Chapter 7
“It’s like riding a bike,” Elijah said, laughing from the front of the classroom as all the students tried to load practice film onto the stainless steel reels that had been passed out with developer tanks. He walked around the room, stopping to help with technique, eventually walking back to his desk at the front. I hadn’t hand developed film in years but at least when I had, I had developed hundreds of rolls. In the well-lit classroom, I didn’t find it too difficult, but I knew that once it was the real thing, when I had to thread my film into the reel in complete darkness, I might feel differently.
“I know that plastic reels can feed a little easier but the steel reels really last, and they do become easier with practice, I assure you.” He hopped up onto the desk, and I couldn’t help but enjoy seeing him in a tie again.
I looked away and, pulling my practice film free, closed my eyes. I failed at my first and second attempt at threading the film without looking, the film ceasing to move freely, a sure sign that it had been misfed. If that happened during the real thing, the developing chemicals wouldn’t be able to develop any parts where the film wrapped and touched other parts of itself and those parts of the negatives would be lost. The photograph ruined.
Keeping my eyes shut, I pulled the practice film free, unable to fight an answering laugh when I heard someone let out an expletive from somewhere to my right, and attempted to load it again. I found it difficult to concentrate with the buzz of the other students, so I focused hard, trying to block out everything around me. Calling on muscle memory from years ago, worrying a lip between my teeth as I had done hundreds of times before, working to not over-think my movement or move faster than my rusty skills would allow me to control the film. This time it loaded without so much as a snag, and I couldn’t stop my smile.
It was then that I became aware of the feeling of being watched, like an electric current running up my spine and wasn’t surprised to find Elijah looking at me when I opened my eyes. He sat cross-legged on his desk, elbows resting on his knees, the thumb of one hand stroking his lip, seeming deep in thought. I wasn’t sure at first if he was seeing me or seeing through me. When he smiled and looked away, I wasn’t sure what to think at all.
The classroom had one film-developing darkroom we had toured our first night. It was a small room, roughly six by seven feet, and had a counter that ran the length of one wall, a sink at each end. You entered the room through a metal revolving door that allowed no light to enter, so once you were inside and the lights were switched off, it was just dark. Not the kind of dark where your pupils eventually adjusted but true blackness. The room was small enough that Elijah had to take the students in small groups of two or three, walking each group completely through the process from loading the film into the developing tanks to the moment they hung the film into one of the negative dryers that lined the wall opposite the counter.
I worked in the printmaking darkroom waiting until I was called, with two others, to develop the film we were asked to shoot the week before. Even with other students in the room with me, once the lights had been turned out, I became acutely aware of him in the darkness.
He verbally walked us through using the opener to pop off the end of our roll of film, using the scissors to cut off the film’s lead and after it was loaded onto the reel, cutting it from the film canister spool. I loved the warm timber of his voice, more so now that I had spent time with the man, and by the time he flipped the lights on so we could start developing, I was certain I was flushed.
I had completely forgotten about the importance of temperature and the need for thermometers, and it was enough to bring my focus back to what I was doing. And I tried not to worry the entire time that I would ruin the roll of film I had shot over the last few days.
Besides the images of Evan the day when we had gone to lunch, I had shot photos of Robert and Evan together at the diner Saturday morning, of Nicholas while shopping that same afternoon and even shots of my own quiet street early Sunday morning before restlessness had sent me for a run.
The shots of Robert and Evan had been my favorites. As much as they contrasted one another, they also fit together perfectly.
My developing group was the last for the night, and after we had hung our string of negatives in the dryer and left the room, individually taking the revolving door into the main classroom, I noticed it was late enough that students were starting to gather their stuff. I was sad to see the night end.
I went to my enlarger to pack up my things with no real desire to go home to my lonely apartment. I hoped that I might find a moment to catch Elijah alone so that I could ask him to have coffee with me again, but when I emerged into the classroom, he was not there, so instead I managed to catch up with Elizabeth and we walked out together. She showed me a photograph of her husband she had printed that evening, a handsome man with a mane of dark hair and a gap-toothed smile. He was quite handsome, and they made a cute couple.
As I opened the door to her car, I shot a look back at the Center doors.
“You should ask him out,” she said. She said it in a way that told me she really wasn’t trying to push, and that somehow made it easier to confess my fears.
“I really like him.” I stopped, debating, finally giving in. “But he was married once, and his husband passed away.”
She looked surprised.
“I’ve known about it since before I met him. Evan told me, that friend we have in common.” I looked back at the doors again. “I don’t even know how long ago it was.”
She slipped behind the wheel, rolling down her window as I shut the door. Reaching out she grabbed my hand through the window. “Maybe the timing sucks, maybe it doesn’t. You’ve got nothing to lose, Jacob.” She was so earnest, I couldn’t help but smile. I leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek, and I bid her a goodnight, watching as she drove out of the lot.
I loaded my things into my Jeep, hesitating a moment before looking around and spotting Elijah’s car still parked at the far end of the lot. Taking a deep breath, I headed back into the Arts Center and to the classroom, focusing on slowing my breathing in an attempt to bring down my heart rate. I couldn’t remember ever being so nervous. While I hadn’t expected the classroom to necessarily be empty, I was disappointed to find Elijah sitting up on his desk at the front of the room, his back to me, the man from that night in the studio leaning in close.
“Come on Elijah, why won’t you go out with me? Hell, say the word and twenty-four hours could have the two of us in our own private bungalow, the beach just a few steps away.” His voice was almost a purr. “I’m sure you could use the getaway as much as I could.”
Even as guilt assaulted me, I stepped back into the shadows of the darkened hall but didn’t leave.
I watched as Elijah folded his arms, shaking his head. “Gabe, how many times do I have to say this?”
“I know, I know,” he cut Elijah off, standing up straight again and taking a step away. He looked like a man who was used to getting his way. “So,” he seemed to be searching for something to say, “I’ve never really gotten why these sorts of community things are so important to you,” he said indicating the room around him.
“And that’s just one of the problems,” Elijah said with a laugh.
“God, you are so beautiful.” The man stepped closer again, and I watched as he lifted up the silk of Elijah’s tie, letting it slip from his fingers.
Elijah stiffened, and before I could stop myself I stepped into the room, a bright smile plastered to my face.
“Oh, sorry, Elijah, didn’t know there was anyone here with you. Hope I’m not interrupting.” Even as I said the words, I didn’t stop my progress toward the two men.
The flash of relief that crossed his face was obvious. Elizabeth had been right, Elijah did not like this person.
“Not at all,” Elijah said. “Jacob, this is Gabriel Marks. He used to work with my David.”
I walked forward, reaching out to shake han
ds when what I really wanted to do was ask him to leave.
“Anyway,” Elijah stood, forcing the man to step further away, “I hate to run you off, but Jacob and I have plans.”
“Oh?” Gabe squinted at me, looking me up and down as if assessing me as a possible threat. His smirk told me he didn’t find my old Converse and tight black tee much of one.
“So, where are you two heading?” Gabe asked, continuing to watch me.
Elijah flashed me an almost panicked look, as if saying that the two of us having plans was the only thing he had in his lying repertoire. I, on the other hand, was under no such disadvantage.
“We’re going to the movies to watch the 1974 Sugar Hill.” The man just looked at me. “You know, Marki Bey? Zombie revenge? Twizzlers?”
“I’m not familiar,” he said, looking less than impressed.
“Really?” I shook my head. “They’re like a braided licorice candy. I think they’ve been around since the eighteen hundreds or something.” I smiled at the man, a patronizing smile like I thought he might have been a little slow, and he narrowed his eyes.
“I know what Twizzlers are.” He sounded irritated.
I feigned relief, managing to keep a straight face, even as I saw Elijah struggle to keep from laughing.
Admittedly, it was an old joke, and I was being a bit of a dick, but how often does a person get such a perfect set up? Really?
Elijah managed to school his features before Gabe looked in his direction.
“I like the cherry ones,” he offered, trying to sound natural. It needed some work.
When Gabe finally bid us both a good evening, touching Elijah’s shoulder lightly before heading out of the room, and the sound of his footsteps had faded down the hallway, I turned to face Elijah.
“You are quite possibly the worst liar ever.” I couldn’t hold in my snort of laughter.
“And you are a little too good,” Elijah said, covering his face in embarrassment but unable to hold back his own answering laugh. “Oh my God, Jacob. I am so sorry to put you in that position. I don’t know how, but I’ll make it up to you.”
“First of all, I grew up gay in rural Ohio. It was a matter of survival to lie well, but I certainly don’t make it a habit. Secondly, I already know how you’re going to make it up to me,” I told him. “Do you have to be anywhere early tomorrow?” Elijah shook his head. “Then hurry up and grab your stuff, we have a movie to catch.”
After some debate, Elijah lost his tie in the passenger seat of his car and, leaving it in the parking lot, I drove us both down to a small cinema on Indianola. Being that it was a Monday night during summer break, the odd little theater, located in an older neighborhood just northeast of the OSU campus, was nearly empty, and we were able to claim seats without a problem, even as the movie was already starting.
We shared popcorn and Sno Caps, it having turned out that neither one of us cared much for Twizzlers, in actuality, and we chatted quietly throughout the movie, me amazed he had never seen it before, Elijah amazed that I had seen it so many times. We both agreed that Diana “Sugar” Hill looked fantastic poured into that sweet, white jumpsuit.
When we emerged back out onto the sidewalk, it was nearly midnight. The breeze blew cool as we made our way slowly down the tree-lined street, and I fought the desire to reach out and take his hand. I wondered what would happen if I gave in, just reached out to twine our fingers together.
I stole a glance his direction and saw him deep in thought, his hands shoved into his pockets. I shoved my hands deep into my own and cleared my throat.
“Want to tell me about that guy?” He didn’t speak right away. “Or not.”
He looked confused for a moment. “Oh, yeah, Gabe.” Elijah waved a dismissive hand. “He worked at the same firm with David and has been after me to go out with him.” He sighed. “He doesn’t take no well, or at all really.”
“And you’re not ready to date again,” I said, and Elijah looked over at me for a long moment.
“I’m not sure.” He was quiet for another moment or two before he spoke again. “It’s partly that, I guess. But it’s more that…” He seemed to be searching for the right words.
“Gabriel Marks is a tool,” I supplied, and Elijah laughed hard.
“Yes. That about sums it up,” he said, smiling and looking up into the branches we were passing under.
After a moment, he turned to look at me again. “Thank you for asking me to go tonight.”
“Thank you for saying yes.” We both spoke quietly, the late hour seeming to require it.
When I dropped him at his car, we managed no more than a moment of awkwardness as we said our good-byes. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch him. To brush away the hair that fell into his eyes and to run my palm over the heavy stubble of his jaw, to press my lips to his. But his words from earlier helped me rein in my own desire. I understood not being ready to move on.
He held my gaze that extra beat that always started my heart racing before saying a quick good-bye and climbing down from the Jeep. I waited there until he was in his own car and had it started, only then pulling out of the lot, his headlights glowing in my rear view mirror.