appeared.
He still had his father’s Polaroid camera. More than any particular photograph of his father or any other object Reiko kept in the house, it was the camera itself that helped Hiroki remember who his father was. Ten years after the car accident that claimed his father’s life, Hiroki still found himself gulping back tears when he laid eyes on the Polaroid.
For Hiroki’s father, photography was nothing more than a hobby. But for Hiroki, it had become an obsession. He saw the world through his viewfinder, and he felt more at home here – in the Alpine High School darkroom – than anywhere else on the planet.
“Yes, I know a Japanese guy with a camera is cliché you prick,” muttered Hiroki as he stooped over a row of chemical baths. Billy wasn’t in the room with him – no one was – but Billy’s words kept popping back into his mind uninvited.
The darkroom wasn’t as dark as its name suggested. There was an eerie red light from a bubble light affixed above the door. The same light fixture was outside the door as well, to warn anyone who thought about entering that they better knock first. Too much light at the wrong moment and the photos would be ruined.
Hiroki was developing the photos from his good camera. His film camera. He prized it even more than his beloved Buick. When Billy’s horseplay sent the camera sliding over the cliff face the day before, the sight was almost as painful to Hiroki as the news that his father would never come home again.
The tension had remained in Hiroki’s gut until now. The camera didn’t appear damaged, but who knows how many rocks it had struck on its tumble down the cliff face before snagging on the tree branch.
This was the moment of truth. These photos would tell him everything.
The photos were… perfect.
There were more than a dozen photos of Eva standing regally at the edge of the cliff. Her raven hair was floating on the wind. Hiroki momentarily forgot his concern about his camera and focused on her contemplative expression. What was she thinking about while she stared at the ocean.
Was she thinking about Hiroki? Was she thinking about… Billy?
With a sigh, Hiroki moved on to the next chemical bath. He used tongs to remove the photos submerged in the toxic fluid and hung them up on a line to dry. It normally took as long as an hour for the photos to develop in full, but Hiroki’s teacher had shifted to fast-acting chemicals and the images were born much faster.
He could already see that these photos weren’t his. The framing was terrible and the contrast was worse. It gave Hiroki great satisfaction to notice that the photos were even upside-down .
“Anybody can take a photo, dude,” he mocked, in his best Billy impression.
It was hard to make out first, but the subject of these photos was a tree. Its sinewy trunk extended down through the frame of the photo rather than up; its dark branches mostly reached down as well. Large black leaves on the branches were sticking out in all directions, offering no clue as to which way was up and which was down.
Hiroki picked up a loupe lying on the counter and inched closer to the pictures. He leaned in close, the loupe an inch from his eye and an inch from the still-wet photo dangling from the line.
There was a detail in the background of the photo. A bird in flight.
The bird was right side up.
Then the photos were right side up too.
Hiroki moved the loupe an inch to the left and took a closer