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kodachrome
kodachrome
they give us those nice bright colors
they give us the greens of summers
makes you think all the world's a sunny day
- ‘kodachrome’ by Paul Simon
Focus. Click. Wind. Focus. Click. Wind.
The sound is a novelty, even to Nicole’s ears. Sure, her dad had a film camera, but it was an old Olympus PEN point and shoot. She knows nothing about single lens reflex or f-stops or shutter speeds . What she does know is that Belle was thrilled when she found that old Minolta X-700 camera at the pawn shop in town.
She had held it up like it was the holy grail with the biggest smile on her face and a sparkle to her forest green eyes. “I can’t believe they still have one of these,” Nicole commented as she turned the 35mm over in her hands. “This has to be even older than Wynonna.”
“Do you think it still works?” Belle asked excitedly. “Can we take it to that camera store in the city?”
Nicole hummed as if she had to think about it. “Let me text your mama and see if she can get away from work early.”
The two of them were already playing hooky; why couldn’t Waverly, too?
It was Friday the 13th and it was Belle’s tenth birthday and Nicole had taken the day off and called the school to excuse her daughter’s absence for the day.
Her daughter .
Her daughter of two years officially come August. She has a beautiful daughter and a beautiful fiancée. And this life of hers? This life of hers is pretty beautiful, too.
Waverly texted a picture from the BBD office and Nicole couldn’t stop the giggle snort that bubbled up without warning. She turned the phone toward Belle with a grin. Wynonna, Doc, Dolls, and Jeremy were all on their phones, oblivious to the fact that Waverly took a selfie with them in the background.
‘ They’re playing Cards Against Humanity, ’ her description read. ‘ I think I’m good to leave early. ’
So Nicole and Belle drove down Main Street to the municipal building and sat idle in the old pickup truck with the windows cracked, waiting for Waverly to wrap up whatever it was she had been doing. In the rearview mirror, Nicole could see the curious and happy expression on her daughter’s face. It felt like a lifetime ago that she drove a scared and withdrawn little girl to the station in the back of her cruiser. A lifetime ago that the same little girl made a home in her heart and never left. A lifetime ago that she knew — knew that this little girl was special and important and so desperately deserving of a home built from love and family.
She looked at her daughter and her heart felt so full.
“How about we get dinner in the city?” she suggested.
Belle bounced in her seat, nimble fingers still toying with the aperture ring on the lens. “Really? Can I pick where we go?”
“Where are we going?” The passenger door to the cab opened and Waverly hoisted herself inside.
“To the city to go to the camera store and then maybe a park so I can take pictures and then dinner somewhere and ice cream for dessert.” Belle rattled all of this off as if it was their planned agenda for the day from the start.
Nicole chuckled. “Slow down there, Ansel Adams.” She leaned over the console to greet her fiancée — her fiancée — with a kiss and a, “Hi, cutie.”
“Hi, sweetie pie,” Waverly had grinned before twisting in her seat to reach behind her, giving Belle’s knee a gentle squeeze. “Bonjour, ma belle.”
“Hi, mama.”
Waverly smiled before settling into her seat, pulling the seat belt taut across her body. It snapped into place with an audible click.
“So we’re going to the camera store and then a park and then dinner followed by ice cream?” she confirmed with a playful uptick of her mouth and a tilt of her head.
“Yep!” Belle sounded, popping the ‘p’ with a loud smack of her lips. “And look at what I found at the pawn shop today!” She passed the camera forward and even Waverly marvels at the analog technology.
“So cool, Belle.”
“So cool,” Nicole agreed as she shifted the truck into reverse and pulled out of the lot and onto the road to take them out of town.
Waverly returned the camera and then handed over her cell phone as well. “Why don’t you see if you can find somewhere you want to eat?”
Of course, Belle probably already had a place in mind. She’s quick on her feet and Nicole would swear that the child’s mind could run circles around most of her deputies. She’s as clever as Waverly, bookish and artistic in her own right. There had been talk with her teacher and the principal regarding the possibility of having her skip a year.
Nicole was proud. So proud.
She had glanced at the rearview mirror again, taking in the sight of her daughter once more. “She’s pretty cool, too,” she whispered to Waverly. And Waverly had nodded and reached across the console. Her hand found Nicole’s and she held on, all the way to Calgary.
They listened to Nicole’s 70’s and 80’s playlist and sang along to Madonna and Queen and the Ramones and Paul Simon. It took them a little over an hour to get to the big city, and Nicole took them straight to the camera store, which was quite literally called The Camera Store.
Nicole had wished that she had her phone camera at the ready to capture the emotions that played across Belle’s features when she realized just how much photography equipment there was. Her eyes bugged out and Waverly shared a knowing look with her fiancée, their fingers tangled together as they walked hand in hand behind their daughter.
Belle diligently followed the signs to the service counter. Every so often, though, she would pause to study this or that, momentarily distracted by something she had seen or read about in a book or on the internet. Waverly kept a mental tab of everything that caught the young girl’s eye.
The woman behind the counter leaned forward as she watched Belle approach, resting her arms on the cool glass case that housed used equipment and mementos of the past.
Belle showed more confidence now and far less hesitance with strangers than when she first came to live with them. Her fear of asking questions or making requests had become mostly a non-problem. It had taken time and a lot of reassurances and encouragement. And Belle still struggled sometimes. Not everything was perfect and it probably never would be.
They all had their scars, both physical and mental.
“What can I do for you?” the woman asked.
Belle set the camera on the counter and pushed it forward. “I got this at a pawn shop, and I’d like to know if it still works. Please.”
Nicole watched as the woman pulled at the small lever and a different knob and then poked at the shutter button. She pressed something on the side of the camera and gave the lens a twist and off it came in her hands. She fiddled with the body some more, popping open the back and checking the battery compartment on the bottom. And then she put it all back together again.
“You have quite the find here,” she finally said. “Everything seems to work, but you won’t know for sure until you put a roll of film in it and give it a shot.”
Waverly had snorted at the pun. Nicole swatted her arm and shook her head. “Do you offer photography lessons here?” she inquired, smiling when she saw Belle’s eyes light up.
The woman nods. “Sometimes,” she answered, and then she looked to Belle and said, “I have some time now, if you’d like me to show you some of the basics. You seem like you’re itching to get out and take some photos today.”
Belle turned her head toward Nicole in askance, and her mom — her mom — said, “I think we have time. Go ahead. We’ll pay for film and whatever else you need to show her how to use it.”
And then the woman — Lauren, she said when she introduced herself properly — ushered Belle behind the counter and sat her on the stool. They began talking film advance levers and ISO and built-in light meters.
“I’m gonna check out some of the books and things that Belle was looking at earlier,” Waverly whispered into Nicole’s ear. “If you don’t mind me wandering off?”
“As long as you come back to me,” Nicole had whispered back.
“Always,” left Waverly’s lips before she began meandering her way through the store. Nicole watched her with a tender smile and smiled wider when she turned her attention back to her daughter — her daughter — listening to Lauren’s explanations and instructions with rapt attention.
She stepped a little closer when she heard Lauren ask, “What is it that you like about photography?”
Nicole didn’t know and neither did Waverly. The month before, Belle had started bringing home books about photography and asking if she could get a film camera for her birthday. She dove head first into her new interest, researching what she could with a fervor that was so inherently Waverly . And Waverly was smart and artistic with dance and music, and it made sense that Belle might be, too, with the way the two had connected early on.
But neither of them knew what it was that had captured their daughter’s interest so completely. So Nicole shuffled forward another step and turned an ear toward the conversation.
Belle had bit her bottom lip, so much like the way that Waverly would when she carefully considered what she wanted to say. It took a moment for the words to come to her, and when she spoke, it was in a hushed tone that reminded Nicole of the early days with that little girl. The days where her heart broke because of a little girl who flinched when strangers addressed her, who was afraid of going hungry, who tried so hard to hide from the world and the monsters under her bed.
Nicole’s heart ached because Belle had mumbled, “I like that there’s a camera between me and the world. I can look but it’s not really me, and if people look at me, they can see the camera. It’s like a shield, you know? Like a… a… buffer. They don’t have to see me.”
They left the store with several extra rolls of film, two books on learning photography, a print of a photo by somebody named Paul Nicklen, and the happiest ten-year-old that Nicole had ever known.
The visit to the park had to be postponed as the evening had crept upon them far faster than they anticipated, but they did venture to the restaurant that Belle had chosen, much to her mama’s enthusiasm. Called the Coup, it was an Asian-inspired menu described as 'ethical vegetarian' and was apparently one of the most popular vegetarian restaurants in the city. And as requested, they followed dinner with ice cream at Made by Marcus just down the street.
“This was a good birthday,” Belle said on their way back to Purgatory. “The best, I think.”
“It was a pretty good one, wasn’t it?” Nicole agreed.
“And we still have dinner tomorrow night at the homestead. I think that there might even be some presents with your name on them.”
Belle grinned and looked down at the photography book open on her lap. “The best birthday ever.”
-
Focus, click, wind. Focus, click, wind.
She watches as her daughter takes pictures of anything and everything. The dandelions that refused to be removed from their yard. Mr. Harrison’s three-legged dog named Argos. Waverly making blueberry pancakes on a lazy Sunday morning. Alice rolling her eyes at something or another.
Her bedroom is filled with printed images of their family and their life. Photos of all of them.
(Nicole keeps a framed photo on her desk of her and Waverly that Belle had taken after they had fallen asleep against one another on the sofa at the homestead.)
But there are also things that Nicole would never have thought to capture on film or on any other medium for that matter. The shadows cast from the homestead’s fence in the late afternoon sun. ‘ Golden hour ,’ Belle had once explained to her. An empty stand of bleaches contrasted against a stark, snow-white ground. Or the dew that clings to the thin threads of a spider’s web in the woods. A train passing through a nearby town, a blur of light and movement. The textures and colors of that old stone well that Wynonna had climbed into in order to retrieve Peacemaker all those years ago.
Belle finds beauty in the quietest of moments and in the most unexpected of places. She creates art from the most mundane of sights, and it’s breathtaking . And it’s inspiring because Belle sees the world with fresh eyes, even after bearing witness to some of the worst of humanity.
Later in life, Nicole will remember the words that Belle uses to describe how she became interested in photography and in art. Words that she will share when they’re both a little tipsy and warm with alcohol, sitting on the porch swing beneath a starry night sky.
“It’s because of you,” Belle will say. “You see so much and you look after people because you can see what they’re afraid to share. You see them and you help them realize that they’ve been brave all along. I’ve watched you with Mama and Wynonna and Doc and Alice. I’ve seen you with Uncle Dolls and Jeremy.
“Mama has always been good at seeing the good in people. But you… you see the light and the darkness and everything in between. Everything that makes a person whole and human, even if they’re a little broken, too. You saw me , mom. I wanted to be able to see like that. See like you. Art just… it felt like the way for me to learn how to do that.”
The words will make Nicole cry when she hears them and again when she recalls them. Because she will remember what Belle had said so many years ago about what she liked about photography. About having the camera as a shield and the distance it allowed her from the world and the people in it. But this… the how and the why.
“It’s because of you, mom.”
Focus, click, wind.
Their lives are made up of snapshots. Bursts of color, sometimes vibrant and sometimes muted. Sometimes there’s no color at all and just the shades of gray between the black and white. There are moments to celebrate and moments to mourn, and while not everything is pleasant or perfect, they tell a story. So many stories.
Of a small town girl whose dreams and ambition lead her on a hero’s journey.
Of a stranger in a new town who grows with a family of her own making.
Of a little girl from a broken family who learns what it means to love and be loved. Who learns to find beauty in the world in spite of the tragedy she has experienced.
Focus, click, wind.