The Age of Light

by Whitney Scharer

Commit—to say yes, to agree. And if it will gain her a permanent place here at his side, in this studio, then isn’t that what she wants? So she nods, and she says it. “All right, yes. You know I love you.” He squeezes her hands harder and she feels her bones pressing against one another. “I want you to love me forever.” “Forever,” she says, nodding, and then because she doesn’t want to say anything more, she pulls her hands free and wraps her arms around him and lets him hold her and rock her back and forth. They stay like that for a while. Finally she pulls away. Man squares his shoulders and looks as if he is trying to regain control of himself. “I should get to work,” she says, and starts walking toward the darkroom. She turns to see if he is going to follow her. Instead, he picks up one of the birds’ nests on the mantel, cupping it in one hand. “Lee,” he says as she leaves the room. “Do the film.” “All right,” she says again. Of course she’s going to do the film; she’s already decided. But what is the harm in letting him think he is a part of her decision?