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Haley watches the image emerge, the angles of the swingset cutting across the surface of the film in the red light. The bars are stark against the cliffside behind the playground. Haley supposes this could be some sort of statement on man against nature, or blissful childhood ignorance, or Stardew Valley’s shit city planning because really, who’s she fooling?
A rough growl escapes her. She has half a mind to toss the whole roll away, but she can see The Farmer’s face now. Brows upturned, lips arranged into that little frown, arms loose at their sides as if they're just waiting to hold Haley as she bawls. Oh, baby, why?
Haley hates that look. It always works.
For the Farmer, Haley remains patient. She hangs her photos up to dry and idly thinks to herself that this is all their fault. They were the one who showed up out of the blue, natural charm with a fresh face, and told Haley that her photos had promise. They were the one who drew Haley close in the dark room and pressed their lips to hers. They were the one who took one look at Haley’s photos, still wearing their sheen of moisture, and decided that this wasn’t enough for Haley. That Haley deserved more. It was exactly the sort of considerate, thoughtful, heartfelt thing Haley had come to expect from The Farmer down the way, and she should have known, really, that it would be the thing to destroy her.
The Farmer planned a surprise. They dragged Haley onto Pam’s bus one weekend. The night before, they told her to pack a bag and dress nice. When the city rose up over the horizon, Haley squealed so loudly the other passengers snorted awake from their naps just to glare. The Farmer had saved up for a weekend getaway, squirreling aside the small profits from their spring strawberry harvest just for her. They booked a room in a hotel that took Haley’s breath away. A silly expense, she thought, considering they barely left.
But the Farmer eventually coaxed her from their bed and promised something special. She followed them down the sidewalk and into the subway, the two of them giggling and pulling each other close as they held fast to the safety rail. When they climbed back to the surface, Haley’s surprise was waiting for her across the street.
A photo gallery, beautiful and daunting.
Haley was so dumbstruck she couldn't even find the words to speak. She felt the Farmer watching her from the side as she stepped forward, her eyes wide in awe. The actual visit, even now, was a dream. Haley’s wonder carried her throughout the rooms from photo to photo, each one a different facet of monochromatic perfection. She leaned towards the little plaques and found lofty words she’d encountered sparingly sewn casually throughout their descriptions. Brutalism. Pictorialism. Something called Dada.
While she struggled to make sense of this world, other women walked by in their sleek dresses that whispered above the tile. They sized Haley up with their sidelong glances, the corners of their mouths lifting as they moved onto the next frame.
A season has passed since their trip. The weight of her camera still doesn’t feel the same.
Today, when Haley leaves the dark room, she’s not surprised to find the Farmer waiting for her. Tonight, when Haley is flushed and catching her breath, they’ll ask after Haley’s photos. Trace the curves of her and ask what she’s proudest of so far. Haley will shake her head, as she has every other time they’ve asked. There’s nothing good, She’ll say. Nothing to see.
The Farmer has planned another surprise, and Haley isn’t in the mood. For a few weeks, she makes excuses. She’s too busy. She’s tired. She just has so much to do. The Farmer accepts this for a time, but as fall approaches, they become insistent. “Please, Haley. It’s just one day.”
Haley agrees, if only to quiet them, and that’s what brought her here, blindfolded and holding fast to the Farmer’s waist on the back of their horse, impatiently awaiting the moment that she’ll be able to hop off.
As they slow to a stop, Haley realizes that the air has shifted. That, wherever they’ve brought her, there’s a sweetness here. There’s a gentle touch at her waist. Low murmurs that guide her off the horse. She teeters slightly as her feet touch the ground, and despite her foul mood, she giggles as her Farmer situates her, turning her body to face one side, posing her as if she were a porcelain doll.
Finally, all is still. The Farmer takes their place behind her and leans forward, their breath warm against the shell of Haley’s ear. “Are you ready?”
What more can the girl do but smile and nod?
The blindfold falls away and when Haley opens her eyes, she sees a field of satin gold. Sunflowers, as far as the eye can see, reaching up towards the calm blue sky. Her breath hitches in her throat as she takes a tentative step forward. “It’s beautiful,” She says. She looks to the Farmer, feeling childlike as she asks, “Can I have one?”
The Farmer grins. They reach into a satchel at their side and pulls out Haley's camera. “You can have them all.”
Haley stares. When the tears finally escape her, the Farmer pulls Haley to their chest, encircling her in the warmth of their arms. As her sobs slow, she realizes with some satisfaction that she was right. This entire time, the Farmer was just waiting to hold her as she cried.
She sniffles as she accepts the camera. Looks to the field. It’s messy. Chaotic. Lines of petals and leaves and stems every which way and so many colors Haley wants to cry again just looking. It's nothing like the photos they viewed in the city that day. And for the first time since the trip, this realization makes Haley smile.
“Come,” She orders the Farmer. As expected, they don’t protest.
Haley directs their group deeper into the field. She lowers herself to the ground, apathetic to the dirt on her blouse and jeans. She captures a photo of their horse’s muscled legs among the stalks. The two of them craning their necks towards the sky. At one point, the Farmer asks to take a photo of Haley and she allows it, but dictates the angle and the pose. She decides to make use of the gold of her hair, and it becomes less a portrait than a photo of her facing the brown heart of a flower, the petals forming a jagged halo around her.
Golden hour is slipping away when Haley finds herself spent. She lowers the camera and smiles. “I think we got it.”
She’s surprised when the Farmer shakes their head. They touch Haley’s arm tenderly and for a moment she thinks they’re trembling. “Take one more.”
Haley gives them a suspicious smile. When she agrees, The Farmer walks some distance into the flowers. Stands with their back turned to her as if in thought. After a few minutes of silence, Haley teases, “Will I get to see your face?”
They laugh. “I’m camera shy.”
After a beat, the Farmer turns to her with a soft sigh. Haley doesn’t notice the hand they’ve slipped into their pocket or the nervous sweat on their brow. She just sees the Farmer, smiling, fresh-faced, hers, and the sight fills her with such a warmth that she thinks she might melt. “Are you ready now?”
The Farmer nods. Haley grins. One last photo it is.
She raises the camera. Presses the button. Through the lens, she sees the Farmer draw a pendant from their pocket at the flash.