Theo looked at my camera, then at his, then at me, and made a face. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think I’ll walk around a bit before the rain sets in. I promise to be back before it gets too dangerous.”
“You know that I understand you’re an adult, right?”
“Come on, admit that you’re a little worried about me. Then I’ll admit that I like that.”
There he was again, his light banter making me think that maybe someday we could have both things—a professional friendship and a sexual one—but I couldn’t let my thoughts drift there now. Storms come and go fast. If we wanted to have a real shot at this, we’d have to focus on the task at hand.
“Just… have fun out there,” I said, turning back to my camera and grabbing the external trigger.
“You too.” Theo wandered off. He stayed within my sight the whole time, constantly glancing in my direction as if he were either trying to avoid stepping in my shot or checking if I was already worried sick, which, I admit, I was a little when the first drops came down, and a heavy rumble rolled through the sky.
Funny enough, though, the moment I heard the rumble, I reflexively pressed the shutter button. The camera clicked several times in a row, taking a series of pictures I already knew weren’t worth anything. The storm was still too far away to produce any sight worth photographing. Nonetheless, that did something important: It reminded me that if I worried too much about Theo, who was still a grown-up the last time I looked, I would never get a good shot. Even if the thunderstorm moved toward us and provided some impressive lightning, I wouldn’t react quickly enough if I weren’t fully focused.
I took a deep breath, looked through the viewfinder to confirm that the composition was still how I wanted it, closed my left eye, and peered past the camera body directly into the sky. To capture a lightning bolt, I had to activate my sixth sense. When I saw them with my eyes, it was already too late. By the time the impulse made its way from my brain to my thumb and into the camera, the lightning would already be gone. So instead, I had to wait, trust my instincts, and press the buttonbeforehandto improve my chances.
For ten minutes, I sat there, slipping into that familiar mode of waiting. For many folks, this would be boring. It was impossible to look at a phone or at anything other than the scenery, and often nothing happened. It’s a little bit like fishing, just not as relaxing, because in a storm, all my instincts scream at me to seek safety.
Then, something in the air changed. The rain grew more intense from one second to the next. Without even questioning it, I pressed and held the shutter button. For five seconds,the suspense crawled up my neck until a stunning white flash appeared before my eyes. A split second later, thunder crashed through the sky, so loudly that even the trees at the edge of the park shuddered. The tension dispersed, spreading warmth through my chest—the pleasant reward for being patient.
The rain eased up for about twenty seconds, but then it poured down even harder. I pushed the button again, just in case, and half a second later, yet another flash illuminated the sky.
“Nice,” I hissed to myself. If the first try hadn’t done it, this one was probably gonna be a winner. I quickly switched my camera to viewing mode and scrolled through the images. Two stood out: one where the lightning framed the clock tower like an opening curtain, and another where the thunderbolt struck the roof, extending behind the building and giving it an almost otherworldly glow.
It was a rare occurrence. I was already done, not even half an hour into the shoot.
I lifted my head and scanned the park for Theo. Rain pounded the grass and trees, causing the branches to hang low under the heavy weight of the soaked leaves. I looked at the clock tower, then the little bridge over the creek. Still no sign of Theo. My chest clenched. I knew very well that it was unlikely that something had happened to him while I was focused, but… I couldn’t rule it out. The storm was right above us. My eyes darted about, scanning every direction. The rain became so intense that if he stayed in it, he’d be soaked to his underwear within minutes, unless he had the perfect rain jacket, as I did. Now, however, the same jacket turned into a sauna. My breath quickened as I tried to make out any shape in the park that could resemble a person when?—
“Are you looking for someone?”
The voice behind me startled me so badly that when I whipped my head around, the muscles in my neck cramped. I had to press my thumb into the spot to keep from passing out.
Rain dripped from Theo’s jacket and hood. His hair was wet at the ends, and the camera in his hand, still wrapped in the see-through casing I had lent him, was speckled with water droplets.
“Just,uh,checking for more angles,” I said, trying to save face. “Did you get any good shots?”
“Not too many. I understand now why you said to stay in one place and wait. All the movement of nature is fine if you can keep the camera very still. I thought I could do that well enough, but…” He shook his head with a smile. “How about you?”
“I’ve gotten what I wanted, and judging from the rain, I got lucky, because we shouldn’t really stay here any longer.”
“You want to leave already?”
“Safety first. We talked about that.”
“What if I told you we could go up there and try to get a good shot of the town?” He looked past me at the clock tower, sizing it up as if trying to imagine his next shot. “Would that be safe enough?”
I turned around too, taking in the stone building that had stood its ground against heavier storms for more than a century. “If we had a key, I suppose that would be an option.”
“Well, luckily, someone has connections.” He rummaged through his jacket pockets and pulled out a keychain. “You know, I’ve been itching to go up there for a while now. Interested?”
“Guess that’s safe enough. No objections.”
Theo pulledthe wooden door to the tower shut behind him. The small windows on the left and right of the entrance let in just enough light to outline the circular staircase, yet not enough to see each step clearly. I rummaged through the inside pockets of my dripping jacket, pulled out the small flashlight I had brought for situations like this, and turned it on.
“You are really prepared for anything, aren’t you?”
“You’re probably tired of hearing it, but safety?—”
“—safety first,” he said simultaneously. “Did you also bring condoms for our safety?”
