Ghost Time

give the girl her voice back through his photography, but it doesn’t work. Turns out, the Native Americans were right, that the camera does steal a piece of your soul, and he knows that myth, because he’s been to the West, and he’s taken pictures of different tribes; he’s been warned. But then he keeps taking her picture, trying to find her, reach her, trying to love her. But most of all, he’s trying to make her love him back. That was as much as I knew, but I started drawing the things I could think of. Like this scene in the hospital gardens, and then, later, this scene in a forest, where he takes her to photograph her.
    But that’s all I know so far, really. I mean, I think maybe he finds out the real reason she’s there, and maybe, whatever the truth is, it’s much better and much worse than he ever could’ve imagined. Maybe the girl starts speaking; she tells him her deep, dark secret, and it turns out she’s really not crazy at all, and he wants to help her escape or to run away with her. I don’t know, maybe he thinks she’ll love him, that she could love him, and finds out that she can’t; she’ll never love him, and that’s why he keeps taking her pictures, knowing he’s capturing her soul, frame by frame.
    I was thinking about calling the story “Ambrotype,” but I’m thinking I’ll just call it “Sepia,” because it’s easier. Still, I thought it could be a really beautiful period piece, but it could also be about modern photography and all the things we deal with today, becoming obsessed with people we don’t even know just because we have a picture of them on our desktop. I felt like itcould actually work, and so I kept writing everything that came to mind. I was just trying to finish a first draft to give to Cam for Valentine’s, right? So one night, I took a break and I went into the kitchen to get something to drink, and my mom looked up at me, smiling, sitting at the kitchen table, and she reached out to grab my arm, just like she used to, and I don’t know why, but I told her my idea.
    I took a glass out of the cupboard, and then she asked what I’d been up to, and I said, Hold on, I’ll show you, and ran to my room and got our sketchbook and took it back to the kitchen. Her car broke down and she had to put all our money into getting it fixed, and things had been so stressful, I just wanted it to be like it used to be, when I’d show her my drawings. I know it hurt her feelings that I share so much with Karen now, and not with her. And that’s partly because Karen studied art and film, you know, but I think I also share so much with Karen exactly because she’s not my mom. That’s the point, you know?
    Anyhow, I told her the whole idea, and Mom goes, That’s an amazing idea, Thee. How’s it start? Like this, I said, sitting down and opening to the first drawing, turning the sketchbook so she could see. I said, It looks like lapse photography of storm clouds, right, but it’s actually steam, you see? I think it should start, like the credits start with one of the patients, sitting in a chair, sitting still, staring at the audience. Someone attractive, not one of those crazy women without teeth who looks like she’s from Appalachia. Because back then, you’d have to sit still for five, ten minutes, even, for daguerreotypes. Like they had neck braces and all this equipment to keep people from moving, because itwas so expensive, and you’d have to sit perfectly still for such a long time.
    Mom shook her head and said, Braces? Yes, I said, these huge braces, I said clasping my hand behind my neck, so happy to see she was totally into the idea. And at one point, Mom, I was thinking of circling the camera around, showing the metal braces from behind the sitting models, so you’d feel how uncomfortable it was, having your picture taken, like the things people were willing to do, but anyhow. Credits don’t take ten minutes, but like a good three or four minutes of this person staring at you, while names appear in old-fashioned handwriting, and then, at the end of the credits, the model finally blinks, and then a flash goes off, and then there’s a cloud of smoke. And then, I don’t know, maybe cut to another cloud of smoke, when a train stops at the station, and the photographer gets off, carrying all his equipment, all these leather bags and old tripods. Cam will know how to make it work, I said. I guess it’s not really very developed yet, but we’ll see, I