Chapter 12: Joe

When Joe finally made it back to the office that afternoon, he didn't bother with going to see his editor. He wasn't in the mood to talk with anyone and he was sure when Mike found out about him storming out of the meeting that he would fire him, or at least have him covering the farm report for the next month.

Joe headed straight to the darkroom. When he walked in, he expected to find one of the other photographers inside working, but much to his relief, the room was empty. He walked over to the counter, tossing his things onto it, and then went about setting up his developing supplies. When he was sure he had all his equipment ready, he switched off the lights, and in complete darkness transferred the film from the camera to the film tank. Once it was safely in the developing tank, he flipped the light on.

He grabbed a bottle of developer and poured it in the tank, then looked to his timer on the wall. He reached over, spinning the large minute hand to ten minutes, and clicked the on button. Joe watched as the second hand on the timer began to tick. As the film sat in the tank and the minutes ticked off, he would occasionally turn the agitator on the top of the tank, ensuring the fluid inside covered every inch of the film. He hopped up on the counter next to the film and reached up, running both his hands through his hair.

Joe usually enjoyed his time in the darkroom, as it was therapeutic, but that day, not much had helped him other than the memory of Elizabeth. He shook his head as he didn't understand how he had let so much bother him that day. He reached over, turning the agitator on the tank, and Elizabeth's memory rushed back to his thoughts.

Joe had been crazy about her from the day he first saw her, but somehow, he had let her slip away to go to the damn war. He left to fight like so many of his friends, and he thought by volunteering that he might right some wrong in the world and prove himself. But what he found in the war was nothing but death and pain. As he thought of the war and then of Elizabeth, the memory of the day he left her filled his mind. The pain in her eyes had been burned into his memory, and Joe couldn't shake the thought. She had pleaded with him to stay, but there wasn't much that could have stopped him.

It was at that moment that the buzzer on the timer went off. Joe looked over to it flipping the off switch and then whispered to himself, "You're out of time, Joe."

He paused for a moment longer sighing loudly and then hopped down off the counter. Joe picked up the film canister and walked it over to the sink where he emptied out the developing fluid. He took the next hour to work the negatives through the developing process. When he finally had them dry and ready, he moved over to his enlarger to begin printing his shots for his editor. He meticulously worked through his negatives, and as he finished printing them, he wrote up his notes, being extra-careful to put in all the detail he knew Mike liked.

As he scanned the photos, he came to the last picture he had taken of the governor. He grabbed his note pad one more time and vigorously scratched out a note. As he finished scribbling it down, he heard the door open as one of the other photographers entered. Joe shut the light off in his work area and gathered up his pictures, sliding them into a negatives folder.

As he emerged from the darkroom, he looked to the windows near the far wall and saw Mike standing there, looking to the evening sky. Joe looked down to the folder he carried and back to Mike. He was betting that since Mike hadn't come and fired him that he hadn't heard about the incident that morning. He covered the distance across the room and walked up next to him. Mike glanced over to Joe.

"Joe"

He looked down to the folder he carried.

"That mine?" he asked

Joe shifted his stance and held the folder out.

"I think you'll find what you need in there."

Mike took the folder, put it under his arm and returned to looking out the window to the city below. Mike sighed heavily and cleared his throat. Joe sensed something was bothering him, but he didn't say anything.

Mike looked over to Joe and smirked. "You know, Joe, that's what I like about you." Mike cleared his throat again. "You know when to stay quiet, not like the rest of the guys who have to talk for the sake of talking."

Joe grinned, and as he was about to leave to go back to his desk, Mike started to talk again.

"Do you ever take time and look at the city? I see those damn cars driving down the roads each day-where the hell are they going? I know it's not to buy a paper."

Joe took a deep breath and looked to his own reflection in the window.

"If you would have asked me that yesterday the answer might have been different, but today-" Joe chuckled. "Hell, I barely know where I'm going anymore unless you send me there, but today, well-I'm having one of those days where nothing seems to surprise me."

Mike mustered half a smile and then turned his attention to the folder under his arm. As he opened it up and thumbed through the numerous shots, he would occasionally look up to Joe and then back to the folder again.

"These look good."

He pulled a few of the pictures out and glanced at the notes. Joe watched Mike's expression to see if he approved, and as he flipped to the last photo, he read Joe's scribble. He pulled it out, examined it more closely and looked to him over the top of his glasses.

"Another politician making himself feel better about sending boys to war; another damn monument to help them make peace with themselves."

Mike slid the pictures back in the folder and tapped Joe on the shoulder.

"If we could only print what we really thought, we might actually sell some papers, wouldn't we?"

He patted Joe's shoulder one more time and headed back toward his office. Joe watched Mike as he left and then turned and looked back to the skyline.