Storm clouds

He opened the fridge and removed a chilled beer from the top shelf, almost without awareness of what he was doing. Opening the drink, he made his way back to the table where his phone sat next to the partially eaten bowl of leftover chili. His hand hovered over the phone, then pressed play once again on the most recent voice message.

“Hey Sam,” the woman’s voice said cheerfully, but he detected a trace of apprehension in it. “It’s Melissa. I know it’s been over three years, but I wanted to talk to you and also ask a favor.”

There was a pause as Melissa took a deep breath.

“I’m getting married next weekend, and would really like you to come. It might seem a little weird being there, but you were a big part of my life. I also know you might feel less awkward if you have something to do, instead of just attending as a guest, so I was wondering if you’d be the photographer? Evan, my fiancé, wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but he agreed once I told him how much it would mean to me. I would love to see you there.”

Sam let out a sigh and took a sip of beer.

“Anyway, please call me back,” the recording continued. “Even if you aren’t interested, it would still be good to talk to you again. And please don’t think this is a last minute invite. We made a spur of the moment decision to get hitched – you know me and my crazy whims! So it will be a small wedding with only friends and family who live in the area.”

Another pause, then Melissa said in a quieter, more subdued voice, “I hope you are doing okay. Please call me back.”

As the message ended, Sam tilted his head to the right in a motion that his ex-wife would have recognized as his lost-in-thought pose. He then abruptly stood up and crossed the small apartment to his bedroom. He reached for a decorative box on the bookcase and set it down on the bed. Riffling through the box’s contents, he spotted the photograph. He lifted it out of the box and stared at it thoughtfully.

The image showed a laughing woman sitting on a grey sofa, holding a smiling infant in her arms. The woman was joyful, but she had dark circles under her eyes. He flipped the photograph over and on the back in his own neatly printed handwriting were the words “Melissa and Oliver, 4 months”.

“This was the last time I remember seeing her happy,” Sam thought. “Maybe it would be nice to see her happy again.”

He carried the photograph back with him as he returned to the table and placed it carefully beside his phone. Maybe he would do her that favor after all, he mused. He could not believe Melissa would ever be whole-heartedly happy again, but there was a possibility she could come close. She certainly had a better chance of happiness than he did. They had once attempted to face the grey storm clouds of life together. For her, those storm clouds had faded to the edge of the horizon, but for him they had instead intensified into a fierce downpour.

He shook his head in a futile attempt to erase his thoughts. It wasn’t fair to think that she had an easy life or didn’t remember what happened. He knew those memories would always haunt her, lurking in the back of her mind. She had simply found a better way of dealing with it than he had, which was surprising considering the dark depressive state she had initially entered.

He looked down at his phone and pressed the call button. It rang three times and he was about to hang up before it could go to voicemail when a woman’s voice answered.

“Hey Sam!” Melissa exclaimed, “I’m so happy you called me back!”

“Of course,” he replied.

“Well? What’s your answer?”

“I’ll do it. Be your wedding photographer,” he said. “And congratulations on your engagement.”

“Thanks, but you can save the congratulations until after the wedding ceremony,” she laughed. “You know, I really do appreciate this. And I meant what I said about wanting you to be there.”

“I know.” He wasn’t sure what else needed to be said.

“I remembered how you started getting interested in photography after… well, after everything.”

Sam didn’t respond, so she changed the subject.

“I didn’t know if you would even want to call me back. But I’m glad we don’t hate each other. Not everyone can say the same about their ex-spouse. How have you been?”

“Fine,” he said simply. “I’m still working at the same place.”

“And still disliking it?” she inquired.

“Yeah, I’d rather be doing something else, but I have no idea what.”

“Well maybe you could start a photography business. Take engagement and wedding photos for people,” she suggested. “This could be your debut.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” He glanced back down at the photograph on the table. There were a few moments of silence.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t understand how you were dealing with Oliver. I was trying to get myself in a functional state at the same time,” she spoke hesitantly.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he replied. “We approached it differently because we were different people. We always have been.”

“Yes, we were,” she agreed. “You know, I never asked you – what made you so interested in photography? The hobby seemed to come out of the blue.”

“Umm,” he mumbled, while trying to think of how to convey the multitude of feelings and memories associated with this deceivingly simple question.

He wanted to tell her that after Oliver’s death, he thought he had grieved appropriately and was capable of continuing forward. But nothing seemed to interest him anymore, and he didn’t care about anything – not his work, not their marriage, and not even himself. Time seemed to behave very strangely, trudging along like a weary tortoise. They did grieve together initially, but then they blamed themselves, and then, eventually, they began blaming each other. Although it wasn’t blame exactly; it was the discomfort of being in each other’s presence, as their proximity would always bring the tragedy to mind. So they found new hobbies to avoid one another. She would go on quiet walks and hikes in which he had no interest in participating, while he created an amateur photography studio in the walk-in closet. It would have been more practical to put camera equipment in Oliver’s room, but he had enough difficulty walking past the nursery, let alone entering it.

Sam wanted to say he had become obsessed with thinking about moments of time and wondering why he had never fully appreciated the happy moments as they were happening. They had taken many photos of Oliver, but he felt only a few came close to capturing the essence of joy intermingled with exhaustion and worry that he felt whenever holding their son. He wished he had more of those photographs, to help him recall the happier times. Now the only image permanently engraved in his mind was finding Oliver’s still form lying in the crib.

“Every parent has heard of SIDS and worries about it, but the true depth of that fear can only be understood through experience,” he thought to himself. “But if I had a few magic wishes, one would be that no one else endures that fear.”

Instead he told Melissa, “I guess I wanted to capture moments of time. And it kept me busy instead of thinking about… other things.”

“I understand what you mean,” she assured him. “And photos are a great way of sharing those moments in time with other people too.”

“Yeah, I suppose they are.” He didn’t know who else, if anyone, would be interested in them.

“Well, should I give you the time and location of the wedding then?”

“Sure, that sounds good.”

Melissa gave him the information, and then wished him goodnight.

“I’ll see you next weekend!” she said cheerily, just before hanging up.

“Looking forward to it,” he said, but it was a moment too late as she had already ended the call.

He looked around the quiet apartment, his head inclined to the right once again. Then he finally stood up and walked briskly to the bedroom closet, searching for all the equipment he would need.

***

The days leading up to the wedding consisted of unseasonably overcast and rainy weather. He knew other brides would be worried about a rain storm ruining their outdoor ceremony, but Melissa was different.

His assessment was correct when he arrived at the wedding venue and saw her for the first time in several years. She hugged him fiercely and expressed her happiness at seeing him again.

“You look amazing,” he told her.

“Why thank you!,” she laughed. “You don’t look too shabby yourself, but do you have to look so serious?”

“This is a serious job,” he replied with a half-smile.

“The first of many!” she exclaimed brightly.

“Maybe.” He hadn’t thought about the business idea since their talk. Before he could say anything else, Melissa was whisked away by a bridesmaid to finish preparations.

The wedding ceremony was small and simple, as Melissa had promised. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed capturing the special candid moments of the day, such as when the future mother-in-law wrapped Melissa in a heartfelt embrace. These were the happy moments he wanted them to recall while they looked through photo albums, as the snapshots transported them back to the past like a glossy time machine.

It did not rain during the ceremony, and Sam found a great angle of the married couple standing in a patch of sunlight, with grey clouds serving as a calm background behind them.

“I think I will start a photography business,” he thought while bringing their faces into sharp focus.

He smiled, and pressed the shutter release.