Mary McDonald - No good deed

“Ready to go?”

He stood. “Yeah.” In the space of time it had taken them to get ready, his air of playfulness had dissipated, and he skimmed a hand through his hair, leaving a few strands sticking straight up before they fell back into place.

Jessie noted that his nerves seemed to match hers. What was next for them? She saw that the camera was on the couch. She took a deep breath and pointed her chin towards it. “How about we take that along?”

His eyes widened. “I-I don’t think so.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Not yet.”

The next few weeks were the best of Mark’s life. Every minute he and Jessie weren’t working, they spent together. Mark didn’t have a phone at his apartment, so Jessie began stopping by the camera shop on her lunch and they would make plans for the evening. More often than not, they ended up either at his apartment or hers. His sofa-bed wasn’t very accommodating, and the floor lost its charm after the first few times. Before long, he was spending most nights at her place.

One evening, Jessie lay on the couch, watching television, and he sat down, lifting her feet onto his lap. “I was wondering…would you mind if I used the second bathroom as a darkroom once in awhile? It already has a vent to the outside, and I’d buy all the stuff, of course. I want to be prepared, in case…in case…”

“You thinking of using the camera again?”

He stroked a hand up her calf absently, and shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Sure. I guess so.”

Mark nodded. “Thanks.” He felt the weight of her gaze and pretended not to notice. Just because he wanted a place to develop the pictures didn’t necessarily mean he was going to actually use it again. A commercial blared, and he reached for the remote and began flipping through the channels, not really paying attention to any that he stopped on.

“Have you thought about giving up your apartment?”

Mark paused in his channel surfing, surprised at the question. “And move in here?”

“It doesn’t make sense for you to keep paying on that apartment and half the time, you’re not there. Plus, well, the darkroom will be here.” She turned towards the TV and pulled her feet off his lap.

He cursed his stupidity. Here she was offering her home to him and he’d acted like the thought had never occurred to him. He’d embarrassed her. “Jessie.”

She blinked but kept her eyes riveted on the program.

“Jess…could you look at me?” He reached for her feet again, giving a toe a playful tweak.

Her face impassive, she turned her face to him. “Yeah?”

“I’d be honored.”

“Done with that?” When Jessie nodded, Mark added her plate to the armful of dirty dishes, and carried them to the sink. The dark room was finished, and he’d returned his keys to Bud, who had acted sorry to see him go. Mark had promised to call to go out for a beer now and then and he meant it. He’d learned his lesson about losing touch with friends. As he rinsed the plates, he looked over his shoulder. “I got a couple of photography jobs.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” She beamed at him over the rim of her coffee cup.

He shrugged, but couldn’t quite smother the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “They don’t pay much, but it’s a start. Gary suggested me when a woman came into the shop and mentioned looking for a photographer for a small wedding. “

“It’s a great start. Soon, you’ll be back to how you were before.”

Mark wrung out the sponge, giving it a harder than needed twist. “Yeah. Maybe.” Bending his head, he scrubbed the baking sheet. When would every mention of the past stop hurting?

A minute or so later, Jessie’s hand reached into the sink and caught his. “Mark. Stop. You’re going to ruin the finish on that.”

He blinked. “Sorry. There was some chicken stuck to it.”

She took the sponge out of his hand. “I’m sorry I said anything about the past, but we can’t keep tiptoeing around it.”

“Who asked you to?” Mark snatched the sponge and began wiping the counters. He heard her sigh, but ignored it. “You can talk all you want about the past. Hell, I can talk about it if you want.”

“Right.”

He glanced up at her skeptical tone. She leaned against the counter, arms crossed and eyebrow quirked. He flung the sponge into the sink. “What do you want to know?”

“What were the other inmates like?”

“I have no idea. I never saw any others.”

Surprise showed on her face and she dropped the tough stance. “Ever?”

“Nope. It was just me and the guards.” He grabbed the roll of paper towels, tore off a few and turned to dry the counters. “They weren’t too chatty.” His attempt at humor died as the remembered loneliness swept over him. “I saw a doctor occasionally, and a few times, a chaplain came by. He was nice.” Ducking his head, he used his thumbnail to scrape a drop of barbecue sauce off the counter. “And Jim and Bill, of course. Saw them more than I wanted to.” Lost in memories, he stopped scraping and stared at the slate gray stone beneath his hand.

“Mark, you don’t have to say any more. I’m sorry.” She’d lost the skeptical note.

He snapped back to the present and shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.” Wadding up the paper towels, he sought a change of subject, throwing out the first thing he could think of. “Getting back to photography, I was thinking of using my camera again. Just a few times.”

Jessie stopped in the act of filling the soap dispenser in the dishwasher and straightened, box still poised. “Your special camera? Seriously?”

Mark nodded, not sure when he had made the decision to use the camera again, but the feeling had been building ever since he’d held it, and now that he’d said it out-loud, a surge of excitement shot through him. “Not every day. I have to work, but I have a few days off a week. If something comes up, maybe I can make a difference.”

Mark slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Jessie. Today was the day. He stretched and rolled his shoulder, wincing as it popped. The dream to match the picture was still fresh in his mind. He’d wondered if the dreams would still come, but now he had his answer.

“Are you going?” Jessie scooted up in bed, the t-shirt she wore, one of his, slipping off her shoulder

He was tempted to say he hadn’t dreamed any details and return to bed. After hiding the magic of the camera for two years, and then being punished for using it, his first instinct was to deny what he was planning on doing. But this was Jessie. She knew all his secrets.

“I figured I’d go. It couldn’t hurt to at least see if I can change it.” There. He’d committed.

She held his gaze until Mark had to shift his focus. They’d discussed it, and he knew she’d support him if he put the camera down forever, but he knew she wanted him to use it if he could.

He grabbed his clothes out of a drawer, setting them next to the camera. The thrill of using it yesterday still simmered inside of him, and he picked it up, shivering at the hum of energy that coursed up his arms. It felt odd, but pleasant, like a warm tickle in his muscles.

Jessie caught his eye in the mirror. “You want me to go with?”

Mark had thought about asking her to go with him. He’d love nothing more than to have her along to push him to use it, but he had to know if he could do it on his own so he shook his head. “No. I gotta do it myself.” He set the camera down and rummaged for his socks.

The bedsprings creaked followed by the soft slap of Jessie’s feet on the hardwood floor. She hugged him from behind and planted a kiss between his shoulder blades. “You’ll be fine, but if you need anything, I’ll be here.”