From What I Remember (27 page)

“Okay.” Dad is speaking softer now. “I think I’ve got it.”

“There’s more. That was just one list.”

“How many lists are there?”

“Fifteen.”

“I think you’re going to have to give me all the lists.”

“I can do that.”

“Bud, why did you leave the house without telling me? I was so worried about you.”

“Kylie’s not at school. Mom said she was staying late. But a man told me that she isn’t here.”

“Maybe she’s on her way home. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I threw all my
Star Wars
figures onto the street. They’re not okay.”

“We’ll get you new ones.”

“That would be good.”

Dad isn’t acting like Dad. He’s acting nicer.

“Jake, you can’t do that, you know? You can’t just leave the house by yourself. If you want to go somewhere, you need to tell me.”

“I went to find Kylie. If I’d found her I wouldn’t have been by myself.”

“You could have gotten lost. You could have gotten hurt. I was so scared something happened to you, Jake.”

“I know how to take the bus. I know how to walk. I’m not stupid, you know?”

Dad just stares at me for a long time. I hate it when he does that. Usually he leaves the room after that. But where would he go now? Back to the car?

“You know what, buddy? You’re right. You did good. But next time, you’ve got to run it by me, okay? Just so I know where you’re going.”

Dad is smiling at me. He never smiles. His teeth are nice and white. His lips are very red. He should smile more. I smile back at Dad.

“Don’t tell Mom, okay?” I say.

“I already told her. I was worried so I called her. It was her idea to come to school and look for you. Don’t worry. She won’t be mad, I promise.”

“You were worried about me?”

“Of course I was, buddy. I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened. You didn’t think I’d be worried about you?”

“No. I didn’t think you cared.”

Dad looks sad. And surprised. I’m not sure why.

“Really, buddy? You didn’t think I cared?”

“No.”

“Well, I do. A lot.”

“Okay.”

“I guess I need to do a better job of showing you.”

“Yes. You could do a better job.”

Dad laughs. And he hugs me again.

“You never leave the house like that, Jake, without telling anyone, okay?”

It’s hard to answer with Dad still hugging me. I pull away. It was a twenty-seven second hug. That’s really long.

“I never need to. Kylie always comes home.”

“I know, buddy. I know. But we’re going to have to learn to live without her sometimes.”

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s gonna be hard. But you can do it. We can do it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know how you feel.”

“No. You don’t.”

“You’re right. I don’t know exactly how you feel. But I think I can come close. I know what it’s like to miss a sibling. My brother died. I miss him a lot.”

Dad’s brother died? I didn’t even know he had a brother.

“When did he die?”

“A long time ago, Jake. A long time ago. But I still miss him. A lot.”

I don’t know why Dad says it twice, but he looks really sad when he says it. Like he might cry. I don’t want Dad to cry. I don’t like it when people cry. That’s one more thing I don’t like. I’ll have to put that on the list.

“Can we go get pizza. Extra cheese, olives, pepperoni?” I ask. I know Dad likes pizza. And so do I. Maybe it’ll make us both feel better.

“Sure. I know you like Diet Dr Pepper, right? We’ll get you a big one of those too.”

Dad and I walk around the school and down the stairs.

“You parked on the sidewalk,” I tell him.

“Yeah, I know. I guess I was in a rush.”

“You’re not supposed to do that.”

“I know. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dad and I get in the car. As we bump off the sidewalk and onto the street, I hear a big crunch. I think that was my Poggle the Lesser. I can see his foot sticking out as we drive away.

hey’re not nearly as good as yours,” Kylie says, staring at the pictures she’s just taken with my phone. “You’re talented, Langston, what can I say?”

I’m gathering Kylie thinks that all it takes to capture an image is to point and shoot. That’s what everyone thinks. But there’s a lot more to it. It’s taken me years to frame things correctly. People assume you can’t take good pictures on an iPhone, but they’re wrong. Some of my best shots are on the phone.

They’re raw and simple, and most of the time no one knows you’re taking a picture. It’s much better than the thousand-dollar Nikon my dad got me for Christmas. I don’t think I’ve used it in months.

“It must be shocking to discover I’m good at something.”

“It is. And I mean that in the best possible way.”

Kylie’s been taking pictures of everything as we head back into town. Manuel encouraged us to check out the celebrations for St. John the Baptist. He thought we’d probably find Will and Juan somewhere here.

Kylie hands me the phone. “Here, check it out. Revel in my suckiness.”

I scan the pictures. She’s not going to win any awards. Lights strung up on palm trees, a little overexposed; two kids running down the street, pretty blurry; the harbor at night, kind of obvious. But she’s trying and I dig that.

I was bummed that we were leaving when Will showed up. Kylie and I were really vibing, and Ensenada is way cool. It seemed like a drag to go back to La Jolla. But that was when I knew we had a ride. Now that Will has totally bailed on us, I’m getting kind of worried that we’re never going to make it back in time for graduation. It was pretty stupid to depend on Will Bixby.

“I don’t understand what you do that’s so different from what I’m doing.” Kylie is all focus as she stares into the lens. She’s so passionate about every little thing. How does she do that? It’s both exhausting and impressive. Who cares if she can’t take a good picture? But the girl is determined to master it. “I see something cool, I point the camera, click, and then…it sucks. You can barely make out the image.”

“I like your pictures.”

“Don’t lie to me. They’re awful.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I do. Because I like to be good at things. I want to make movies. I want to be able to see things visually. A story. A moment. A place. It’s an important skill and I’m terrible at it.”

“And you can’t stand my being better than you at something?”

“It’s so not a contest. I just want you to teach me what you know. Impart your sage iPhone camera wisdom.”

This girl makes me laugh. And think. She’s way cool. And nothing like Lily. Lily…I haven’t thought about Lily in hours.

“You know about story. I know about visuals. It’s not the same thing.”

“I should know both.”

“I don’t. I couldn’t write a good story with a gun to my head.”

“I want to understand how you frame a shot. C’mon, tell me your secret.”

“It’s hard to explain. It’s like, I know it when I see it. It’s about learning what works. I didn’t know what I was doing at first, but I read about Stieglitz, Ansel Adams, Diane Arbus, Helmut Newton. I saw how they used light, composed their shots.”

“And I thought you were just a pretty face.”

“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises too. I also watch a lot of old movies. They’re like moving photographs.”

“That’s how you know about
The French Connection
?”

“I caught that on TV. But more like Fellini, Luchino Visconti, Godard. I see them at the Ken Cinema on Adams. Sometimes I go after squash games to just chill and watch the pictures go by. Pretty amazing stuff.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were into movies? You know I’m a movie freak.”

“I just met you, Kylie, remember?”

“I guess that’s true,” Kylie says. She’s swinging her arms as she walks down the street, like a little kid. She looks so adorable, I want to take her in my arms, but that would be very weird. We know each other a lot better than we did this morning, but still…

“I’ve never seen anything by Visconti or Fellini. Kind of embarrassing, huh? I’m a connoisseur of the brain-dead action film and anything made after 1985,” Kylie adds.

“David Fincher is a master.”

“I know. I worship
Fight Club
.”

“I’ve seen it three times.”

“Six!” Kylie says proudly.

“’Kay, that’s a little weird.”

“You ever seen
Pan’s Labyrinth
?”

“Guillermo del Toro. Genius.”

“I know, right? That’s what I keep telling Will. He won’t go see it. He says it’s responsible for the decline of Western civilization.”

“It’s pretty cool visually.”

“Totally groundbreaking.”

“You’ve got to see
The Leopard
. It’ll blow you away. It’s three and a half hours, but totally worth it.”

“I was kind of waiting for NYU. Figured I’d have to see all those old films in class. You ever seen
Blow-up
?” Kylie asks me.

“Sick. Just totally sick. And loved the sex scenes.”

“You would.”

It’s wild to talk old movies with someone. I don’t know anyone else who’s interested. Definitely not Lily. She had a shit fit and walked out of
The 400 Blows
. She said I was trying way too hard. The thing was, I wasn’t trying at all. I just thought she’d like it. That was the last time I ever took Lily to the Ken.

“Maybe we could go see something at the Ken this summer, you know, if we’re both around?”

“Yeah, sure, maybe,” Kylie says, hesitating. She doesn’t sound like she means it at all. I guess she’s thinking that after tonight, this is it. I get it, it makes sense. We run in completely different circles, no overlap at all. It kinda bums me out, though.

“Okay, over on the lawn.” Kylie points to a beach ball on the grass. “How would you photograph that?”

“For starters. I wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it doesn’t have any life to it. I don’t know. It’s dull, meaningless. When I take pictures, I’m looking for something I connect with, a feeling, a mood, a vibe. It’s like I’m having a conversation with what I’m photographing, or something like that.”

I stop, uncomfortable. Why am I talking like this? I sound like some kind of pompous idiot, going on about photography like I’m Cartier-Bresson or something.

“I’m sure that sounds totally pretentious,” I say, wanting to take it all back.

“It doesn’t at all. It’s very cool to hear you talk about it. How long have you been doing it?”

“I don’t know. A while. I got a digital camera for my tenth birthday. And then I started playing around on the Mac, developing pictures with a million different programs. It’s really the only thing I do, other than squash.”

As we approach the harbor, I can hear music and the sounds of people partying. Lights are strung up everywhere. It looks like Christmas. Man, they know how to live it up in Mexico. I need to come south more often. The streets are covered with ribbons and giant paper banners. Colored lights have been strung up across the storefronts, and confetti floats in the air. A crowd of little girls in hot pink dresses comes toward us. They all have their hair pulled back, and flowers tucked behind their ears.