Disposable

           This is something everyone has to do and nobody wants to. Damn it. See, my mom passed away a few days ago from “a myocardial infarction of the interior wall of the right ventrical” and my father passed away fifteen years ago, so us kids are going through her stuff and deciding who gets what. We aren't arguing, but deciding. Things like the couch we had when we were kids. We used to watch TV, movies, and play video games on it, but it's torn and used and my sister, Rebecca decides she'll take it. Again, there's no arguments. The N.E.S. (Nintendo Entertainment System) I used to play when I was a kid, so I get it. Then, though, we go in the room with the LPs, cassettes, and photo albums. My mom was the last person on Earth to own an LP players. The reader probably doesn't even know what an LP is. Oh, well. We put a 33 1/3 in and enjoy a song by The Beatles: Let it Be, Hey Jude, and others. Then, me and my two sisters go through the photo albums. We reminisce about each photo. One was of me after I was born, Mom pregnant with my sister, birthday parties, but then, we discover there's one shelf that's locked. The three of us search around for the key and we find it in the bottom of an empty salt shacker in the kitchen. Weird. So, us adult kids take a breath and open it up and about forty-five old, disposable cameras all with the thing you turn to get to the next photo fall out, but some stay in. 

           We look at them, but none of them have any more photos on them. Someone already took all the pictures. Why would Mom keep photos instead of developing them? Weird. So, it being the 21^st century, where people use memory cards, we try to figure out what to do with them (Maybe Mom used them and couldn't find anywhere to develop them?) so we ask Sierre and Sierre says: “The Disposable Camera Company in Melbourne”. 

*

           We go there: The Disposable Camera Company in Melbourne with Mom's disposable cameras and ask to get them all developed. Us kids agree to cut the cost three way so we each pay $43.32. Hope it's worth it. Maybe there'll be pictures of our kids, their grandkids. G.O.K. what's on the cameras. The young woman at the desk tells us the film will all be developed in three days. That's why I like digital better. With digital, it's five minutes, but Mom was Mom. 

           So, us kids decide who'll get what LP, who'll get what cassettes, etc. We go through the kitchen. Then, her phone rings and my sister answers it. She says we have to go back to the DCC (Disposable Camera Store now. Crap. What did Mom do?

*

           We get there and there are police in the parking lot and inside the store. What did Mom do? The policeman have a relaxed face and are standing nonchalant like security guards. Then, the cashier speaks: “How are you? Which one of you took the pictures on these cameras?” We all look at each other the way a dog does when they want to get out of trouble and there's a pregnant pause. Then, I say, “None of us. See, our mom passed away a few days ago and we're going through her stuff to find out who'll get what and we found these disposable cameras . . .”

           A policewoman steps forward and takes one of the pictures and covers the lower part of it with her palm and asks, “Do you recognize this woman?” We look at the picture and Rebecca says, “Yea. That's Mom when she was younger.”

           And the cop asks, “How much younger?” 

           We give each other the dumb dog look again. “I don't know,” my other sister says, “Why?”

           Then the woman behind the desk frowns and asks, “What year was your mother born?” and Rebecca answers, “1968”

           Then the woman behind the counter sighs, “What date?”

           I answer, “May Fifth. Why?”

           The woman behind the counter says to the cops, “It's ok. The pictures are legal. You can leave.” and both cops walk out of the store. 

           “What the hell's going on? What was Mom doing in the photos?”

           The woman behind the counter remains calm and puts the photographs in their own disposable envelopes. The kind they used to hand out photos in, smiles, and says, “Sorry about the confusion. All of the photos came out well and they're all included” and the woman behind the counter gives a fake smile and hands Rebecca the envelopes in a plastic bag. She takes them and heads to the car.    

           The ride home is quiet. Rebecca is guarding the pictures like a mother guards a child. But, we arrive home, park the car, and head inside. Then I ask, “Can we look at them please?”

           She takes one cheap paper envelope out of the plastic bag and opens it. It's a young picture of Mom in a pink bra and matching thong. As we look through the pictures, in some pictures Mom is topless and in some she's bottomless and in some she's topless and bottomless, but this was before her nipples and drooped as they all do as we get old and she was beautiful and sexy. But, why would Mom keep nude, sexy photos of herself undeveloped in a locked drawer and did Dad take them, did Mom take them of herself, or did she have a secret boyfriend or girlfriend we never knew about? Weird. 

           We talked to her neighbors but they all kept to themselves and didn't know whether or not Mom had a significant other or care. But, she was eighteen then? So, why or who would have taken pictures of her back then and where did she get those clothes back then? Weird. 

           Us three kept going through the rest of Mom's stuff, deciding who would get what. We didn't argue. But then, the question of who would get the weird photographs came up and we reverse argued meaning. I wouldn't feel comfortable keepinng these and what if my kids found them. Do you want them? No, I don't want them, so we decided to split the pictures into thirds. I had a locked safe for my guns, Rebecca has a safe place she keeps her jewelry, and my other sister know a safe place as well. After a few days, we each took our moving trucks and drove back to our homes with Mom and Dad's old stuff. None of us knew if we'd tell our spouse or our kids about the photos, but I doubt any of us would or at least I know I won't. 

           A lot of us have things we hide under out beds, in our closets, in locked containers and we hope no one will find them, but when they do, make sure you put in a piece of paper explaining what they are, the memory behind them, and what they're purpose is, otherwise, everyone will suspect the worst.