A Little Different Than You Think

I found an old roll of film, and am taking it to be developed. But I’m not sure whether I can, because the screens are black. Like, as black as night. Or maybe a nightmare. Because I’d really like to show my family and friends at the movies. They like short films. So I thought I’d be the greatest filmmaker. After all, that’s my dream, right?                                               

It’s okay to dream.                 

Right?     

I’m heading to Walgreens. It’s about a block away. Not far. Anyway, can I tell you about myself?

Well, I’ve been with my family and friends whenever they go to ancestry.com or a Heritage Museum. But I’ve always distracted myself with my camera—I don’t get why I need to know all this ancestor information when I can just go to Walgreens or Kodak to get my film fixed. They say I’m missing out. I say if I’m there with them, I’d be wasting my time. Aunt Beau and Grandma Chica say I’m just antisocial. But I’m not. Honest! I’m just working on becoming a filmmaker. They’ll see me. They’ll know.        

I used to photograph Hawaiian scenes and couples enjoying the beauty of Sandals Beach resorts. But it was just a hobby—nothing professional. I actually am a wedding photographer. But those days are long gone—I quit, as I took pictures of everything (even the bride before the wedding). One time, I showed the groom, and the infuriated bride ranted and raved about how I was breaking the magical spell that was the groom’s time to see the bride when she entered the church, arm in arm with her father walking her down the aisle.                   

Now, I’m a web designer for a company in Minnesota. It snows so much I can’t help but take out my camera and shoot the neighbors’ houses, trees and all the snow in all its beautiful whiteness. Christmas is spectacular—its snow falling peacefully while the fire crackles and pops its fiery warmth—

I know—I get sidelined, especially at a museum or at an ancestry-centered website with my family. I usually just slink away, retreating to my camera and pictures. I don’t see the point of hanging out with other people when I am—

“Whoa!”  

I almost crashed into a hatted elderly man. His pursed lips frowned at me while he gave me a stiff nod. I apologized meekly. Opening the door, I entered the store, and grabbed my roll of film out of my jean pocket. Plopping it on the counter at the Help Desk, I asked the woman whether she could explain the pitch-black pictures. They were blank.        

She took the roll in hand, and held it up. Squinting at it, she tipped it this way and that way. “Um,” she thought aloud. “I don’t see what’s so wrong about this roll of tape. I mean, it is what it is.” She handed it back to me. “You can check with Mr. Dans over there. He’ll help you.”   

I walked over to a burly man with a couple of customers. Laughing at the joke, too, I caught the eyes of the three people. “You enjoy a good joke?” Mr. Dans deduced.   

“Yes, sir!” I smiled wide, politeness streaming through my mouth.

“Okay, then. What do you have there?” He held out a hand, and I handed him the film roll. Holding it up, he tried to see what was going on while I explained the whole matter. Shrugging, he couldn’t come up with an answer. “Say, why don’t you—”    

“Sorry, but I’ll take it from here.” I grabbed it from him respectfully, and he chuckled as I walked away. Wait—it was a beautiful piece of film. Come on, Lila. What’s up? You’re on your way to becoming a filmmaker. Do something about this!

I burst into a jog. Slamming the front door, I studied my film strip. Hm. I copied the woman at the counter and Mr. Dans, tilting it this way and that way. I put a finger to my film roll. Taking it away, I saw a neon blue dot on one of the squares. Weird! I squiggled and swirled my finger around to make shapes and loops. Finally, concoct a story for every frame. Smiling, I felt weird about this new foundation.                 

It’ll be weird taking this film roll to be adapted onto the silver screen. In my rush of excitement I called all my relatives, relating the news I had this magical film roll—        

“That’d do what? Transport you to fame and fortune?” One of my relatives bellowed above the TV roaring in the background. “You’ve been making short films, none of which we are in. You should be sorry we have gone to so many places without you!”

“He’s right, you know.” Another person said. Some murmurs of agreement followed.

I didn’t want to be alone. I told my family they’d be proud of me. I went on the next museum tour with them. But my mind told me to take pictures and focus on whether these scenes would—

“Make a great family tree story!” I whispered with excitement.

My family turned to me. “You coming?” My brother’s sharp tone warned me not to turn selfish. I didn’t dare take out my camera. I just nodded glumly.                           

“Good!”

I walked quietly with them, mentally shooting the pictures. A minute later, I burst out on the scene with my camera, shooting everywhere. My brother lunged for the camera, and I dodged. But too late—my camera had already been grabbed. He raised it above his head, and I cried for him to slowly lower and return it.                                                                               

“Don’t you dare hurt that camera!” My mother scolded, rounding on my brother. “It’ll cost her a fortune—”     

“And not to mention the film she’ll be making after having printed those pictures out after a little trip to Walgreen’s!” Dad added.   

“Yes—” I slowly walked up to my glaring brother. His arms outstretched, he neatly stepped aside as I tried to grab the camera, being careful not to trip or hurt him. Then I stood still and smiled sweetly. “Please, Davian, could I have it?”               

“No, Lila. Not until you include us.”

“I will. We’ll all enjoy the movie I made—”    

“Sure you will!”          

The camera screamed with the shattering of glass and black plastic as I covered my dropped jaw and tore away, tears streaming down my face. A second of yelling from my mother happened before everything cut out, me crumpling to the floor. No… my dreams. All ruined. All pathetically died on this ugly concrete floor.

I could hardly breathe, much less speak, as I dashed from my spot to the escalators nearby. I barely made it out of there before ramming right into a passersby. “Watch out!” I hurried on past, dodging people left and right until I came to an open door. Zooming through it, I headed towards the Women’s bathroom. Locking myself in a stall, I buried myself in my hands, my knees right below my chin.                             

My camera. My $5400 baby. What has he done? Thoughts of anger whirled around my head, luring me towards revenge. Mom and Dad would denounce me as their daughter if I had succeeded in avenging Davian. I knew Mom was kind of avenging him, and maybe Dad was aiding Davian in justifying his actions. But I couldn’t wake up from this nightmare. I couldn’t end it. All I could do was sit here and cry.                     

After wiping my tears, I walked out of the stall and then out the restaurant. I headed back towards the museum, up the escalator stairs and stood there while my brother’s finger jerked my way. People were staring at us, but I pretended they weren’t there. I calmly went up to Davian and said, “Dave, please know that camera cost me $5400, and I don’t have that money to buy another one—”       

“Or to make your films. Because you’ve been ignoring us this whole time. And what do I do? Tell you to love us!”

“Yeah, I know—”       

“I just want a sister who loves her family. Please. I want to just walk around and be with you and care about your passions. Not for you to focus in one thing.” Davian broke free, storming away towards another section of this mall. I stood there, and then jogged up to him, exercising extreme patience.

“Dave.”                                

He stopped. “Yeah?” Ice ripped through his throat, and I shivered.

“I…I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I just…got too focused. Like with my pictures. I wanted to just…” I threw it all out, despite his hurt look. “Unlike everyone else, I’m a filmmaker—at least want to be. I can’t just be like everyone else. Please. Let me just be right. I’ve been exclusive, me and my camera. But now that it’s broken, I can’t go back. I can’t…” I shook my head, anger threatening to close my fists and stab at Davian’s heart. To avenge. But I wouldn’t let it. I just told him he had to pay for another camera. To give me back my dreams.               

“No, not until you pick up all the pieces—”        

“Davian, that was my camera! Please. You don’t understand how much it cost. My whole childhood savings. And now they’re shattered. Shattered on the floor like my dreams!” I dodged out of there. Yes, Anger, pull me in your direction like my partner in crime. I was blind, mad with the desire to grab his computer and shatter it all to pieces so he couldn’t fulfill his dreams of becoming a great computer genius teaching others to keep predators from hacking into personal information.     

So I swung around before I reached the escalator. I screamed he’d suffer for his wrongdoing, and I bolted home—twenty-three minutes. Having arrived shortly, I ran downstairs, grabbed his computer and all his computer hacking information and smashed every piece to the hard floor. Cracking sounds were like music to my ears. When I heard the front door open, I immediately walked upstairs, proudly showed Davian my destruction and then calmly walked away, taking my computer with me to McDonald’s to look up another camera to buy. While I was at McDonald’s, I heard sobs from Davian on my phone, covering it so as to not buoy any attention from the customers.

Sobs turned into yelling and finally my mother and father’s patient words of wisdom. They told him they’d pay for everything—no matter the cost. I told them they should make him pay for my camera. They said they needed me home for this conversation. I packed up, a severe thunderstorm of anger pulsating through my mind. When I slipped through the door, Davian’s contorted face was not of pain but of fear and respect for our parents. Dad motioned for me to sit beside him.

“Let’s discuss this situation in peace, please.”   

My brother said he’d talk and then I could have my turn. I protested. We fought, bickered and then I left in a huff. An hour later, I returned, telling my parents I was going out. They said goodbye. Davian ignored me.

I walked and walked, not caring where I was going. Then when I had reached a little shop by a railroad, I carefully looked inside but made sure no one saw me. Two men were in there. Their gruff voices and all-black appearances made them suspicious. However, I strived to catch every word they had emitted.

“Yeah, just send the devices up here. We know how to fix them.”            

“Uh-huh. 33 Treeworks Way. Thanks. See you soon!”

They sounded trusting. I narrowed my eyes.

“Wait—I heard something!”  

I bolted towards the railroad tracks.

“Hey! Stop.”

My shoulder was grabbed! I fought and then stopped, annoyed. “Davian!” I yanked away from him. He stood there, and glared at me. “You’re—”    

“Not going to believe this!”

Davian squinted, looking around and saying something about a little shop behind the railroad tracks. “What’s going on? Who works in there?”  

We raced for the bushes, hunkering below the window. Creeping up to it, we watched, and then one of the guys turned around!                                   

“Go, go!” Davian hissed, but something told me they could help Davian. I calmly walked around towards the front door. Davian’s footsteps followed from behind. The two men walked up to me, and shook my hand while saying they were just workers. I smiled. Davian, I saw, kept quiet.

We walked into the place. I said I had smashed my brother’s computer stuff to pieces. He pursed his lips while I explained I had done it because he had deserved it for having smashed my camera. “I guess what goes around comes around!” I said.        

“Yeah. But where’s this computer stuff?”     

No sooner had we gone from the shop to our basement than the men fixed the so-called stuff. Just like that! Davian couldn’t express his gratefulness. The men just laughed and then left, having insisted I pay for the fixed mess. I told Davian he had to pay for the camera first. He said he would if I paid the men. I didn’t want to pay for stuff that was easily fixed.

He slung an arm around me. “Lila, I love you. I just don’t want things to go wrong. You pay them, and I’ll pay you. Deal?”     

I gritted my teeth, jerking away. I didn’t like others paying for my stuff. I did say he should’ve, but that was in the moment. I stormed away from Davian. My future had just died right in front of me!         

I went back to that film roll. I found myself drawing little figures on it. I doodled, having no idea what I was doing. Then I lay on my back, my hair going everywhere as if blown by the wind. I closed my eyes. I had a life. I didn’t just exist behind a camera lens. But if pictures were my life, then why couldn’t my family see that? They could sit in the theatre just as much as the next family, laughing and commenting, too.

Right?         

I got up and told Davian it wasn’t fair.

“I said what I said.”

One day, Davian burst into the scene, his face filled with elation. “Those guys hired me!” He shook his head. “I can’t believe it. I got a job working with men who’d help me move towards my vision of ending cyberbullying and everything else wrong with internet hijackers.”

I crossed my arms. “Good—now where’s my camera?”                      

He turned to me. “You didn’t pay them.”     

Angry tears welled in my eyes. “You know well why I didn’t! You wouldn’t pay for my camera. I want you to do that.”

Davian jerked his bushy brunette head, and invited me to look up something with me. I nodded, and we went to his computer. “Thanks!” He threw an arm around my neck, and I nodded in agreement. After typing into the search box something he thought I’d enjoy, he said he had noticed drawings on my roll film. I said yes, there were colorful drawings on the roll! I turned to him, eyes flashing. “Do you think those pictures could become a movie? You’d like it, right? You enjoy animation.”

Maybe, I thought, I’d make a movie and then pay those men! Yeah—then my family will love me.

Davian shook his head. “Yeah—but I like watching with Mom and Dad. Why don’t you like being with us?”

I took a cross-country trip to nowhere in particular. Or should I just turn around? I saw exotic desert animals come to me, purring, squeaking and squawking. I took the film roll with me on my next trip across the country. Was I upset? No. Then I did turn around, heading back home. When I pulled into the driveway, Davian called me.     

“You weren’t right to break my stuff. You should’ve just explained the matter to me! We’re family, Lila. And family’s more important than some dream you got. You’re always ignoring us. We’re just your family—and we’d like if you’d be with us. You know what—I’m done trying to get you to understand us. You can go accomplish whatever. I’ll be here, honoring Mom and Dad!”                      

I ran inside, saying I needed to pack my things, and moved. My documentaries of drawings and paintings enamored people. But, one day, I continued with that film roll. And my family? They didn’t like it. I sighed. So how am I the awesome filmmaker? My family called me, saying they loved my paintings and pottery I created in hopes they’d enjoy my documentaries now. Everyone loved the subjects of my documentaries! Why don’t you come back to do more? They wondered. They’ll be put up in a museum, for all to see. Don’t you want us to enjoy your work?       

“Yes, if you guys don’t watch my documentaries, I won’t return to you.” I paid those men from the shop after acquiring so much money from those films.                                           

The next day, I stared into the cracked, dirty mirror in this dilapidation of a motel room. Do they even like me? I have an interest. A desire. Now a fulfilled dream! What’s wrong with that? I continued living on my own, a nomad. Taking odd jobs wherever I was, working on making good films. Then great.   

When the night premiere of my first paid film released into theatres, I looked around. My family wasn’t there, neither for any of my other films for which I had won awards. I blinked back tears.   

Guess I’ll just be a popular, rich star! I spat at them resentfully. Bye.