Waiting Is The Hardest Part
WAITING IS THE HARDEST PART
by E.C. McMullen Jr.
Myrna was old enough to remember how extraordinarily quick old film cameras were, ‘Well, at least compared to modern digital cameras.’
‘With film it was all Point and Shoot,’ she thought, ‘If I’m not mistaken, there was actually a model line of old film cameras call Point & Shoot or Point & Click.’
‘Film was only time consuming when you wanted to do something artsy.’
The Portrait Photographer looked to his laptop, then to his camera, to the meter board for his lights, and back to his laptop.
Something “whirred”. Something beeped a three second melodious interlude. None of it put the photographer at ease and Myrna’s nocturnal pets were getting fidgety.
‘It’s not in their nature to stay still in bright light for so long.’
“Okay!” he announced as if everything was finally underway. “I’ve installed all of the latest drivers.”
‘Which means things are far from underway.’
“Now,” he continued as one by one he finger shot his equipment, “I just need to disconnect the camera from the monitor, lights, laptop, and board, reboot everything individually, then shut it all down again, then reconnect, and do a full boot.”
‘Is that all? Jeez !’
Her pet, Tesla, crawled into the shadow behind her ear. Tama was slithering into Myrna’s expensively coiffed hair. Jilly was trying to coil beneath her palm. Myrna silently ticked off all of the time, scheduling, money, and trouble she went through to get today’s portrait.
At the 40 minute mark, the photographer said for the umpteenth time, “Just a few more seconds,” adding, “Could you please re-arrange your pets one more time?”
‘As if my pets are the problem.’
Gently she cupped and cradled them, moving them back into position, back in the light where they did not want to be. They were all getting crabby except for Weeters her crab, who simply drew his eyes and legs shut into his body and went to sleep.
The photographer bowed to his equipment. A stray whisper leaked out of his lungs “come on, come on, come on. goddamn it, What Now?”
Under those cold LED lights, Myrna could feel herself growing old.
Story Copyright 2017 by E.C. McMullen Jr.
The Art Inspires The Story
Art, The Pale Thing, by William Basso
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