La Optimista Vienó De Nuevo

I look for things that matter more and I’ve only ever been crossed with something truly beautiful and original a couple times. Today would not be that day I thought. I tossed my hair up, stuck a pen behind my ear and proceeded with my normal procession. The pace picked up and colors around me moved about faster. This fast monotony was overwhelming and I felt dizzy. Then a woman entered and brought a sense of destruction with her. It was not in her boldness for she was far from it. It was not in her rage for I don’t think she’s aware of such an emotion. It was simply with this weight she carried with her that made her so curious to me. She was a fragile thing that almost looked lost. Her presence seemed to turn everything into slow motion but I think I was the only one that noticed. She held her arms tight around her chest and squirmed through a crowd of people muttering,

“Con permiso.” She tucked her dark fallen hair behind her ear. It was thick and braided routinely it seemed. She wore a sweater she could swim in and jeans that were not frayed by their manufacturer. She kind of sighed a sigh of relief when she reached my counter. Atop it she flung the bag from her back filled with rolls of film. She lined them up in a row in front of me and said,

“May I have develop please?” I saw her and felt I could truly understand her in such a short moment. I felt that seeing her in that moment was important but I don’t know why. I was being judge-mental for a lack of better words and made her story in my head. I don’t know why, though. I don’t do that for every person I meet. She was this same person asking me to do the same something that every someone always asks for, but I had my idea of her.

I believed her to be someone who lives in a rural kind of way. She seemed like that sad homely and lonely type. I wondered this of her and wanted so much more for her. Indeed a curious person to me, but I remember not wondering what she thought of me.

“Doubles too please.” It was a shaky sort of accent escaping her lips. I helped her file her request and she bid me “adios”. As soon as she’d gone , I took the rolls of film and quickly broke into them. I thought why this envisioned person of mine would take so many pictures. I felt an obligation to see what she was hiding. For some reason this idea of her lingered and it became a game and a mystery. There’s something more to her. I need there to be.

I broke the plastic casings and rolled the film into the processing machine. It doesn’t take very long for negatives to process but I felt it took a lot longer than it should. I was being impatient. The negatives were spit out, I wiped them down, and now could see what was inside. I fed them through the printing machine in which there is a preview window for editing colors. It would be in here that I satisfy my curiosity.

I remember a bare house. You know, the kinds of pictures you’d take when you just bought a house. Before you put anything in your house you have those pictures that show what it looked like before all your things got put in. Then I remember pictures of Yosemite Park. I knew it was Yosemite because she had that picture of the billboard that “welcomes you…” to that place you’re at. I’d never been there before and it looked very pretty. I contrasted the colors in the sky for her. I wanted the pictures to come out nice. Then I found as I developed further pictures from Disneyland. I knew it was Disneyland because she took that kind of picture everyone does in front of the flowery garden display of Mickey Mouse’s face. She was with a big group of people. I think maybe it was her family and they were all smiling. I started to feel a little jealous. I haven’t been to Disneyland in forever.

Her pictures I began to print. They stacked high upon each other and I packed the first roll into its envelope. I still had quite a few more to develop. I hated reloading the damn printing machine with paper because it always confused me. I started to resent her because she was taking my time. Her next roll only pushed me even further into this feeling. It was beautiful.

There was a lake with a sunny sky above causing a shiny kind of glimmer on the water. It was hard to edit these photos but I tried for her because I didn’t want what she captured to be bleached out. There were several pictures of the lake, picnic tables completely smothered with picnic food, and little children running around like orange blurs because of the big fat floaties they wore on their arms.

Even more and more, I saw her pictures and I saw her life. I’d been developing pictures for over a year and I don’t recall anyone else having this kind of an affect on me. Why was she bothering me so much? I wondered why I cared and carried on with these feelings of unease. I really did almost hate her. I cut her negatives and placed them in their little baggies and packed them away for her. With each snip, I envisioned cutting her stupid hair off.

So many rolls of film had passed as well as the hours of my shift. I was tired and despondent. I didn’t want to do this anymore. It becomes a pretty ridiculous feeling watching the life of someone else through a tiny peephole for the matter of editing. Because of it I was wondering what I’ve done with my life and if the way I looked through pictures make people think of me in in the same way I thought of her. I wondered if people looked at me at all. This thought made me feel invisible. It’s a scary thought to be or do something you believe and go on in that way because it is deceiving.

It was lunch time and I ate a sandwich with tomato and turkey in it. It was quiet in the break room. There were old magazines with old celebrities with water stains on their faces. I felt weary. I just wanted to go home. I had no real reason to want that so much, though. There wasn’t much going on because I finished my homework, cleaned my room, and knew there was nothing on the television that night. Lunch was over and I went back to my project. I trudged back to my station and saw that I only had a couple rolls left to develop.

I would finish within the next hour. Here I went back into the peephole to see what she’d snapped that was so much more interesting than what I might have. And yes, it was. I saw pictures of an art museum, a simple day at an apartment complex pool, funny faces at the grocery store, and ostriches from the farm that’s out in the desert.

Then I came upon the last roll of film. It felt like it was the end of a movie, but not in a good way. I had that feeling of using my ticket stub as a gateway to the rest of the world. I love the feeling but hate it just as much because it makes me feel kind of phony. I just want to be and do so much like her, but it feels impossible. I decided I didn’t hate her after all and I felt like I needed to apologize to her, but I didn’t.

The simple fact that my preconceived notion of her was completely shattered in but a few moments made me respect her. I longed for that humility and understanding of things. Once the last roll of film had loaded, I noticed it had the same kind of photo in all its frames. All twenty-four exposures were of a new born baby girl. The woman I’d met before was cradling this child in her arms. Of all the photos before, she looked most like herself in these ones. There was one photo where her hair was messy and her face was shiny from sweat, but the child was in her arms and a smile was on her face that made her look so radiant.

It was at this moment I felt transcendent. How grounded can you be? There’s so much left to do and say in this world and I felt so happy for her. Her cup of life was filled to the brim and overflowing…I packed away the last few pictures and put all her rolls neatly together. My shift ended shortly after and I never saw her come pick them up. I still wonder what she must be living like now. I sometimes feel like when I see a quiet soul pass me by, it’s her. It never is though because I can’t remember what she looks like. It’s funny how forgetful I am.