelling like lavender, only sweeter. Lying on my back, I looked up, at the sky, and the sky’s gray, silver gray, like when the sky’s charging, that whole scene looked just like I saw it when Cam described it to me. And then it began raining, pouring down, but so warm, I sat up, and my shirt was getting soaked, and I was just screeching, kneeling, trying to stand in a thunderstorm in the middle of Death Valley. It was 100 percent girl, it was hopelessly sweet and adoring, and there was only person who could have shot that video of me, seen that part of me, and that’s Cam, and I started shaking my head again.
    Even my mom balked, looking at that freaky computer screen of Foley’s, trying to figure out how or when I could have been in Death Valley with Cam; how could that be possible? Foley turned to me and said, When were you in Death Valley, Theadora? I said, I’ve never been to Death Valley. And he said, But that certainly does look like you, and the boy filming it does sound like John Cameron, and the girl who looks like you answers to the name Thea. I said, Foley, how could it be us if we’ve never been there before? Foley clapped his hands together: Bingo, Theadora!Bingo! he said, more animated than I’ve ever seen him. I wanted to puke, it was so gross the way he said that, bingo, I actually felt slimed. That is precisely what I was thinking, Theadora. How could it be you if you’ve never been there before? Perhaps in another life or another dimension, I said, and completely uncharacteristically, Foley perked up, all excited. Really, what was most upsetting was watching Foley beam at me, welling up, hearing my comment. He was telling me something in his own sick way, letting me hover over some psychic landmine, and he was savoring this moment for all it was worth.
    This is what you came for? To show me this? I asked, cocking my chin at his scary black computer. Still seated, Foley practically