marmalade #12 : camera
marmalade 12. camera
story: second chances ; rodeo summer . wordcount: 720. rating: g.
There was no internet, no cell reception, and when he wasn't needed out by the corrals, Mike had to face the fact that he had nothing to do. Just a snip of rodeo story.
There was no internet, no cell reception, and when he wasn't needed out by the corrals, Mike had to face the fact that he had nothing to do.
From the office doorway, he watched as his father, who was seated at Peter's large oak desk, punched numbers into the adding machine. "I'm bored," he said. "Do you need any help?"
His father shook his head. "Sorry, kiddo, this is sort of a one man job. Is that Susie girl you've been hanging out with around?"
"She was only here this morning." Mike rested his temple against the door frame, staring morosely at an old Cody rodeo flyer tacked above the desk. "And Jerry's with the class."
The adding machine continued its takketa-takketas and spit out another length of paper. "Peter's going into town one they're done. I'm sure he'd let you ride along."
Mike tried not to sigh. There was nothing to do in town either, just a Wal-Mart and a grocery, some touristy shops and a couple of bars he wasn't sure he'd want to check out, even if he was old enough. Still, it was a change. "Maybe. Sorry to bother you."
"It's okay." His father looked up, apologetic. "I just told Peter I'd balance this checkbook for him."
"No problem, you're right. I think I will go into town."
"You should. I think Peter's out with the class now, but they'll be done in a few."
"Yeah," Mike said, "thanks."
"Hey," his dad said, "buck up. Eight days 'til Darcy."
"That is such a long time."
His father threw him a smirk. "Okay, now you're bothering me."
Mike wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water then back to the living room to wait for Peter. He walked a slow circle around the room, idly touching things-the leather of the sofa, the wooden picture frame from the landscape above it and the bronze elk statue on the side table with the glazed ceramic lamp. He ran his hand over the tops of the Louis L'amour paperbacks on the bookshelf, then stopped in front of the mantle where Peter had displayed several photographs that seemed to predate the ranch. Mike had passed by them numerous times without looking, oblivious to the framed snapshot of his parents until Jerry pointed it out. That's your mom and dad, right? Mike pretended he had already seen it.
They were young, dressed in their rodeo clothes, perched on the tailgate of a pick-up with Idaho plates. Heads turned, both grinning at each other, maybe laughing, like the camera had caught them in the moment of a private joke. It made the photo harder to look at somehow, with neither looking at the camera, and Mike found himself taking in it in short, interrupted looks, like he was afraid to stare too long. It was weird to see his mother, so close to how he remembered her yet completely inaccessible.
A door opened behind him and Mike whipped around to look. Peter had came inside, wiping his boots on the mat. He saw Mike through the archway and waved.
"Hey," Mike called, "My dad said you were going into town."
"In just a second here. Want to ride along?"
Mike nodded. "Yeah, if you don't mind."
Peter closed the door behind him and came around to stand at the entrance to the living room.
"You looking at those old photographs?" he asked.
"Oh, um..." Mike tried not to feel like he'd been caught. "Yeah."
"I'm going to try to dig up a copy of that one of your parents for you and your dad," Peter said. "Don't let me forget."
"Oh, okay. Thanks."
Peter took off his hat and scratched his head, staring wistfully at the mantle display, or maybe past it. "Never thought to take photographs when we were young," he said. "Course now I wish we had more." He sighed, then sort of laughed to himself. "Oh well, right? I'll meet you out by the truck."
Peter disappeared down the hall, leaving Mike nodding to no one. Scratching the back of his neck, Mike took one last look at the picture before heading to the loft to grab his bag and sunglasses.
In town, while buying a book of survival stories, he picked up a disposable camera by the register.
I wrote this a while back and held off on finishing/posting because nothing really happens in it :P but oh well...so it goes sometimes.
story: second chances ; rodeo summer . wordcount: 720. rating: g.
There was no internet, no cell reception, and when he wasn't needed out by the corrals, Mike had to face the fact that he had nothing to do. Just a snip of rodeo story.
There was no internet, no cell reception, and when he wasn't needed out by the corrals, Mike had to face the fact that he had nothing to do.
From the office doorway, he watched as his father, who was seated at Peter's large oak desk, punched numbers into the adding machine. "I'm bored," he said. "Do you need any help?"
His father shook his head. "Sorry, kiddo, this is sort of a one man job. Is that Susie girl you've been hanging out with around?"
"She was only here this morning." Mike rested his temple against the door frame, staring morosely at an old Cody rodeo flyer tacked above the desk. "And Jerry's with the class."
The adding machine continued its takketa-takketas and spit out another length of paper. "Peter's going into town one they're done. I'm sure he'd let you ride along."
Mike tried not to sigh. There was nothing to do in town either, just a Wal-Mart and a grocery, some touristy shops and a couple of bars he wasn't sure he'd want to check out, even if he was old enough. Still, it was a change. "Maybe. Sorry to bother you."
"It's okay." His father looked up, apologetic. "I just told Peter I'd balance this checkbook for him."
"No problem, you're right. I think I will go into town."
"You should. I think Peter's out with the class now, but they'll be done in a few."
"Yeah," Mike said, "thanks."
"Hey," his dad said, "buck up. Eight days 'til Darcy."
"That is such a long time."
His father threw him a smirk. "Okay, now you're bothering me."
Mike wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water then back to the living room to wait for Peter. He walked a slow circle around the room, idly touching things-the leather of the sofa, the wooden picture frame from the landscape above it and the bronze elk statue on the side table with the glazed ceramic lamp. He ran his hand over the tops of the Louis L'amour paperbacks on the bookshelf, then stopped in front of the mantle where Peter had displayed several photographs that seemed to predate the ranch. Mike had passed by them numerous times without looking, oblivious to the framed snapshot of his parents until Jerry pointed it out. That's your mom and dad, right? Mike pretended he had already seen it.
They were young, dressed in their rodeo clothes, perched on the tailgate of a pick-up with Idaho plates. Heads turned, both grinning at each other, maybe laughing, like the camera had caught them in the moment of a private joke. It made the photo harder to look at somehow, with neither looking at the camera, and Mike found himself taking in it in short, interrupted looks, like he was afraid to stare too long. It was weird to see his mother, so close to how he remembered her yet completely inaccessible.
A door opened behind him and Mike whipped around to look. Peter had came inside, wiping his boots on the mat. He saw Mike through the archway and waved.
"Hey," Mike called, "My dad said you were going into town."
"In just a second here. Want to ride along?"
Mike nodded. "Yeah, if you don't mind."
Peter closed the door behind him and came around to stand at the entrance to the living room.
"You looking at those old photographs?" he asked.
"Oh, um..." Mike tried not to feel like he'd been caught. "Yeah."
"I'm going to try to dig up a copy of that one of your parents for you and your dad," Peter said. "Don't let me forget."
"Oh, okay. Thanks."
Peter took off his hat and scratched his head, staring wistfully at the mantle display, or maybe past it. "Never thought to take photographs when we were young," he said. "Course now I wish we had more." He sighed, then sort of laughed to himself. "Oh well, right? I'll meet you out by the truck."
Peter disappeared down the hall, leaving Mike nodding to no one. Scratching the back of his neck, Mike took one last look at the picture before heading to the loft to grab his bag and sunglasses.
In town, while buying a book of survival stories, he picked up a disposable camera by the register.
I wrote this a while back and held off on finishing/posting because nothing really happens in it :P but oh well...so it goes sometimes.