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Photographic Memory
A/N:I wrote this story for my friend Bethany. It was suuposed to be just a little ficlet, but it kind of grew into more of a short story. Hope you like it!! If you have no idea who Wentworth Miller is, he plays Michael Scofield on "Prison Break."
He could barely remember his life before he got a car. How had he ever managed to get through it all? Whenever things got to be too much he jumped in his car and drove for hours. When his parents decided to split, he had actually driven through an entire tank of gas before he turned back to go home. When classes were too much in college he would drive the 45 minutes to the coast and find the curviest road he could with the shore coming and going from his view. It was becoming an expensive habit, but at least now he could afford to support it.
His stomach gave a rumble and he looked at the clock. It was closing in on seven and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He began to pay closer attention to the signs he was passing. Springfield was only 20 miles off and he had been there before. The restaurant he had gone to the last time had been superb. Good food, good prices, and interesting people.
The only downside was that now, people knew his face. He wasn’t sure how successful he’d be at being able to people watch without being noticed. He had always liked being able to blend into the background and observe without being observed. That was another thing he liked about driving: no one knew who he was when he was in his car. Even more than that, no one cared who he was when he was just another car to overtake.
He took the second exit labeled Springfield and headed into the city. The restaurant was far off the interstate, but he didn’t mind. It was a nice drive. It allowed him to see a lot of the city. He traveled the road for several miles before turning left onto a street named Sunshine. He always smiled turning onto it. Just the idea of a place where there was always sunshine seemed to warm him, but he was on the road only briefly before making a right onto the street containing the restaurant.
A modest sign proclaimed the place to be called “Ziggie’s Cafe.” He turned into the small parking lot and out of instinct parked in the back close to the alley. He pulled his cap on and walked up to the thin building made to look as if it were built into a corner. He stepped inside and the smallness perceived from the outside was betrayed by the almost overflowing number of patrons.
He glanced around waiting for the hostess who would also probably turn out to be his waitress. In one corner he saw a group of college students wearing black and chains sporting various piercings, hair colors, and some of the most unique haircuts he’d seen yet. In another corner a family sat talking animatedly while a toddler threw mashed potatoes at his mother. He had just begun to watch an elderly couple enjoying a single piece of pie and coffee when his waitress interrupted him.
“Will it be just you today,” she asked cheerfully.
“Uh, yeah,” he said leaning onto the balls of his feet.
“Right this way.” She flashed what he was sure was her signature grin and led him to the corner opposite of where he had entered. This was his favorite seat in any restaurant. It afforded him some privacy, but let him watch nearly everyone inconspicuously.
“My name’s Ann and I’ll be your waitress today,” she announced as she sat the menu down in front of him. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”
He glanced over the back of his menu. “Water will be fine. Thank you,” he said looking into her face that seemed to be too pretty to be locked in here. She smiled again and gave him a nod as she left to fetch the water. He looked through the menu quickly, but carefully. Soon he had decided and laid the menu down so that he could have an unobstructed view.
All too soon Ann was back carrying his water and a straw. “Have we decided on something,” she asked in her ever cheerful voice.
He’d never understand how one could deal with so many people, some of which were sure to be jerks, and still be cheerful. “Yes, thank you. I’ll have the soup of the day and whatever it is you like most.”
Her smile broadened. “Feeling adventurous today?” Wentworth gave a small shrug and wave of his wand unsure of the appropriate response. “All right. I’ll have it right out to you.” She took his menu and quickly left. Upon closer inspection he had noticed her eyes held the kind of wisdom that someone only gained through hardship and lines had developed around her eyes and mouth prematurely from it. He smiled a little to himself knowing it had pleased her to choose his meal.
He gave the restaurant another scan form his new perspective. It gave him a new view on the people he had noticed earlier. The college students, though looking much like nothing mattered to them, were in a heated discussion over a thin book from which he could not make out the title. The family was celebrating the birthday of a small child who was pink in the face from all of the excitement. His gaze once again found the elderly couple eating pie. They were down to their last bite and were passing it back and forth, neither willing to deprive the other of the satisfaction that comes only from eating the last bite of something sweet.
Ann appeared with his soup, momentarily blocking his view. She sat it down along with a basket of crackers and said his dinner would be out soon. When he looked back to where the elderly couple should have been he saw they had gone, but left the last bite. He absentmindedly stirred his soup to cool it and began to wonder about his life. Would he be able to find a love like they had? At this point in his life he had started to wonder if he would find love at all, let alone a great one like theirs. Both parties willing to give up a good thing just so the other could have it. Almost like a “Gift of the Magi” love, but better. He longed for a love such as that.
He began to eat his soup his mind still dully thinking on love. He was halfway through the bowl when Ann reappeared wearing a new smile and Wentworth knew it was a genuine smile. “All right,” she said laying the plate down in front of him. “This is our center cut pork fillet. It’s wrapped in bacon to add flavor and keep the juices in.”
“It looks fantastic,” he smiled at her. Her cheeks flushed slightly with pride and she gave him another nod before rushing back to help her other customers.
The dish really did look delectable. It was definitely one of the more sophisticated dishes on the menu. The pork was accompanied by several asparagus spears topped with hollandaise sauce and a baked potato with sour cream. He unrolled his napkin containing his silverware and tried the asparagus. It was tender, but not soggy and the hollandaise sauce really added to the flavor. He cut into the fillet and immediately noticed the effect the bacon had on the meat, it was perfect. He continued to sample both the entrée and side dish unable to decide which he liked more. Ann stopped at his table carrying a couple pots of coffee.
“How’d I do?” Her hip cocked so as to rest her elbow.
“I feel like I’m in a five-star restaurant, only the service is better.” He unknowingly gave her a wink and her cheeks flushed once more. “You did an amazing job. Thank you again.”
“It was my pleasure hun. Can I get you anything else?”
“Uh, some coffee would be nice,” he said offering his cup up.
“Let me get you something fresh. Regular or decaf?”
“Regular’s fine. Thank you.” She walked to the back shaking her head a little.
Ann returned, filled his coffee cup, and took his plate. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
Wentworth thanked her and reached for a creamer and two sugars. He took the first sip and let the hot liquid warm him in the only way coffee seemed to do. He looked over to where the elderly couple had been. The table had long since been cleared and now what appeared to be newlyweds had taken their place. The family was leaving now. The mother carrying the messy toddler and trying to usher the other children in the direction of the door while also carrying two to-go boxes. The father was helping the grandmother to exit the booth and had a third to-go box.
Sudden movement to his right caught his attention. A young woman sat in front of him. He looked at her expectantly. “I’m Bethany,” she said with a soft British accent and extended her hand.
“I’m Michael,” he said casually letting go of her hand. Where had she come from? He hadn’t seen her sitting anywhere. Surely she hadn’t just walked in.
“If you want to be.” Her eyes twinkled with knowing the truth.
He gave a small smile and dropped his head momentarily. “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said looking back to her.
“No, I suppose not. I was just curious over a couple things if you don’t mind.”
“Likewise,” he said with a raised eyebrow and taking a sip of his coffee.
“Well, by all means. You go first.” She leaned back in her chair, her hair just falling over the top. Something about her relaxed him.
“What are you doing so far from home?” She raised an eyebrow that said she wanted explanation. “Your accent is English. Kind of gives you away.”
“I’m visiting a friend of mine; she lives in the next town over.” She saw his eyes dart behind her. “She’s not with me now. The same question applies to you, Michael; what are you doing in this part of the country?”
He grinned sheepishly at her use of his character’s name. “I’m driving across the country. I stopped here to eat.” He watched her and she seemed to accept his answer. “What’s your passion in life,” he asked leaning over his coffee to her. The question seemed to be out of his mouth before his brain had processed it. It was almost as if his brain had shut off and he was running off of pure instinct.
“Well,” she said leaning forward mimicking his position, “I’m glad you asked. That’s actually the reason I came over here.”
“Are you saying that I’m your passion in life,” he asked smugly.
“No,” she nearly laughed. “My passion,” she said reaching behind her, “is photography. I was actually wondering if you might, possibly let me photograph you.”
His brain told her no, but a voice he recognized as his own said, “Sure. What did you have in mind?”
Bethany to seemed surprise at his willingness, but her voice didn’t show it. “I actually had a couple places in mind depending on how keen you were on it.”
His brain screamed at him that this was a bad idea, but once again he heard himself answer. “Well, let’s do them all.”
“All right then,” Bethany said pleased and put her camera back into her bag.
“Although, I have one condition,” he said looking into his wallet. He pulled out money to cover his meal, “I’m driving.”
“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here,” Wentworth asked her cautiously.
“Not a clue, but I’ve been dying to take pictures here.” She put her camera bag over her shoulder and began to walk away. She had a vision in her mind and she needed just the right place to make it a reality. Wentworth followed her with little hesitation.
“How long have you been here? You seem to know your way around.” The words felt stupid and awkward as they hung in the air, but he needed to hear her speak.
“Uh…about a week,” she finally replied absorbed in her surroundings. She turned her head quickly behind them and Wentworth watched every movement. He smiled lightly as he noticed that her hair seemed to delay and covered her face as she turned back around. He was still grinning when she looked at him and before he could react she had snapped a picture of him.
“Hey! That’s no fair!”
“No, it’s cute,” she said smartly. “Now stand over there and no squinting.”
“No squinting? What makes you think I’ll squint,” he asked walking over to where she had pointed. He was standing on empty tracks with freight cars on other tracks to his sides.
“Mostly because I’m making you face the sun and because most pictures I’ve seen of you, you’re squinting.”
He feigned looking scandalized and just as he was to reply, she snapped another photo. “Oh, I’m sure that was a great photo,” he said sarcastically. She grinned devilishly and he couldn’t help but to instantly forgive her. He wished he knew what power it was she had over him. “And if I can’t squint, how am I supposed to pull off my signature sexy look?”
“We’re not going for ‘signature sexy’ here, we’re going for real and if it happens to be sexy, than so be it.” Her camera clicked again as he did his best to look put out. “You know, the more you do that, the more I’m going to photograph it,” she said not bothering to lower the lens.
“Well, if I’m not posing, then what would you like me to do?”
“Talk to me.” She took another picture.
For the first time Wentworth wasn’t sure what to say nor did his mouth simply answer for him. “Talk to you; about what,” he finally asked feeling like he should know the answer.
“I don’t care,” Bethany answered quickly, but without making Wentworth feel stupid. “Talk to me about the weather, your trip, your work, your girlfriend, your family, whatever.”
He laughed lightly and he heard the shutter snap. “Very clever; I don’t have a girlfriend, but I think you knew that.” He saw the corners of her mouth upturn from behind the camera.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she responded, the happiness in her voice betraying her words. His smile widened a little and it made the edges of his eyes crinkle with another click from the camera.
“I’m sure you don’t.” He shook his head a little. He was beginning to lose track of all the times she took a picture. “Seriously, I don’t know what to talk about.”
She finally pulled the camera away from her face and Wentworth found himself feeling somewhat relieved to see her brown eyes again. “Just pick something your passionate about, something you could talk all day about. Maybe a book you read or, I’m sure, you could tell me about the show for longer than I’d want to hear about it,” she smiled knowing she could listen to him until he was hoarse and then some, no matter what he was talking about.
“I did read a good book recently. Have you ever read Beloved by Toni Morrison?”
“Nope,” Bethany answered the camera covering her face again.
“You should really look into it. It’s about this former slave, Sethe, and her daughter, Denver and a sequence of events that follow after another former slave, Paul D., comes to stay with them.”
Bethany listened to him tell her about the book with mild interest as she went through a roll of film and a camera change. He began to tell her about working on the show and she went through a second camera change and two more rolls of film. Finally the light she had been using vanished beyond the horizon.
“All right Mr. I-can’t-think-of-anything-to-talk-about,” she said sarcastically interrupting him. “I’m out of light. So I can either send you on your merry little way or you can come with me to my make-shift studio.”
Once more his brain told him that he needed to leave. It even gave him logic this time. It was after nine and he needed to get to LA sometime soon. And once more his mouth ignored his brain. “Do you have all the shots you wanted?”
“I’ve got most of them, but honestly, to get any of them is a dream come true.”
“Well then, it seems my work isn’t finished. I’d hate to leave a dream unfulfilled, especially when I can make it a reality by spending a bit of time with a beautiful girl.” He walked past her and to his car without another audible word, but his brain was screaming again. Was he hitting on her? Surely he hadn’t, but as the words played back, he had definitely hit on her. Damn it, now she was going to think he wanted more than to just spend time with her. He turned around to look at her and she was crouched from putting all of her cameras away, but she wasn’t working. “Listen,” he began, but she interrupted.
“Did you really mean that?” She looked at him earnestly, almost as if her heart were about to be crushed.
“Mean what?” He didn’t want to be misunderstood and surely she had misunderstood him if she was this worried about it.
“That you think I’m beautiful?”
“Of course I meant it. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.” His brain was silent as he answered and he was thankful for it. Bethany nodded slowly and finished packing her things. She slung the bag over her shoulder and got into the car without another word. Wentworth turned the car on and pulled back to the main street.
“Listen, I’m—”
“Do you remember the way back to Ziggie’s?”
He had planned on apologizing for causing whatever ill feelings she was having, but she wouldn’t let him. “Yeah, we can take the same way we came, right?” She nodded and he stayed silent. He was dying to know what was going on in her head, but, he reminded himself, he had known her for only a couple hours and it wasn’t his place to ask.
The ride back to the restaurant was punctuated with noise only when the car went over a bump or fall in and out of a pothole. Wentworth tried his best to steal glances at Bethany without her knowing. It was both easier and more difficult than a normal situation. Easier, in that she continually gazed out her window and paid him no mind; harder, in that he only vaguely remembered where he was going and had to pay closer attention to where he was going. Twice he had nearly missed his turn. Finally they reached the restaurant and she pointed out her car. This was the end he thought. She was going to get out of his car and he was never going to see her again. He had to do something, say something, say anything. She had her seatbelt off, the door open, and was half-way out the door before his mouth worked.
“Bethany,” he said hoarsely. She stopped at the sound of her name. It sounded so good when he said it, but he didn’t say anything else. He didn’t seem capable.
“Follow me. It’ll be easier than giving you directions.” Her keys came out of her pocket a she stood and shut the door.
Her words jolted the seemingly rusty gears of his brain into turning again. She wasn’t leaving him, not right now anyway. He watched as she got into the driver seat and backed her car up. They drove to the limits of the city and got onto the highway. He followed her for twenty minutes, before they exited and drove into a neighborhood. A few more turns and he found himself in front of a modern looking home with a light on in the far left window. Bethany got out of her car and waited for Wentworth to join her.
“This is my friend’s house.” She explained as he reached her. “She’s let me take over her basement for my photography. You can come in and wait in her living room while I make sure she doesn’t mind if I’m working this late.” He nodded no longer sure of his role. She walked in and waved him onto the couch.
“Dani, where are you,” she called. Danny, Wentworth thought. Was she staying with a guy?
“Office,” a female voice called from down the hallway. He let out an unknown breath as Bethany walked away. He heard the two conversing in happy tones and wished he knew what she was talking about. He heard her light laugh and he felt a pang of regret that she had lost that at the railroads and it was his fault. A couple minutes later Bethany reappeared.
“She doesn’t mind, but we just have to be quiet as her brothers are visiting and already asleep.” Wentworth nodded and stood up to follow her downstairs.
“Hey!” The female voice called again. Bethany turned towards the hallway and Wentworth saw a head pop out of a doorway towards the end. “No sex in my kitchen,” she said in all seriousness.
Bethany smiled for the first time since she had put her camera away at the rail yard. “Yeah, thanks Dani. I was really wondering about that.”
“Not a problem. I’m here to serve.” The head disappeared and Bethany turned around heading back down the stairs.
“Uh,” Wentworth began hesitant to continue with his thought. “Is there some reason she felt the need to warn you about having sex in the kitchen?”
Bethany smiled again. “Mostly to see if you’d ask about it. That and, apparently, only she’s allowed to do that.” She laughed again and all of his doubts about everything just melted way.
“Ok,” she said at the bottom of the stairs and walking over to an empty tripod sitting in front of a stool and white sheet. “Sit there,” she motioned to the stool. “Now I want you to think of a time in your life when you were the most comfortable. Think of it and then I want you to imitate it. If you were lying out at the beach, roll up your sleeves or take off your shoes and lay on the floor. If you were sitting at home watching “The Simpsons” in your boxers, then strip down to your boxers and recline on that sofa. I want you to be the most relaxed you’ve ever been.”
He thought about the most relaxed he’d been in the past few years. He thought about filming, he loved it but it wasn’t quite relaxing. What about a day off? Those were more relaxing than days on the set, but he often used them to practice lines. It would definitely have to be sometime in the past week when he’d been driving. No worries, nothing but him and his car. Completely absorbed in his thoughts he was unaware that Bethany had already begun to take pictures. Suddenly he realized that he had never felt more comfortable or relaxed then right here and right now.
“This is it,” he said looking up at her.
“What is,” she asked confused holding her camera at her side.
“This is the most comfortable I’ve ever felt, being here with you.”
In the envelope he had found the pictures she had taken at the old rail yard. He smiled; glad to have a reminder of her. His grin grew when he noticed she had hand written comments on the back of each one. The last one, a picture of him scanning the horizon, read, Look anywhere you think of me and I’ll give you a photographic memory. What did that mean? How was she going to improve his memory? Any theory he came up with seemed to violate some law of reality.
He stood up and decided to shower. If he was going to be back on the road today he would need something to clear his mind a little bit. He walked into the bathroom and taped to the mirror was a picture she had taken of him brushing his teeth. On the back she had written the circumstance at which time this picture was taken. He turned around and walked back to the bedroom. Looking more closely he saw a picture taped to the door. Walking over he saw it to be one he had taken of them, sharing their first kiss against the door. On the back she had only written three words: Best kiss. Ever. He walked through the house and found pictures taped everywhere she had taken one. Even pictures where he had stolen the camera from her and taken some. As he found each one, he read the back and took time to think about the effort she had put into this.
She had literally given him a photograph for almost every memory they had shared. He could not think of one thing that was more suited to her and he loved her for it. So much so, that he felt that he didn’t need to drive to LA to clear his head any longer. In fact, what he needed most, was to get on a plane and fly to her. LA could wait.
